While the initial idea may have come from current events, this story is in all parts based upon my own imagination.  It is about a naďve young woman and a hard, uncaring, amoral businessman.  It is a dark tale of one man doing whatever he wishes to this girl and of him trying to bend her to his will.  This story might be considered evil, but often, so is life.

 

Recruiting Victoria

 

Day Zero: The Prize Is Taken

 

She walked down the street of the Caribbean party town, arm in arm with her two best friends from school.  Her walk was a thing of beauty, a long gliding step that caused the thin knit cotton dress to sway back and forth with each movement of her hips.  Her high heels slowed her walk a little as they forced her hips back, while her chest was thrust forward in order to maintain her balance.  She was a striking young woman and she acted like she owned the world.

 

Their two week vacation in Cancun had been a complete success, but now they were all exhausted and ready to go back home.  The plan for tonight was to hit a couple of small places, and then finish up at Charlie’s before they went back to their hotel early next morning in preparation for departure.

 

Victoria was nineteen and a freshman at the University of Florida, although she actually came from a small place in southern Texas.  The town she came from didn’t offer a lot, so her parents had sent her to a small finishing school for her last couple of years before she entered college.  After all, they could afford it.  In addition to a better education, they also wanted to keep her away from the trashy local kids her age, especially if they weren’t---suitable.  They just didn’t want her associating with them, and let her know this in many subtle ways.

 

She had turned out to be a nice person, kind and liked by everyone.  She’d dated some at her private Catholic school, but had never found the right guy.  So while Vic was still the center of attention from the boys, most of them also knew that she was unavailable to them

 

The three girls walked into the first place and immediately drew the attention of the men there.  The girls all were young, very good looking and obviously having a great time.  None of them paid attention to the anonymous black man that slipped in about five minutes later, sitting down and ordering a cheap local beer.

 

By this time, Vic and her friends had their rum and cokes well in hand.  The girls were vivacious and alive, bringing smiles to the faces of almost all that looked upon them in that tatty little place.  While two of the three were quite attractive brunettes, the third was a stunning, long haired blonde.  She had a superb body covered by a sexy black cocktail dress.  Of the three, every man in that place that night knew she was the most desirable of all.

 

Vicki moved her head to talk to one of her friends and her thick blonde hair swirled around, framing her face.  Her hair was one of her favorite features and she had let it grow almost to the small of her back.  She was tall at a little over 5’ 9” in height and was in excellent shape, weighing a little over 125 pounds.  She was athletic and had long, shapely legs that allowed her to run for hours when playing sports.  They were also one of the main reasons that she looked so good in bikinis and cut-offs.

 

Her ankles were shapely and slender, tapering off to rather small feet.  Her calves were softly muscular and yet quite shapely, and led up to a gorgeous set of thighs.  These in turn ended in the other reason that she looked so good in skimpy clothing.  She had extremely firm and well rounded buttocks, and they filled every man that night with lust as soon as she had walked in.  Most of the men there silently agreed that she probably had the best ass they had ever seen on a white woman.  Her shoulders were rather broad for a young woman, but helped to place her large breasts in perfect perspective.

 

This was their last night at the resort and all three friends had decided to dress up a little.  Victoria was naturally shy and generally didn’t try to call attention to herself, but tonight was different.  As usual, Vic’s natural beauty attracted the eyes of the men first, and the way she was dressed ensured that they never drifted over to her friends.

 

She was wearing a black spaghetti strap dress that came down to about three inches above her knees, and a one inch wide black velvet choker around her neck.  The dress was tight around her narrow waist and billowed freely below.  It plunged both in front and in back, and every man watching there agreed that the cleavage revealed by her dress ensured that she was not only NOT wearing a bra, but in fact, sure as hell didn’t need one either.

 

Her toe nails were painted bright red and she was wearing black, strappy sandals with 3 ˝ inch stiletto heels.  The sandals were kept on her feet by long leather laces that wound criss-crossing half way up around her tanned calves and then were tied in back.  She had been saving for six months to buy this dress and heels, and she wasn’t going to let them go to waste on her last night on the island.  A small fashionable black clutch containing her identification, money and a few other items completed her ensemble.

 

She liked the way her hair looked tonight---and especially her eyes.  After dressing, she’d crossed the room to the full-length mirror on the closed door of her hotel room and struck a pose.  Shifting her weight, she turned.  The dress was the color of ink and seemed transparent.  She liked the warm tone of her skin underneath.  The way her breasts seemed to bob with her slightest move.  It had been exactly the right choice.  She wore little jewelry except for some long dangling earrings, but while putting on her makeup tonight, Vicki had decided to emphasize her beautiful green eyes.  She thought her eyes were her best feature, but most men would strongly agree that she was wrong.  She was a little bit shy and generally conservative in her dress and in behavior.  She thought that bizarre manifestations like body piercings and tattoos were in the most vulgar taste; something she would never consider for herself.  But tonight she was going to show her friends that she too could get into a festive mood on the last day of their vacation.

 

Because of her flawless complexion, she needed little else to be ready.  Her lips were always a luscious red without having to use much lipstick (which she generally hated to use anyway because of the taste) and somehow always looked moist.  Her naturally light olive skin tone in conjunction with her green eyes and long, thick, slightly curly blonde hair ensured that all eyes would be on her.

 

When first a teenager, Vicki had wished she had been a little better endowed by nature, but at around fifteen she had begun to blossom into something remarkable.  Her body still remained slender, taking after her father’s side of the family, while her breasts had begun to grow, taking after her mother.  By the time she was seventeen, Vic was what Hollywood star makers dreamed of—she looked five years older than she was and had that indescribable ‘something’ that made her stand out from all others.  Her breasts were not the huge, ungainly things that many women now had artificially created for themselves.  But at 35D, hers were larger than average, and they were also naturally high and firm with small tan aureoles and pink nipples jutting into the air. 

 

She truly was beautiful girl with green eyes, a nice smile, and a naturally sunny disposition that was immediately obvious to all that might see her.  While quite smart, she hadn’t traveled a lot and was still oddly naďve about the world in general and specifically about how her looks affected every man around her.   Victoria wasn’t a virgin, but had only been with one boy one time and that was well over a year ago.  It wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience and she wasn’t in any rush to get involved with any of the immature youths with which her small school had seemed to be filled.  She sometimes had regrets about this, because she felt that she had perhaps been cheated, that she somehow had more to offer to a man than she had so far been able to give.  But, she often thought, that was life.  She consoled herself with the knowledge that college would be different.

 

The girls all stayed for over an hour at the first dive and then walked out in search of the next place to conquer.  Their shadower followed them out and remained around 100 yards behind them, maintaining his distance.  When the lighting was right, every now and then he would get closer and take either a photo or bring out a small video camera and take a short video of the girls.  Even when not close to them, he could hear them ahead of him as they walked under the uneven lighting, the click-clacking of their high heels always pin-pointing their location for him.

 

They came to the next place and walked in, repeating the scene pretty much as before.  Later, when questioned by the police, everyone there would remember the beautiful young American girl.  Another hour had gone by and the three friends were now ready for the main event; a night at Charlie’s.  Charlie’s was the place that all of them seemed to enjoy the most, and while in Cancun, they all had ended many of their evenings there fending off various men in the bar.

 

The girls entered Charlie’s and, as usual were seated at one of the best table’s still remaining open near the dance floor.  Vicki loved to dance and it was the one time she could lose all of her inhibitions.  Frankly, to the men watching, it didn’t matter how good or bad a dancer she was, she was just sexy as hell to watch.

 

As usual, she was asked to dance by a multitude of men, but generally turned down most offers.  Even so, she still danced most of the night and was having a great time.  Around two in the morning, both of her friends were ready to go back to their hotel, but Vicki was having the time of her life.  She told her friends to go on back and that she would catch up with them in the morning.  They were a little reluctant to leave her there alone, but with a smile Vicki waved at the crowd around them and asked, “What could happen here?”  “Go back and get some sleep,” she mouthed to her friends and shooed them away with her hands.

 

Both girls got up and gave Victoria quick kisses on her cheek before reluctantly leaving her alone at the table by the dance floor.  Looking back, she realized that this was the greatest mistake that she had ever made, one that would change her life forever.  Later, she would sometimes wistfully wish she had just been a little less eager for more fun that night.  The worst part was that she knew she had no one to blame but herself.

 

Her shadower watched the two girls get up and leave Victoria sitting alone at the table and he knew that this was the moment for which he had been waiting.  He looked at the picture of Vicki in his hand, just as he had looked at it a hundred times before.  It had been taken at a beach two weeks ago and it showed Vic in a rather subdued and conservative bikini.  This was a gorgeous young woman and he felt anticipation at what was to come; he could hardly wait to get the operation under way.

 

The Collector’s team consisted of five men, he being one of four on the island.  Their tactics were flexible and they always waited for the best moment to make their move.  He had been involved in this kind of thing twice before and knew how to make it happen smoothly.

 

He walked up to the bartender and pulled him aside.  He showed him a small vial of colorless liquid and told the man that he would pay him $50 right now if he would put this in that blonde’s drink, pointing out Victoria.  Once she started acting a little woozy, he would pay him another $450 if he grabbed anyone, and he meant anyone in the bar, and had them help him take her out to a waiting yellow taxi that would be driven by a woman.  She would pay him the remainder that he was owed.  He was to tell the driver of the taxi to take Victoria back to her hotel, the Renaissance.  The bartender wouldn’t get in trouble because he would have a witness as to what he had done.

 

It was a lot of money to the bartender and he was tempted.  He looked over at Victoria and thought to himself, “What the hell.  She’s a big girl and if she gets fucked a little tonight, no skin off my back”.  With that, he nodded and took the $50.

 

He put the vial in his pocket and went back behind the bar.  He watched the waitresses, and when Vic ordered her last rum and coke, he was able to slip the drug into her drink without the barmaid noticing.  From there, the plan worked perfectly.  Shortly after, a wobbly and obviously drunk Victoria was helped outside by the bartender and a patron of the bar that had volunteered to help.  She taken to a conveniently waiting yellow taxi driven by a hard looking older woman, and in one of those coincidences for which the men could only pray, the stranger that helped the bartender had danced with Vicki earlier and knew where she was staying.  Thus, in front of unsuspecting witnesses, this man took it upon himself to give the driver her hotel destination.  No one saw the taxi driver slip the bartender a wad of cash just before she left.

 

The woman driving the cab had helped the ‘collectors’ before.  She’d had a hard life growing up and could care less what happened to any of these young, spoiled white bitches that she saw partying on the beaches every night.  There was no danger to her, since the cab was stolen and she wasn’t a taxi driver anyway.  In less than two hours, the taxi would be clean of all prints and returned to the driveway of the actual driver.

 

As planned, she drove the taxi less than half a mile before pulling into a small, dark secluded parking lot.  There, the four members of the team quickly transferred an unconscious Vicki into a small van.  The taxi driver was paid and both vehicles left the lot, the van heading toward a small secluded natural cove that was about ten miles away.

 

Once there, Vic was carried to a small runabout and dumped in it.  The boat was pushed away from the beach and it then headed out for a larger boat waiting offshore.  This new boat was over sixty feet long and was set up for long periods at sea.  It had a large canopy covering a 10 x 20 foot deck area in the back, and the side rails all had canvas liners that blocked most of the view of the back deck. 

 

The small boat carrying Vicki finally hooked up with the yacht and was tied off at the back.  With a lot of work, a limp Victoria was transferred onboard by the four men and finally down below into the main cabin.  This was where she would spend the next three or four weeks, depending upon her mental toughness and how quick she a study she was.

 

The four men carried Vicki down the stairs and through a galley where they met a fifth man in the cabin; he told them to strip her right where they were holding her.  Most of the men in his crew called him Bossman.  She was completely unconscious at this point and so had to be held up at all times.  First, her dress was unzipped, and allowed to drop into a puddle around her ankles.  She wore no bra and her black French cut panties were slipped over her hips and pulled down to her ankles.  One of the men reached down and picked up one sandaled foot at a time to remove the dress and panties.

 

The man in charge told them to remove the choker and earrings, but to leave her heels on.  Because he well knew the ‘Principle’ that had just purchased Victoria, he was also aware that she was going to have to get used to wearing high heels all the time from now on.

 

She was taken to the cabin’s queen size bed and laid upon it.  To avoid marking her delicious body, instead of metal handcuffs the men attached wide soft leather cuffs to her ankles and wrists.  Her wrist cuffs were locked together and tied to the head of the bed.  One man grabbed each of her ankles and her unresisting body was pulled down the bed as far as possible before they spread her legs and tied her ankle cuffs to the posts at the bottom of the bed.  The leader then reached into a cupboard and pulled out a large ball gag which he proceeded to insert into Vick’s mouth and tie around her head. 

 

Finally, he went into the cupboard one last time and pulled out a piece of hard black rubber that was about four inches long and about 1˝ inches in diameter, generally resembling a stubby dildo.  After lubricating it, he inserted it into her unresisting asshole.  There was a narrow ring around the end of the plug and her anal sphincter greedily closed itself around the smaller diameter of the plug end.  At this point, even though she was unconscious, she still gave a soft moan as her anal muscles locked onto the hard, black rubber now firmly seated inside her body.  There’s no time like the present to start working with her, he thought to himself.  All she was wearing now were her high heels, ankle and wrist cuffs, butt plug and a gag; that’s just about right, he thought to himself.

 

He looked impassively at the helpless girl; her profusion of dark blonde pubic hair proved that she’d probably never had a bikini wax, which fit in with what he’d learned about her.  The tan lines on her chest and bosom indicated that she rarely if ever went topless while sunbathing and it also appeared that she wore a fairly large bikini bottom.  Her feet were arched in the position dictated by the high heels she still wore and her calves were exquisitely shaped by the tensed muscles beneath the leather lacings.  If you like leather, Bossman thought to himself, you’re on the right boat.

 

She was gorgeous, but this caused him no real sympathy for her.  He’d collected too many fabulous looking women in the past to let this one stir his blood.  He and his current crew had been doing this for years.  He worked the Caribbean and east coast of Central and South America and had personally been offering unwilling female slaves that he’d kidnapped and trained to various individuals and organizations for over twenty years.  He would move his boat up and down the long coastlines, never hitting the same country twice in a row.  The local police either never talked to each other across national borders or the politicians hushed everything up to keep tourism going.

 

There was a remarkably strong and steady demand for the kind of high quality product that he handled.  He’d never kept track of the number, cutting notches in his gun as it were.  But the total must number in the hundreds by now and without meaning to, his mind went backwards in time, going over various women that he had ‘collected’ in the past.

 

It had become a true meat market out there over the last ten years; young women had become desperate, taking far more risks than necessary to meet mister right.  And it was this market of needs that he trolled so successfully.  It was interesting, he thought, how his pursuits intersected with the lives of these women; it was fated that they’d eventually belong to him.  It had been written in the stars for as long as they’d been alive that one day he would own their bodies and their souls.  He knew that he performed a valuable service; skimming off the very best of the best and keeping these women isolated from the lower class males and those of lesser ability, providing them instead to men of means and power.  Even though he earned a good living by trading in these females, he preferred to look at his efforts as part of the ‘natural selection’ of life, a proven way to improve the species.  The most beautiful and talented women were provided as pleasure sluts to men of demonstrated ability; any offspring from this union were bound to be superior.  It was his little contribution to improving the world.

 

He had taken girls as young as fourteen, thinking about the short haired blonde English teenager that they’d snatched off of a Dominican beach.  Accompanied by her parents and younger brother, she’d had a remarkably well developed body for her age and had enjoyed flaunting it while wearing a tiny bikini to the beach.  At the same time, she’d been very stuck up and arrogant with the local boys.  It had turned out that she was actually just shy, but that didn’t matter to him.  They’d snatched her off the beach one day when she’d been swimming in shallow water.  He’d had her checked out after making their snatch and unfortunately hadn’t been able to sample her wares; she’d been a virgin and that ‘complication’ brought a shit load of money from corporate clients in Japan. 

 

That was a few years ago, and he didn’t think she was doing much flaunting anymore.  Her parents had gone nuts when she first disappeared and he wondered if they were even looking for her anymore.  He knew for fact that she would never want to go home again after what the Japanese had done to her.  She must seventeen or eighteen now, and he doubted that he would recognize her.  Those guys took their sex slaves very seriously and when you were put in a company brothel as a young girl, you were used by countless men over a period of years and it tended to affect your outlook on life.

 

He’d taken older women, some being professionals like the tanned brunette lawyer from Amsterdam.  She’d been ‘recruited’ after he saw her one night dressed to kill at a bar on Andros Island.  She’d been an arrogant bitch; he known this immediately as he’d watched her walk in one night wearing a short sundress and four inch stiletto heels.  The cunt had come in and looked around as if she were a queen or something and owned the place.  She had a great tan and long, naturally wavy brunette hair, high cheek bones and brown eyes.  

 

After picking out a table that ensured that she was the center of attention, she’d walked over and sat down.  After a moment, she crossed her gorgeous legs and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.  In his own mind, he immediately knew that he’d own her within two days.  He’d had no particular order to fill at that moment, but he knew he wanted her, needed to take her down to the bottom of the gutter where she belonged.  There was always a buyer for this kind of quality bitch when he finally tired of her. 

 

For a smart woman, she’d been pretty dumb.  It was pretty easy to drug her drink and then grab her.  He’d fucked her brains out for two weeks and showered her with punishment before selling her to a pimp that needed more bodies for a string of prostitutes that he ran out of Panama City.  She’d been grunting and sweating on her back in a whore’s crib for three years and he was pretty sure that she’d forgotten how to practice law.  The only practice she got now was letting strange men fill all her holes and then sucking on their cocks.

 

He thought about all of the young, uneducated, poor and even middle class girls that he’d been able to grab over the years.  There were so many that their faces merged and ran together.   Many had been tourists, but a lot had been locals.  One woman in particular had belonged to the local police force on a small island off the coast of Venezuela.  She’d been a beautiful girl with skin tanned brown from the sun and long dark brown hair with reddish highlights.  Athletic and with a great figure, she’d fought his men like a tiger from the beginning and his sex with her had been great.  It wasn’t just her body that he’d wanted, although it had been a joy to fuck her.  It had been her energy, the thing that made her HER---that was what he’d wanted. 

 

He’d ridden her like a mare in heat, and even now the thought of her gave him an erection.  Her personality had been naturally aggressive and this was what had probably attracted her to police work in the beginning.  He’d left her on a small island with his men for a week and at the end, he’d come in and fucked her in the ass just once.  He’d crippled her by almost puncturing her colon and then he’d just left her lying on the beach sand, crying and babbling in Spanish.  He hadn’t sold her and he knew that she’d survived, but she was a different woman---her fire had been snuffed out forever.  A pity, he thought; I’d truly enjoyed that flame.

 

He pictured the two Japanese sisters that he had taken off a beach in Buenos Aires and how submissive they had been from the very beginning.  It really is true what they say about women from that culture, he thought.  They had been eighteen and twenty years old and had brought over $40,000 since he’d sold them as a matched pair.  They both had been secretaries, but a little later he’d found out that they now starred in films and it was rumored that they quite enjoyed their trade.  He’d found that these two were different from most Oriental women in that they weren’t bowlegged.  Damn, he hated women with ugly legs.  There should be a law, he thought to himself.

 

He’d made sure that both were present as he fucked them in the cabin of the boat, but he didn’t enjoy them quite as much as he’d hoped.  Part of that he thought, had been due to their yielding so quickly to his will.  It was then that he’d discovered another truth about himself.  He didn’t particularly care to physically hurt his women, but he immensely enjoyed the looks on their faces when after a long fight, they realized for the first time that they truly were his property and would never be free again.  That look of broken will in their eyes; the utter subjugation that their posture screamed to the knowledgeable was worth all of the other bullshit with which he put up.

 

He remembered the two different times that he had been able to grab brides on their wedding day.  To reduce bad publicity, the local police had quickly reported that the brides had decided not to go through with their weddings because of nerves and had run away.  Both had been beautiful women, one Brazilian and one Australian.  He still savored the look of horror on their faces as HE was the first one to lift their bridal dress and go down on them on their wedding night, instead of their new husbands.  It had been a delicious irony as he slowly removed their wedding garters before initiating them into their new life of slavery.  Both had been indoctrinated wearing mainly bridal lingerie; it had been his little attempt at humor.  It had taken him four weeks to train the Brazilian bitch and he’d kept the Australian for almost two months, but she’d been a special case.

 

Right now, there was an active but little known sex trade going on in the Caribbean, and he was a major part of it.  Over the last eighteen months, he had already acquired for his own use a very nice redhead from Ireland and a tasty brunette from France.  But this principles’ tastes ran to young and hot, yet naďve blonde North Americans and Victoria was the answer to the most recent order he’d put in.  When these tourist girls disappeared, if the snatch was done correctly the search would generally last for no more than a few weeks before the excitement died down, so the business had really been quite profitable.

 

He knew that Victoria’s future was rather grim.  Once trained and delivered, if she pleased her new owner, she would be kept around for the foreseeable future or at least until her looks were gone; he knew for a fact that females used strictly for physical pleasure tended to age quickly when getting their guts fucked out day after day after day.  Especially when you combined that with the continual punishments inflicted upon these women.  And if she did not please her owner enough, in a couple of years she would be sold to any one of a hundred anonymous brothels that existed in the shitty cities of South and Central America.

 

Once she’d been sold, he knew her pimp would immediately hook her on heroin or crack, the better to control her, and then put her in a locked room and sell her ass.  All the men here wanted to fuck pretty young blonde American girls, so there would be no end of customers.  She’d also probably be sold from one pimp to another, and after a few years when her looks were finally gone, she’d be reduced to offering blowjobs on back streets just to survive.  None of the girls he’d provided over the years had ever wanted to go back home once they’d been reduced to that state.

 

The engines started and the boat smoothly departed.  Building up speed, the boat steadied at over fifteen knots and continued like this for over ten hours.  When the crew finally reached its destination, they anchored about three miles off of the deserted side of a small island that had few permanent inhabitants.  They were now over 180 miles away from where Vicki had been ‘recruited’ and the local police there were just now beginning to be aware that there might be a problem.  The boat was anchored facing shore, so that no one could see anything on the back of the boat.  When needed, the runabout would go ashore on the other side of the island and pick up supplies at the small store there.

 

Victoria had briefly regained consciousness while it was still dark.  Her mouth tasted like hell and her head hurt.  She was on some kind of a hammock she thought, since there was a rhythmic motion that had almost immediately lulled her back to sleep.

 

Day One: The Prize Is Softened

 

When I next awoke, I was disoriented and nauseated.  Somehow I knew that it was morning, but had no idea what day it was.  Even though there was a bright, almost stabbing sunlight shining through a couple of small portholes immediately over my head, the room spun and jittered as I moved my head.  A groan bubbled up from my core.  I took deep breaths and slowly the walls stopped their spinning.  Even though my mouth was filled with saliva, my lips felt dry and parched.  I tried to smack my lips together a couple of times since my mouth tasted awful, but I seemed to have difficulty doing so.  It was when I tried to rise off of the bed that I realized for the first time that my hands were bound to the head of the bed. 

 

Not sure what had happened, I turned and twisted my head in order to look but it felt like my head was too heavy for my shoulders.  But after a moment I tried again and after my eyes had finally focused, I saw wide leather straps around each wrist that were tied to the head of the bed.  First a wave of queasiness rolled over me, followed by a rush that coursed through my blood, a narcotic flooding my veins.  Immediately, I began a panicky struggle and that was when I found that my ankles were tied about five feet apart to posts at the foot of the bed.  My hips were killing me from having my legs spread like this for hours while I was unconscious.  For some reason my anus hurt and when I looked down at my feet, I realized in shock that except for my beautiful sandals, I was also naked.

 

A thrill of terror ran through my spine and I began struggling frantically against my bonds.  Because I had been tied so tightly, there was little slack for me to maneuver.  My struggles forced me to breathe strongly through my nose and it was this realization that told me I had been gagged.  My nipples were stiff now from my exertions and I was quickly covered with a light sheen of perspiration both from the humidity and my fear.

 

“Calm down, Victoria.  This has to be a nightmare”, I thought.  “I’m going to wake up in the morning and laugh about this.  This can’t really be happening.  It’s like something out of a cheap romance—or a horror novel.”  I finally stopped struggling and began trying to think; testing my bonds one at a time.  It was hopeless; I finally realized I wasn’t getting out of this on my own. 

 

I noticed an odd burning smell and felt a fear of fire since I was tied helplessly to this bed.

 

Eventually I began to look around the cabin.  There was a small dresser with a mirror on the wall behind it, a couch against the wall and two wooden chairs around a small table in the corner; it was then that I saw the man sitting motionless in one of the chairs.  He was like a huge statue, medium brown in color and with muscles jutting out all over his body.

 

I first froze at the sight of him and then shuddered and looked away.  His face was broad, heavy and seemed sodden with dark, brooding thought.  His eyes under bushy brows were dark gleams of fire.  One half of his face appeared normal, even handsome, but an intricate tattoo decorated some of the other half.  The pattern was complex, professionally designed and skillfully applied; it gave him a fierce, almost demonic look.  He looked like a black Lucifer.  The tattoo was a mask meant to stop other’s eyes from seeing what was under it.  He later told me that it was damage done to him in his youth by an angry father when he had first begun trafficking in young women. 

 

Suddenly, my reality rushed back and the sight of this unknown man brought a fresh paroxysm of struggles, again to no avail.   I was trapped and I knew it.

 

He sat in the chair for another five minutes without saying a word, just watching Victoria.  He could tell that being naked in front of this strange, unfamiliar black man totally humiliated her.  He watched as she writhed slowly, trying to achieve a position in which her vagina was covered, but she was unsuccessful.  Although not her fault, Vic’s nakedness still shamed her; she didn’t know that her inability to cover her nakedness was part of his plan.  He watched as her eyes darted to various parts of the cabin, as if there would be a rescuer hiding in one of the corners.  There was no one.

 

The team had taken photographs of the fifteen best looking single white women currently available on Cancun and forwarded them to the ‘Principle’.  Upon looking at the photos, it was clear that Victoria was the cream of this crop and he had put in his order accordingly.  Once a choice had been made, the team had followed her day and night during her vacation.  When she walked into a clothing store, they knew her dress size thirty minutes later.  After she had visited multiple stores, they were aware of her every measurement.  Being confident of their acquisition, they had purchased clothing and lingerie for Vicki, as well as numerous other things.  Given the opportunity, they knew she would be well trained when they were finished—quite well trained indeed!

 

The man in the chair finally gave her a slight smile and said, “Good morning, Victoria.  Listen to me and listen carefully.  How your next few weeks go depend solely upon you.”

 

Bossman had watched her reactions as she awoke and seen nothing different from most of the women that he had previously taken.  At the same time, he knew that each woman that he took had to be treated differently.  After taking so many women, he had become something of an expert in the psychology of turning unwilling ‘recruits’ into willing slaves.  He thought back to the last meeting of his team just before they’d kidnapped the blonde teenager; it was then that they’d finally decided how she would be handled.

 

He was known for providing top of the line females to his clients and he prided himself on his reputation in this niche market.  He’d made a lot of money doing this, but actually it was a much a sport for him as it was a business.  In addition to his formal training, he was a natural psychologist and he’d spent a lot more time just learning about people in general.  He used this knowledge when analyzing the women he took; this was why he was so successful.  But he’d have been this analytical anyway, whether or not he was a slaver---because this was his nature.

 

Bossman knew that everyone has beliefs.  The more central these beliefs are to the idea of who we are, the more difficult they are to change.  But if that central belief IS changed, the greater the effect on that person.  If he could change her view of herself more towards what he desired, the more profound effect he would have on ALL of her related beliefs and values.

 

He also knew that he would have to control everything around the girl because what he planned on doing to her would be most successful only in an environment of complete coercion.  Finally, he was aware that people are most likely to change when fed a line of bullshit that is consistent with what they see as their own values.

 

Creating a good slave always consisted of two parts.  Breaking their will to resist generally took two days to a week to accomplish, and consisted of pure and simple physical and sexual torture under controlled conditions, all of which continued non-stop until the recruit broke.  He would generally join the initial part of this stage, reserving as his right the opportunity to take the ‘first taste’ from his victim.  After that, he tended to maintain a distance from the ‘prize’ and allowed his crew full access, but always under his specific directions and control. 

 

The second phase took place after the subject broke and this was where he began the psychological manipulations with which he had been so successful.  This was where he took a young woman that had been protected her whole life---a woman who had been taught from birth that everyone were equal and had equal rights, and that good things happened to good people---all of that happy horseshit, and he turned her into a compliant and even enthusiastic slut that would willingly do anything that her Master might order.  He never participated in either physical or sexual activities with the slave during this stage since it tended to defeat his purposes.

 

Bossman was very familiar with what was needed to reprogram another’s behavior---both with and without the accompanying use of drugs.  Russia had experimented with ‘brain washing’ drugs from the ‘50s to the ‘70s.  While their military had not followed up on this research, some of their government labs had greatly advanced this science in the last fifteen or twenty years.  He obtained the advanced psychoactive drugs that he used on his recruits from a couple of Russian expatriates that he knew in Cuba.  He’d found these ‘friendship’ drugs helpful because they suppressed the women’s natural inclinations and emotional defenses and opened their minds to points-of-view that were radically different from what they might normally feel. 

 

Regardless of what you may read in fiction, most people aren’t too enthusiastic about being mentally reprogrammed by another and tend to fight it every step of the way.  He’d been using these drugs for the last fifteen years and they were a true marvel; his subjects had no idea that they were getting them with their morning supplements.  The drugs began to take effect after two to three days.  The full effect of the drug really screwed the bitches up; they became confused and didn’t know what was going on in their heads; they’d feel both pleasure and fear at the same time when they saw the men, they’d want to please the men and at the same time fail in their training, they’d be unhappy at disappointing the men and trying to undermine them at the same time.  It was delicious watching the women try to figure out what the hell was happening to them.  But over time, the drugs worked---damn did they work; once he’d switched over to using them, they’d multiplied by ten-fold the effects of his psychological and physical manipulations alone---and that alone made his work both easier and resulted in a much higher success rate.  His income had at least quadrupled with these drugs.

 

At the same time that he used these ‘friendship’ drugs and denied them sleep, the female was also subjected to unusually intense and prolonged periods of physical and sexual ‘persuasion’.  This sex had nothing to do with eroticism and everything to do with coercion and humiliation.  These stages became longer and increasingly aggressive as the crew followed the menu that he’d laid out.  Ultimately, the women would realize that they were in a situation from which there was no escape; that they were isolated on the boat and forced into allowing their behavior to be modified.  The finality of this realization and its impact on their psyche was important in both breaking them and training them.

 

As part of helping them truly understand the finality of their situation, he kept them gagged during this initial period except for the short time when they were allowed to eat or drink.  Even then, they were under orders to not say a word unless answering a question.  If they did, they were punished severely.  They were not ALLOWED to give up too early---for his purposes, it was important that the girl give up on HIS terms and not hers.  Because of this, he ensured that the sexual torture and pain of the recruit continued for many long hours after the men knew that she’d finally given up all hope of ever being saved.  For he’d found that it was only by this that the slave would truly understand at a ‘gut level’ what had happened to her.  She had to be physically defeated and her will to fight had to be totally crushed early in her new role as a slave; it was only by grinding her into emotional and psychological dust that she would understand that she began at the bottom in her new life and only earned relief from their torture by her continued acceptable behavior.

 

Once he broke them, their training would begin.  As part of this, he took away their individuality and anything that might give them emotional sustenance.  They were allowed nothing from their previous life that might give them support in any way and they were forced to participate in continually more immoderate and intense sexual acts and scenarios; the more extreme behaviors in which they were forced to participate were generally foreign and/or even degrading to all but a small percentage of them.  The more he could get them ‘involved’ in these acts, the more that he got them to buy into what they were doing, the more he could accelerate their forcible indoctrination.

 

He also began coercive reprogramming of her beliefs along with increasing the dosage of the drugs.  It was at this point that he really started to get inside their heads.  There were always things about themselves about which they were ashamed, some little act or peculiarity of character---something about themselves that they kept from everyone else.  There were also things about themselves that they kept from themselves---everyone lied to themselves about something.  It was with these little things that he would attack their beliefs about themselves and the world around them; if all went well, by the end of ten to fourteen days, in addition to being a well trained piece of ass, most of his women had adopted the majority, if not all of his perspectives on sexuality and relationships.  He’d proved this to his satisfaction time and time again; so much of sex and sexuality was in the mind, not the body.  And if he was successful, at this point they would WANT to do just about anything a man demanded just to please the man.

 

The rest of his crew’s time was spent both in training the woman in new sexual techniques and in reinforcing her new beliefs.  Above all else, Bossman firmly believed in aggressively reinforcing the aspect of ‘total submission’.  There were minor acts and major acts of submission demanded of all of his women during this part of their re-education.  Again and again, he put his recruits into terribly demeaning physical, psychological and emotional situations; situations that demanded complete and total submission to a man, her new Master. 

 

But while each act of submission was carefully thought out to ensure that it took the recipient through the increasingly higher levels of pain and humiliation, the men were only human.  The women being trained were always beautiful and sometimes when they didn’t cooperate, the men became a little too enthusiastic and went a little too far.  At that point, he had to improvise in order to incorporate into his training whatever the men might have done to the helpless woman.

 

As for Victoria, while there were some very specific things that he had to do to her, he had no doubt they would break her.  Of this, he had absolutely no doubt.  And as her training progressed after that, she would become more and more aware that almost every act of submission of which these men could think, no matter how small, would be demanded of her.  And that no matter how much she gave in to them, no matter how many times she cooperated and yet each episode would still always end badly for her, there would always be even yet more humiliations demanded of her.  But she would also come to learn that not giving in to their demands would be even worse for her.  And at the same time, her ongoing psychological training would ensure that the urge to cooperate with her captors became more and more compelling.  The ultimate test would be to see if she would submit to a man’s will even if she understood that doing so threatened her life.

 

***

 

Continuing his train of thought, “We know everything about you.  But what YOU need to know is that your life has just taken a big-time change; you’re not your mother’s daughter now, you’re not your daddy’s little girl anymore, you’re not a teenager going to college anymore and there’s no boyfriend or super hero coming through that door to save you.  No one knows you’re here and in a week or so, no one will care about you anymore.  And in a week---you won’t want anyone rescuing you.”

 

He spoke with a trace of a Caribbean accent, but one blunted by years away from home.  I wouldn’t look at him now.  The way I was tied, I wasn’t able to fight him, but I knew that if I could ignore him, I could somehow pretend to myself that he wasn’t there.

 

“Girl, there is an eternal sexual dance that all of us go through, but which women feel that men simplify and look at all romantic things as either strategy or obligation.”  “But”, he stated, “I’m also going to show you that there’s a seductive power that is found by women when they embrace the inexplicable with utter abandon.  Your oh-so protected life so far hasn’t yet taught you this, but the human mind is the most sensitive and responsive sexual organ in the body and I’m going to help you find and embrace the future that for you is inevitable.”

 

“As a teenager you’ve read novels that were written about seduction fantasies--but they were just that, fantasies.  The reality here, your new reality, is that I’ll have your body no matter what you do, but it’s your mind that I’m after; you’d better understand that.  I own you now, but I’ll OWN you when I’m done with you.”

 

He continued, “The simple truth is that you’ve been “recruited” as a sex slave for one of my clients—you’re a piece of ass now and in the next couple of week, you’ll be trained for him by us.  I prefer obedience to independent thought; it’s much less work for me.  So---you can either fight me, and you’ll lose with a lot of pain involved on your part, or you can give me what I want now; your choice.”

“I have no doubt that you are like every other teenage girl alive and have had fantasies that you‘ve never told to anyone else.  We’re going to teach you to embrace the fine line that separates your dark fantasies from reality.  We’re going to help you to blur those boundaries ahead of time, and help you see what happens.  Many popular girls your age are wanton sluts---I blame MTV for that.  The rest however, are fit only to work in libraries.  You however, on the surface seem to be different from all of them; beautiful, yet shy.  Naturally sexy, yet truly naďve about your affect on men.  But I’m going to take pleasure in proving to you that you are just as much a creature of sex as the sluts are.”

I tried to move my wrists as he talked.  When he told me what he had planned for me, I again struggled trying to free my hands and feet.  After a moment, I stopped and lay on the bed taking deep lungfuls of air through my nose, trying to not to panic at my feelings of suffocation.

 

As he began talking again, a second man walked into the cabin and stood waiting.  I quickly glanced at him and noticed in a crazy moment of thought that he looked like a black Elvis might at 50 years of age.

He continued, “You know, to seduce a man, women will wear a pair of killer heels in bed, maybe a teddy or a mask; maybe change the way you hold yourself as he watches.  The line moves forward, the dance changes tempo, the props evolve with it.  Suddenly, the music is deliciously dark.”

I came out of my thoughts and listened as he continued, “But to connect with women, I’ve found that it’s different.  It’s about knowing how the entire dance relates to your past; your cold and distant father, that one boy that went too far too fast.  It’s about your needs, about me caressing them, taking them and swallowing them whole.  It’s about your fear, which in moderation can be very sweet.  Victoria, you’re too naďve to know this yet, but I don’t care.  Soon you’ll be pretending I’m just some dark forbidden pleasure when in reality what I’m going to be doing is feeding your demons; and these things are never going away.  You’ll always have them and you’ll be mine.”

Even if I couldn’t protect myself, I still continued to avert my face from him.  But his last comment forced me to look at him.  Oh my God, I thought to myself, how did he know about my one experiment with sex?  How could he know just how unfulfilling and just down right unpleasant it had been?  I’d always thought that I might be a sexual person if just given the opportunity, but I’d shut myself off after that one time and had not yet met anyone that I felt might be able to re-ignite my feelings for men.

“You see yourself as the kind of person that is selfless, always wanting to give to others.  You won’t understand this yet and I know that you won’t believe me when I tell you that my demands are eventually going to be intoxicating for someone like you.  But soon you will.  You’re too young and too inexperienced to understand yourself yet---you don’t understand your needs and they frighten you sometimes.  It’s a balancing act between worship and consumption, between possession and obsession, about absorbing and devouring that which inflames our lust.  I’m going show you the ecstasy in willingly handing over your will and your anguish and your body to a dark lover, one who causes your pain and who licks and enjoys your tears even while he puts you in a protective embrace.”

“I’ll know what you need the moment you need it and I’ll give it to you in ways you never imagined, in ways that transcends all those books you’ve read and anything that you could have dreamed.”

At the same time, in his mind he was thinking, you’ll eventually understand that what you’ve given me when I’m done with you is everything you are.  I have your body, but what I want is your mind and your soul.  How frightened would you be if you knew that I’ve taken a hundred women like you and broken them all?  That every one has given me exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed?  That I’m good at my job and I enjoy it—I just wish I could tell you how very much I enjoy it.  How I KNOW that a woman with your kind of looks was put on this earth for only one reason, and that’s to give pleasure to a man.  That bitches like you should not be allowed to squander your body on just any man, but need to be subdued and domesticated like any other wild animal, then savored and enjoyed by the right man.  A man that will appreciate your beauty and your youth, and who will choose when and how and where he takes you and who will choose to share you with others of his kind.  And if you learn nothing else, I promise you, you’ll learn to obey and to give pleasure.

I laid on the bed listening to this man talk about things that I barely understood.  He wasn’t going to absorb me and there was no way I would willingly cooperate with him.  Anything he wanted, he would have to take from me and it would be against my will in every way and forever.

 

He continued speaking, “I’m going to show you that it’s all about your giving, while you pretend that I’m taking.  In the end, it’s about intimacy, about you and I wallowing in naked honesty, about you not being alone with your fright and your distress and your pain.  You have fears and needs, and you’ll want to lose yourself in that desire, to give me the gift of your suffering….and the more dismal the better, because there in the darkness you have no accountability for your own cravings, there you are a little girl again and a victim of your own beauty.  And I’ll be there to save you from yourself and give your life meaning.”

 

He looked at her and said, “In the end, to do this to you is in a way really very simple.  There are only two things that I need to discover and take from you.  One; what is it that you hide from us?  With ones like you, there is always something, one small critical thing that you hide from others.  The other is what do you hide from yourself?  There are always things about which we lie to ourselves; what is it that you keep secret even from yourself?  You may not even be aware of these things yet yourself.  But as soon as I approach them, you will immediately know how valuable they are to you---and to me.  You will try to deceive, but in the end you will fail.”

 

“Once I discover what you wish above all else to be kept hidden from us, you’ll have given me the lever to move your world.  And when I strip away that cloak of familiarity which allows you to lie to yourself, you’ll have no place left to run to or hide when all of your other beliefs about yourself come crashing down around you.”

 

“And by doing this, I will force you to go through the most major upheaval in your life that you have yet faced.  This will be of far greater significance to you than being kidnapped by us, for it will mean that you will have to change your view of me and you and your world.  I’m going to give you the equivalent of a cosmic mid-life crisis; I’ll change your beliefs about yourself, and I’ll change your values and the way that you want to behave---and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

 

“Woman, be aware.  You can’t escape from me.  If you try, you’ll find that you need to be able to swim, a lot.  And even if you did somehow manage to get away, do you believe that I would allow your family to also be that lucky?  Your parents are on TV right now, talking about you and your disappearance.  They love you profoundly---do you love your mom and dad as deeply in return?  Do you love your pretty aunt?  Do you love your family enough to keep them safe and out of this?  Your purse had everything that we need to know about you.  We know the address of your home in Mississippi.  We know where your aunt and your grandparents live.  We know where your friends live.  The police can’t protect all of them forever.  You belong to me; I will have your body.  But if necessary, I promise that we’ll have your mother and your aunt here inside of 24 hours and they’ll take your place on this bed.”

 

He leaned forward and stared at her intensely.  “Do you want that?  Do you believe me?  Do you want to see your mother taking your place here, tied spread eagled and naked on this bed?  Only you can protect them---only you!”  Without waiting for an answer, he leaned into her face and glared at her fiercely, “I am a man of my word.  Look into my eyes—do you believe me?”

 

She looked into his fierce brown eyes and she believed.

 

“Of course,” he continued as he leaned back into his chair, “you can always try to commit suicide.  But that’s not really an option for a good Catholic girl like you, is it?”  

 

She ignored his jibe and refused to look at him.  Bossman then gave a nod and while he talked, the other man approached Vic.  “Your new owner has several requirements regarding his newly acquired slaves.”

 

With his left hand, Elvis grabbed a handful of Victoria’s blonde hair and twisted her head sharply toward her right shoulder, while with his right hand he reached down and grabbed a small electric device that had rested unnoticed by Vicki’s head.  The faint burning smell that she had noticed before was explained as the end of the rod was heated almost red hot.  Without warning or hesitation, he immediately plunged it behind her left ear into her hairline.  Victoria tried to cry out as she felt an intense burning pain and suddenly smelled burning hair.  While he let go of her hair and withdrew the small branding iron after about five seconds, his actions had left her green eyes bulging in shock and pain as she looked at him again.

 

Bossman had a slight smile on his face as he explained, “Your new master likes all of his property marked, so that there’ll no mistakes, no errors.  Your brand is small and quite discrete.  I know it won’t bother you at all,” he assured her.

 

I’d been branded like a wild cow.  I hadn’t even had time to begin crying and the act was already complete.  I looked at him as tears of pain, anger and humiliation flooded my eyes, and then rolled down my cheeks.  Finally a rage started to build inside of me. 

 

“This just can’t be happening to me,” I thought.  “This isn’t possible in this day and age.”

 

Without another word, Elvis then climbed on the bed and straddled my stomach.  His weight made it almost impossible for me to expand my chest to breath and it totally immobilized me.  Reaching just above my head, he removed a rubber glove and put it on his right hand.  Holding that hand clear, he then used his left hand to slap first my right breast and then my left.  No one had ever treated me like this and for a second I was frozen with shock.  But then I reacted wildly, throwing myself from side to side in an attempt to get away from him.  I knew from the beginning that it was futile, but I had to try.  Keeping me pinned, the man continued pinching my nipples and slapping me, first on one breast and then other, until both nipples were standing completely erect. 

 

Grabbing my left breast and roughly immobilizing my nipple between his left forefinger and thumb, Elvis smiled and said, “That’s nice”.  Reaching just above my head again, but now with his gloved right hand, he pulled out something about the size of a large bobbie pin and without hesitation, drove it from the outside to the inside of the base of my nipple, completely piercing my left breast.  I bucked and shrieked my pain through the gag, resulting in a surprisingly loud howl of anguish.

 

Keeping me pinned with his body weight, the man left in the first needle piercing my breast.  He reached up to grab a second one and proceeded to pierce my right nipple in the same manner.   I was gasping and huffing for breath, choking with saliva accumulating behind my gag, trying to blink away the tears that were streaming from my eyes.  The pain in each nipple was both sharp and intense and wouldn’t go away.  It just seemed to build and build.  The pain was tremendous, I was now heavily sweating from head to foot and was still finding even more difficult to get enough air.

 

Little blood leaked from the punctures in her breasts and without a word, Elvis withdrew the needle from her left nipple and pushed a thin one inch long gold bar through the hole left behind.  There was a one inch ring on one end of the bar, while the other end was threaded. His hands were huge, so it was only with difficulty that he screwed a small decorative cap on the inside end of the bar nearest her heart.  Turning to her right breast, he repeated these motions.  Vicki now had a small bar through each nipple with a ring on the outside of each tit.  Finally, he put a drop of liquid gold solder on each cap, effectively locking each bar into Victoria’s breasts. 

 

Bossman looked at her thoughtfully and said, “This hurts now, but you’ll be OK soon.  We’ve done this before and I guarantee you’ll be healed by the end of the week.”  Standing up and walking over to her, he took a small tube of ointment out his right pocked and softly rubbed it into soft flesh of each pierced area.

 

I knew that my eyes blazed with rage at what he had just ordered done to me; I would die before I gave him any satisfaction.  I turned my face away, refusing to look at him.  If I could just hold on long enough, I knew that something would happen to give me a chance to escape.

 

Bossman smiled to himself.  Having done this so often before, he could read her eyes like an open book and he was not at all worried.   She would never have a chance to get free while on the boat, and by the time he was done with her, she wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly.

 

It had been good start with the nipples and the branding, he thought.  She really was quite naďve.  With this one, her beautiful green eyes were a window to her soul and they let him know at every step just how effective he was and what he had to do next.  Time to begin.  He had broken many women before, as he would this one.  With these women, there was always a script to follow; his experience told him that the psychological aspect was always more important in breaking her will than the physical force and intimidation was to sapping her strength. 

 

**

 

While he knew that he wanted her, he still hadn’t decided in detail what was required to turn her into what he wanted.  She didn’t seem particularly strong willed, but on Cancun his crew had uncovered some interesting facts.  While intelligent, she’d been overly protected by her family and as a result was fairly unsophisticated.  Additionally, she had some strong beliefs, particularly about her family; these feelings of loyalty and belonging were rather quaint and old-fashioned and he thought he might be able to take advantage of them. 

 

Another interesting tidbit was that while she tended to view herself as modest and shy, perhaps even chaste, there were also instances in which she’d portrayed just the opposite behavior.  Certainly there had been a couple of times in Cancun when to their surprise, the watchers had felt that after a couple of drinks, she’d actually come onto a couple of guys, one at the beach and another at a bar one night.  At the same time, she’d also dressed in a way that his men had perceived as quite provocative.  Nothing had come of it, but it was interesting because it seemed anomalous.  To him, there seemed to be a disconnect between how she acted sometimes and how she always saw herself.  Taken together, this tended to suggest that she was much more sexually charged than perhaps even she was aware.

 

His crew had taken pictures and videos of her on Cancun and emailed them to him.  His first thought when he saw her was how young she looked to him.  But, then again, they all looked young to him now.  After viewing the films taken of her by his crew at Cancun and listening to her conversations that had been secretly taped, he decided on the following:  The crew would isolate her on the boat and would begin to sexually brutalize her; at the same time, he would also put her on an immediate program of the “friendship” drugs.  Within reason, the men would have free rein with her body.  Victoria would be gagged and not be allowed to ‘quit the game’ too early---she must be forced to experience the full brunt of terror and helplessness.  She would not be allowed to sleep and she would be given the minimum amount of food that would allow her body to still continue functioning.  There would be no clocks and she would soon become temporally disoriented, losing any sense of time other than daylight and darkness.  She would not be allowed to perform her bodily functions in a normal manner and multiple ways would be found to punish her using her own filth for extended periods.  This tended to hasten the psychological fracturing of the young and previously protected girls.

 

Once she’d broken, he would begin his re-education program.  He’d take away her given name to remove any emotional support that it might give her.  As best he could, he would also develop a positive relationship with her.  He would ensure that he was not actually physically involved in either breaking her or participating in her day to day sexual reprogramming or training that would follow. 

 

In fact, he would avoid Victoria during her training periods.  He had to be seen in a way as the absent ‘Master’, perhaps only being around afterwards.  A corollary to this that he had discovered was that once she was broken, one or two of the men had to be seen as particularly brutal in their training and discipline, while she had to see at least another one of the crewman as almost supportive or even being worthy of trust.  During this initial period, the ‘evil’ man would be gentle with her every now and then, while the ‘nice’ man might present himself as supportive one day and be abusive the next.  This was all necessary in order to keep her psychologically off balance---she must unlearn any habits of being able to ‘trust her instincts.’

 

The training program he would use consisted of using force to compel her to perform explicit sexual acts, most of which he was sure that she would initially find degrading.  When she cooperated, she would be rewarded, while strong physical and psychological punishments would be used to punish unacceptable behavior.  If she was like the others, Vicki would then very quickly begin to accept performing sexually for the men.  Once she was started down this road, the level of sexual humiliation would then be continually revised upwards.

 

While physical force was important, probably the main psychological coercion used against her would be her family (physically threatening close family members if she was uncooperative, convincing Victoria that her family had abandoned her and through conversation, subtly attacking loyalty to family as old-fashioned and perhaps even inappropriate or unwarranted under the circumstances). 

 

Finally, he would show her how she explicitly presented a sexually conflicted personality.  He would use this to undermine Victoria’s defense of her conservative sexual core-values in order to bring out what should be the ‘true, more liberated’ her.  Hopefully, this would allow Victoria to eventually view the willingly promiscuous behavior demanded of her as not only acceptable, but perhaps even desirable or ‘freeing.’ 

 

Taken together as a whole, the reprogramming that he put his women through was extremely powerful.  Even if they were educated and knew exactly what was being done to them at the time, it was generally impossible for the women to fight it.  And when the uninitiated were shown later what had been done to them and why, their reaction was invariably that of tears and acceptance of their fate, rather than to fight.

 

Bottom line: in Victoria, he wanted to create both a woman that was a submissive sex addict and who would also be totally undiscriminating in her behavior at the demand of any she perceived as having power over her.  If he was successful, she’d be everything he wanted.  And he had no reason to think he would fail here after he’d been successful so many times in the past.

 

**

 

Bossman always reserved first taste for himself.  He began the dance that would ultimately end with her total subjugation by turning away from her and saying; “I don’t think I like you; I know I don’t like what you stand for.  You have an over-bearing pride, you’re white and you’re from the south.  We’ve been watching you for two weeks, and you don’t seem to like black men.  Now, I find that interesting.”

 

She watched him from her bed as a mouse might watch a dangerous cat.

 

He had taken off his tank top while speaking and folded it.  He was a methodical man.

 

He then began removing his trunks: “And the thing that’s interesting is that I have a hand picked crew of four just like me waiting up top for you.  You’re going to be broken and trained by the very thing in life that you have done your best to avoid.” 

 

He folded his trunks and put them on top of his tank top.

 

He now stood up straight facing away from her.  He was tall and built like a bull from the back.   “Think about your mother and your aunt, and whether it’s better for you to go through this ordeal or if both of them should be here taking your place.  By the way, your aunt’s a tasty piece and I almost hope you do something stupid.”

 

With that he slowly turned around and faced me.  It took me a moment to register what I was looking at and then I screamed and frantically began struggling against my bonds.  He was huge!  At least 9 or 10 inches long and the straining purple head of his circumcised cock looked like it was the size of an orange!  His erection and nutsack were a darker color than the rest of him and his engorged penis jutted out into the air like a huge flag pole which narrowed only a little from tip to base.

 

I’d only been with one man before and knew there was no way that this mutant could fit into me without tearing my flesh.  He was a monster and I struggled so desperately as he approached me that I was now only subconsciously aware of my nakedness and the vulnerability it offered him.  He slowly approached and stood in front of me for a minute, letting me see him clearly.  Then he slowly lay down on top of me and between my bound legs, letting his weight settle onto me.  He was both heavy and solid, and my breathing became instantly more difficult.  Claustrophobia roared into my mind: I felt nauseous and thought I might have to throw up and that would be bad with a gag in my mouth.  The thought, “God, no. No, no, no, nnnnooooo,” kept running through my head.

 

As I threw my head from side to side in my struggles, I felt him move around on my belly and hips, settling into a more comfortable position on me.  I kept trying to move to make it more difficult for him when suddenly he moved his hips and his aim was perfect.  However, my vagina was dry and my lips difficult at first to part; he stopped abruptly after forcing only about one inch of the massive head of his cock into my pussy on his first attempt. 

 

I was a sexually inexperienced teenager and this felt like some one was trying to drive a truck into me.  I screamed and knew that he was tearing me apart, but there was nothing I could do.  I bucked as I felt the lips of my vagina stretching beyond belief.  I desperately tried to close my legs, but the ankle bindings kept my legs open and me completely vulnerable to him.  The muscles on the insides of my thighs strained against my bonds, but my knees moved together only a little, reducing my availability to him by just inches.  This had to be a nightmare!  It just had to be!!

 

Her screams were louder than he liked so he grabbed her hair and pulled her head up allowing him to reach in back and tighten the straps on the gag, reducing her wailing screams to a more acceptable level of one long “Uhhhhnnnnmmpphhhhhh!”  His next thrust was more pleasurable to him, since he buried about four inches of his bone into her this time.  Her pussy had begun to lubricate a little and he knew that he should be able to bury his cock to hilt in her when he slammed his next thrust home.  He looked down at her face, the look of shock on it showing how completely rational thought had fled this teenage beauty due to the cynical manipulation of her mind combined with his sheer overpowering maleness.

 

I found myself looking at the ceiling over his right shoulder through eyes blurred by tears.  God knows I tried to struggle, but I couldn’t seem to get enough air even if I had been both free and strong enough to try to throw him off of me.  After suffering through his first two penetrations, I knew that would be able to take from me whatever he wanted with his next one.  And even without fully penetrating me, his erection was huge and still seemed to completely fill me.  I was shamed at my helplessness, and filled with horror that I could not stop him.  It was total violation and he was in complete control.

 

With his third thrust into me, I knew with absolute certainty that he now possessed me completely---there was nothing left inside that he hadn’t explored with his last move.  I felt my eyes bulge as the head of his thick cock seemed to bang against the base of my throat.  I screamed again in pain as I felt my flesh tear; my cry carrying out over the water but being lost long before reaching the nearby island.  Amazingly, my ass hurt almost as much as my pussy as he filled me beyond my physical limits!  God help me, why was this happening?  Why me, God?  Why me?  His shaft was now buried inside me up to hilt and it felt as if it was the size of a tree trunk. . He was so big that every time he moved on me, it made me instinctively try to pull my knees up into my chest to protect myself, but with my ankles tied down all I could do was strain helplessly against my bonds.

 

He now began taking long, slow, deep satisfying strokes into her inexperienced body.  With every thrust, his balls slapped against the crack of her ass.  To him the moist heat from her cunt felt great; she extraordinarily tight around his cock and he knew that each time he thrust into her, he was filling her completely.  She responded to his every thrust with a muffled “Mmmmppphhh” or “Kkkgghhnoooo” and to each withdrawal with a soft, heartfelt moan.  This was always the best part, he thought to himself; to be able to control a beautiful, untamed woman like this and to know that he could do anything to her in any way he chose.  She was his and he was going to tame her, making his claim the best way he knew.

 

My whole world centered on the sensations I was enduring.  I shuddered uncontrollably as I tried to breathe, and kept losing my breath as he slammed into me again and again and yet again.  This made it almost impossible for me to scream, but yet I still tried on almost every thrust into my belly.  His penis not only filled my pussy, but in addition, seemed to be rubbing and pushing and sliding against every organ in my body.  The sensations were totally unlike anything I had ever experienced before; his cock inside me gave me a feeling of fullness like my vagina was expanded far beyond its natural size and was pushing against my pelvis from the inside.

 

He was a machine made of flesh and wouldn’t stop.  Sweat rolled off of him onto me.  My body was covered with his sweat, and it was especially slick on my belly and chest.  His sweat somehow felt thick and smelled musky.  Every now and then he would just stop and lay on me, always ensuring that his cock continued to impale me.  He would be breathing heavily, but that was his only movement.  It was another one of his tortures.  His giant organ was buried completely inside me, and although it was motionless it seemed to throb and heat radiated out from it in waves.  It seemed to be like an animal laying in wait, ready to take me by force as it consumed me over and over again.   During those moments in which neither of us moved, I was physically connected to him only by the rigid bar of his engorged flesh, but it was enough to still control my body and my every thought.

 

He then would begin thrusting into me again randomly changing angles of penetration as his hips drove into me, first slamming into me at a shallow angle to my body.  With each of these thrusts, he did his best to drive my body toward the head of the bed.  Only my ankle restraints kept me in a position ready to receive his next frenzied lunge.  Then he would slide up my stomach and assume a more blunt angle to my body, where each thrust would rub more against my clitoris and he seemed to trying to drive me into the bed, as if he had to break its springs.  The pressure and friction on my clit from the unceasing hammering he gave me in this position was unbearable.  Once he was inside me body and possessed me in this sort of way, even if my legs had been free to move, I instinctively knew that I could not prevent him from doing whatever he wanted to me.

 

This was not sex.  He was like a force of nature.  How could you fight a hurricane or a tornado?  There was no fighting this, all one could do was try to survive.  I knew I was being totally consumed, raped by an animal; and all I could do was endure.  I told myself it would soon be over and prayed he would let me go then.  Very soon, it did begin to be a little easier as my juices had finally began to flow freely, but that didn’t matter as he just kept going on and on, pistoning his cock into me for over ten minutes.  His weight at the end was unbearable upon my sweat-slick belly and groin.

 

Finally, he groaned softly; I sensed that he would soon be cumming.  This thought filled me with dread.  I was dizzy at this point, and either kept my eyes closed or tried staring at a point on the ceiling of the cabin.  My inexperienced vagina was very sore at this point from his unending pile driver slams into me.  I could feel how my body had betrayed me by finally allowing him completely inside me, stretching to accommodate his enormous erection.

 

He had found Victoria to be physically extraordinary, capable of accepting his full cock from almost the first thrust.  Few white women were able to take what he’d given her without being gradually warmed up by getting only a few inches at a time.  When he’d taken others like this, he’d actually injured a couple of the lesser ones.  He was an expert in this and regardless of how she might feel right now, her vagina had taken him in without injury and she was now easily accepting anything he could put into her.  He knew that he could put her body in other positions that would allow him to make her scream for mercy in seconds, but those he kept as punishment for later.

 

To extend his pleasure, he’d been stopping whenever he felt an orgasm build.  He always tried to maintain control when he was on a job, and he always knew when he’d gone far enough.  He felt a boiling in his loins now, and he knew he was going to cum soon and couldn’t control it anymore.  He wanted her to feel his ownership; he needed to plant himself in her so deep that she would never be touched like this by another man.  If he’d had her in certain other….positions, he knew that he would have had to be more careful.  But with her flat on her back like this, he knew that he could finally let himself go, give rein to his overpowering animal lust and penetrate her as deeply as his heart desired without hurting her too much.  With nothing in his mind except the will to dominate and to subjugate, the need to prove eternal ownership, he pushed off the end of the bed with his feet and tried to get that all important last centimeter deeper into her hot, tight  moist hole before he finally lost all control.

 

With horror, I felt him hunch up on me and then brace his feet on the foot of the bed, allowing him push into me as deeply as he could one more last time; almost as if with this last move, he could claim my body as his forever, if he just planted his seed deeply enough in my belly.  He was now deeper in me than was humanly possible, bumping right up against my cervix.  Then he began to cum and huge great waves of heat began to blossom inside my loins as he injected into me his semen.  These sensations filled my body as my tears blinded me; I knew that I could go no lower. 

 

I could actually feel him ejaculate; he came in gushing, cutting jets of semen that seemed to travel almost to the tip of my womb, resulting in a series of sensations so intense that I almost passed out.  I could tell when each spurt occurred, because of the lava-like heat each new ejaculation generated inside my vagina.  He came in torrents, leaving scalding hot fluid deep inside my belly.  Each spurt of his semen caused a scalding pain/pleasure throb that seemed to go on forever.  Finally, he was finished with me for now and lay upon me catching his breath. 

 

He’d just had a mind blowing orgasm inside this beautiful young teenage girl.  After a couple of minutes, he finally had caught his breath and was ready for act two.  He grabbed Vic’s hair and pulled her head to the right again and whispered into her ear, “I hope your birth control is working well, because if it’s not, you’re going to be having a nice little half breed nigger baby to take home to daddy in about nine months!”  He was playing mind games now, using any psychological wedge that might help him eventually break her or control her.

 

With shock, I remembered that I’d been at the end of my BC patch and had planned on replacing it when I got back home.  I hadn’t been with a man in over a year and used birth control more to help regulate my periods than to protect me from an unwanted pregnancy.  I’d become careless in this---oh God, he couldn’t have known this, it must be a coincidence.  At the same time, a small voice whispered in my head and told me that he was right; a woman always knew these things.  Oh God, he might be right; after what he’d just done to me, I might be pregnant, I could be having his child.  And if I couldn’t get free of him, there was nothing I could do about it.  I just knew that somehow I’d get out of this bind, but oh my god, what would my father do?

 

While I was not a violent or aggressive person, but even with his penis still inside me, I felt a white-hot rage begin to grow.  At this moment, I felt no shame from what had just been done to me for this was not something that I had wanted or deserved.  I knew that one man had just branded and pierced me, and another had just brutally raped me; each was a monster and I knew that if I had a chance, I’d try my best to kill them both.  It didn’t matter what these men did to me, I’d beat them at their own game somehow and make them pay for what they were doing to me.

 

Bossman finally rolled off of Victoria and stood up.  Her flat stomach was slick with his sweat, and he rubbed and patted it in an almost possessive sort of way before he grabbed his clothes.  He looked down upon her bound body and shook his head.  Turning around, he went into the galley and she could hear him say something, but could not understand what he said.  It must have been funny because anticipatory laughter followed his announcement and she heard a lot of feet coming down the steps and into the cabin.

 

The remaining four men in the recruiting team now surrounded Vicki, and just looked down at her.  Her slender body was covered in sweat, and the insides of her thighs were streaked with thick rivulets of Bossman’s semen.  One small pool of cum was trapped with sweat on her stomach.  Most of his seed however, was either still trapped deep inside her belly or was slowly draining out of her vagina and into the crack of her ass.

 

While my rage gave me strength as I thought about what I would do to my rapist, with the sudden entrance of the other men, a primal fear suddenly threatened to overcome me, seeming to rise from my very blood and bone.  I tried to struggle on the bed, but my attempts were weak and the four men laughed at my feebleness.  They laughed and told me that the boss always went first with a new trainee and that that often ruined them for other men.  But by God, they were willing to make an attempt to match him with me this time.

 

All of the men quickly stripped down.  Elvis in particular was already hard and appeared impatient to get started; he was apparently was lucky number two.  His cock was coal black and while over 9 inches long, it was not nearly as thick as his leader’s.  He crawled between her legs and settled down on Vicki’s stomach, moving his hips to get comfortable.  Since her pussy was already wet, with one thrusting motion of his hips, he buried himself completely in her.  She gave a muffled involuntary scream as he too seemed to bang the top of her vagina.  When his women wore gags, Elvis didn’t like them making a lot of noise so he raised up on his elbows and gave her two quick back and forth slaps to the face.  This happened again and again.  Soon she lay quiet beneath him, stunned by his blows.  With his feet braced at the foot of the bed, each of his massive thrusts into her pussy drove her senseless body up towards the head of the bed, her ankle bindings forcing her knees together as her bindings became taut; her toes would involuntarily point together and her feet arch towards the wall away from the foot of the bed.  Every inch of her body was under his control.

 

The worst part was that the other men’s eyes never left my face or body.  They laughed with each spastic move of my tortured body; they mocked my cries and muffled screams, and hit me to make me be more quiet as I was raped.  They made bets on who could get the most action from me.  I was called “bitch” and “cunt” and “whore”, but most often they referred to me as their “slave”.  Except for actually raping me, watching me be gang rape seemed to be the high point of their day.  To them, this was a spectator sport.  The weight of my horrific new world settled in on my body.  I had no way to fight them, no way to keep my pride or dignity and my honor was now gone.

 

My rape continued all afternoon.  Each man took his turn; all eagerly partaking of my body.  Sometimes in addition to the rape, they’d use a cane to whip the insides of my thighs or belly or ribs, sometimes they’d hit me or slap me with their hands.  At first, while I still had the strength I tried to fight them physically by attempting to keep my body away from the worst of their abuse.  I tried to fight them mentally by pretending that I wasn’t actually there or that any woman could beat them, after all they were only five men.  I fought them emotionally by withdrawing deep within myself and not allowing my mind to feel the pain they were inflicting upon me.  By letting my body and mind shut down, I hoped to come through this horrible day without giving these animals the satisfaction of knowing how much they were hurting me.

 

But these last four, they were beyond anything an inexperienced teenager could ever know.  Obviously bored, or horny, or both, each of them took their time with her again and again and again.  Every man was well endowed; some were longer, some were thicker.  But all wanted multiple visits with Victoria.  The only one that didn’t come to her bed more than once was Bossman.  He just sat up on deck and lazed in the sun, listening all the while to what his crew had to say about their prize below.

 

By the time the sun was setting, the men were exhausted for the day.  I think I was in shock.  I know that I lay quietly crying on the bed with my legs still spread wide, still wearing my beautiful high heels.  I had tried, but at the end no longer had had the strength to fight them; my rage had fled after the second man and right now, I had my face turned into my shoulder and I was quietly crying with shame and humiliation.  My face was slightly swollen and there were light red welts on my stomach, tops and insides of my thighs, and over my ribs.  My jaw ached terribly from the large gag and drool was running down the side of my face from my mouth.  There was a large wet spot outlining my hips on the sheet beneath me, consisting equally of sweat and semen.  I was exhausted, but knew that if they would just let me get some rest, I would be able to fight them tomorrow.

 

I could hear the men on deck, each bragging about what they had done to me on different occasions.  That was the worst part; how could anyone enjoy hurting me like they had?  One I had named “Dog Nose” had made lewd comments about my breasts and new piercings, while another had talked about what he would get me to say when finally my gag came off.  One however, was particularly brutal and laughed about when he had made me scream; much more than the other’s, he seemed to enjoy my pain rather than the sex.  I heard this go on for over an hour, and the respite allowed me to get some energy back.

 

Bossman finally came downstairs and just looked at her.  Even though he had been the first to rape her, he hadn’t been as abusive as the others.  Without saying a word, he took the ointment and again rubbed it into each pierced breast. 

 

He looked at her and told her to stop crying and asked if she was thirsty.  She looked at him for a moment and then sniffling like a little girl, she nodded that she was.  Bossman told her, “Listen to me.  I’m going to take your gag off now so that you can drink some water through a straw.  I don’t want you saying a word to me unless it’s a yes or no answer to a direct question.  Do you understand?”

 

I nodded my understanding and Bossman reached down and released both of my ankles from the bed posts, causing incredible pain in my hips.  He next told me to rollover on my stomach, which I did slowly and with much pain.  I had difficulty in doing this because my legs didn’t work right and I kept getting one or both of my heels hooked in the sheet.  He gently straddled my body taking care to keep his weight off of me and unhooked my wrists from the top of the bed.  Unlocking the wrist cuffs from each other, he quickly rotated my arms down and into the small of my back where he again locked the cuffs together.  Next, he reached down and fumbled with the cheeks of my ass.  Suddenly, the incredible fullness and pain that I had been feeling all day in my asshole disappeared.  Finally, taking my shoulders Bossman helped me rollover and scootch to the edge of the bed.  The semen stained bedding beneath my body had begun to dry a little and it felt unpleasantly rough, yet sticky as I moved over it.

 

He looked at her carefully.  She sat straight up on the edge of the bed and looked at him with her breasts thrust forward and wrists still bound behind her back.  Her long blonde hair was a tangled, sticky, sweaty mess since one of her “recruiters” had cum in her face and hair, and what little remained of Vicki’s makeup was smeared around her eyes due to her tears.  Victoria’s knees were slightly spread, and she noticed him looking at the inside of her stained thighs.  A small amount of blood from tiny tears in her vagina was mixed with semen and sweat.  High heeled sandals still emphasized her perfect calves and as she sat erect with her arms bound behind her, her pierced breasts and swollen nipples reflected in the glow of the setting sun.  She looked like a bloody, yet unbowed goddess to him.

 

Bossman slowly unhooked the strap on the back of her neck that kept the ball in her mouth, and took the gag out.  She moved her jaw around a little and then sucked on the straw he offered, delivering gloriously chilled water to her parched throat. 

 

“Are you hungry”, he asked?

 

Like a small child, she gave him a tiny nod in return.  He got up and walked over to the other side of the cabin where he picked up some bland crackers.  Her eyes watched him move all the way there and back.  He offered her sips of water alternating with the crackers, and both tasted heavenly.

 

“Do you have to go to the bathroom,” he asked?  She nodded yes.

 

He helped me stand up and walk over to a previously un-noticed door in the cabin.  I was unstable on the heels that had been on my feet during the entire rape and I could barely walk, my legs felt like they were made out of lead.  I knew that I walked in a slightly bent over position, but I couldn’t help it.  The pain in my hips was due to my legs having been tied so far apart for so long and the unfamiliar cramps in my groin were a direct result of the excessive number of vaginal penetrations---the rapes to which I’d been subjected. 

 

The lips of my vagina were raw from the abuse that I’d been forced to take all afternoon; my ass ached and everything below my waist hurt with each step.  Bossman had to help me as I unsteadily moved across the room with my wrists still bound behind my back, my stride nothing like the way I had walked that last night on Cancun.  He opened the door and I could see that it was a bathroom, equipped with a surprisingly large curtainless shower stall.  He told me that there were two buckets for me to use, depending upon what my need was.  I looked at him for a second and he said, “Go on.  Do what you gotta’ do.”

 

I felt stupid, but even after being gang raped all afternoon, I still felt inhibited about peeing in front of another person.  I was unsure if he would give me any privacy, when he pushed me forward roughly and said, “Go in the bucket now or forget about it for the rest of the night.”

 

I slowly walked into the cramped bathroom and with my face burning with shame, squatted over the pail and let loose a torrent of urine.  When I was done, I felt a hundred percent better.  I had looked around while I was squatting, and in addition to the shower, I saw a small stained basin with a leaking tap.  Up on the wall was a small porthole through which I had seen nothing but water.  It was too small in any case, for me to try to crawl out of.

 

Bossman asked me “…if I had to shit” and I shook her head no.  I could not wipe myself and dreaded having him doing it.  But instead, he just hosed me down and wiped me off with a rough towel.  Then he grabbed my upper arm and led me back to the bed.  The still fresh memories of what had been done to me on this bed made me terrified to be going back, but I let him guide me there anyway---what choice did I have?  It seemed like I was walking in a dream, but my pussy felt like I was living in a nightmare.  We sat down again besides each other.  I looked at him and unconsciously licked my dry lips.  I couldn’t help myself as I blurted out, ”Please, I’ve got money.  Let me go, I promise not to tell any....ooof”.

 

The last sound was that of his stiffened fingers punching deeply into my solar plexus.  I gagged and slowly sagged over onto my side away from him.  Angrily, he grabbed the ball gag and roughly inserted it back into my mouth and tightly fastened it in back.

 

Without warning, he punched her in the stomach again.  Grabbing her ankles, he removed both of her sandals, and then stood up and grabbed her ass plug and a handful of her hair.  She was still handcuffed, so using the hair as a handle he dragged her across the cabin to the bathroom and threw her into the shower stall onto her stomach.  Reaching down, he grabbed the unclean butt plug and roughly inserted it back into Victoria’s ass again.

 

When she started to struggle weakly, he hit her one more time and then locked her ankles together.  Going back outside, he grabbed a training collar and piece of rope.  Bringing them into the shower, he fastened the collar around her neck; the collar was made of thick leather and wide enough that it almost immobilized her head.  He then tied the rope to a metal loop on the back of her collar.  From there, he ran it between her wrist cuffs and then between her ankles under her cuffs before returning it back towards her wrists.  While she was lying on her stomach, he pulled hard on the free end of the rope.  This movement pulled her head up and back and her ankles up and towards her head, leaving her body arched into a painful bow and immobilized.  He made sure that she could still breath before he tied the rope off on her wrist cuffs; all the while she lay crying into her gag and trying to look at him with pleading eyes. 

 

Bossman shook his head and with his voice filled with anger, he said, “You’re one stupid bitch!  You still don’t get it.  Your life has changed forever.  You are no longer mommy and daddy’s little college girl---you don’t belong in that world anymore.  I could kill you right now and no one would ever know.  Get it though you’re head that you ARE a slave now; you’re meat, a piece of ass that belongs to a man you’ve never met.”

 

He stopped and took a deep breath, finally cooling off before he continued, “When I tell you something, or one of my men tells you something, or ANY man tells you to do something, you sure as hell better do it from now on.  Do you finally begin to understand that you are nothing but property now?”

 

With that he disappeared for a second and then reappeared with her urine filled pail.  He looked at Vicki for a second and then threw the still warm contents of the bucket on her, locked the shower stall and walked away.  Vicki was left there all night.

 

Day Two: A False Submission

 

The next morning, Elvis reached the shower and looked in.  He wrinkled his nose and said, “Man, you guys come down and check this cunt out.  The bitch shit all over herself and she’s been laying in it all night.”

 

It was true.  Victoria, the clean wholesome all-American girl that everyone loved had had an uncontrollable bowel movement during the night.  She had fought it as long as she could, but stomach cramps had finally won out over personal hygiene.  It had forcefully driven out the plug that had been quickly inserted into her the night before and oozed out all over her legs and lower body; it was ground into the skin of her belly and hips and thighs.  She had been laying in it for hours and the smell of it was in her nostrils and her hair---she knew the smell would never come out of her skin.  Physically she was a mess and psychologically she was in shock.  Drinking coffee up on deck, Bossman knew this wasn’t bad for him at all.  Forcing any young innocent middle class girl to lie in her own excrement overnight was a huge mental blow, something that would shake her to her very foundation.

 

The other men came down and stuck their heads into her little world and left laughing and making dirty jokes.  It was the most shameful moment of her life, the most recent in the long line of humiliations that she had just undergone.

 

Elvis came in and untied the rope, took off the training collar and unlocked her ankle cuffs.  He made her stand up in the shower on legs that were unsteady, turning the water on and allowing it to sluice over her body washing away the nights’ filth, and leaving her much cleaner.  Elvis was more than willing to be helpful, running his hands all over Victoria’s body and his fingers into her various crevices and holes.

 

He then pushed me out of the shower, toweled me off roughly and led me toward the bed, telling me to sit down on the side of the bed.  He left and in a second Bossman walked down the stairs.  He looked at me and shook his head, all the while getting a cup of cold water and a straw.  “Ya’ think you can keep your mouth shut this time,” he asked?

 

Not being able to sleep during the night, I nodded wearily.  He sat down beside me and removed the gag.  I thankfully sipped the cold water that he offered and ate an apple that he held for me, along with a couple different kinds of vitamins and the supplement pills.  When I was done, he reinserted my gag and looked at me for a minute.  “Yesterday was the first day of your new life,” he said.  “Welcome to the second.”  He took out the antiseptic ointment and proceeded to gently rub it into my pierced breasts.

 

I had not slept for over 24 hours, but I knew that although exhausted and shaken by my night in the shower stall, I would fight today with a rage that would not allow me to back down.  When gang raped yesterday, the assault had been so sudden, so unexpected, and you have to face it I thought to myself, continued to be so BRUTAL for the rest of the day that I hadn’t been able to prepare myself mentally to fight them.  My body ached all over and my mind felt fuzzy from lack of sleep, but today my rage and my pride would not ALLOW me to be made into an object by these bastards.  No matter what they might do to me, I felt I was too valuable for them to seriously injure, let alone kill.  I would use this to beat them at their own game.

 

Bossman stood and went up on top; immediately the other four swarmed down the stairs.  Today, he thought to himself, she was to be initiated into the glory of anal sex.  She had an absolutely great ass and while he knew that he might desperately want to fuck her there himself, he was far too big for her as she was right now.  There were few women alive that could accept his engorged cock without a lot of preparation ahead of time.  He remembered a pretty Cuban girl that he had maimed during his inexperienced youth and knew now that he had to be careful.  It had been a pity what had happened to that girl just because of his naive stupidity and lust.

 

Laughing and now refreshed from yesterday’s Olympian exertions, the four men grabbed me and flipped me onto my stomach on the bed.  I tried to struggle, but was helpless against them and quickly found myself lying back upon the center of the bed.  There, they took a minute and put my sandals back on my feet.  I tried to kick the men holding my ankles, but they were too strong and were able to avoid my heels.  My wrists were released from the small of my back and my cuffs were locked together back over my head and attached to the bed.  With one man pulling on each ankle, I was then stretched out tightly and my ankle cuffs again locked to the bed posts.  I now laid helplessly spread eagled with my stomach and groin on top of the now cold and stiffly stained bedding; I kept looking up over my shoulder at my captors.  I tried not to show the bastards any fear.

 

Elvis laughed as he stripped.  He picked up a tube of lubricant and proceeded to rub it all over the tip and shaft of his extraordinarily long but narrow cock.  Climbing on top of Victoria he pushed her luscious cheeks apart baring the puckered brown hole that was his target and he said, ”Baby, you’re going to learn to like this.  I’ve ass fucked a million bitches like you and they all learned to love it in the end.  And that’s where you get it today baby, in the end!” 

 

Now knowing what he intended, I screamed my rage and frustration into my gag and did my best to keep my self safe by moving my hips back and forth and clenching my buttocks together with all of my might.  Elvis parted my cheeks with difficulty and keeping my asshole exposed with his left hand, he guided his stiff penis through the first muscle that protected my anus.  I bellowed my pain and rage, “GGGGNNNnnnooo” and immediately stiffened, clenching my buttocks and anal sphincter muscles, arching my back trying to rear up to remove myself from his attack. 

 

However, as the other men laughed and watched from the side, it was apparent to all that my attempts were useless as with one quick move of his hips, Elvis effortlessly sheathed his banana sized erection deep inside my body.  From a distance, I heard him saying, “That’s right, THIS is how you’re gonna learn to take it bitch.”  His first thrust brought an even stronger response from me as I inarticulately screamed, “KKKNNNOOOOOO!”  As every man there had known from the beginning, my clenched cheeks had been a hopeless defense after he’d lubricated himself.

 

God, I couldn’t help it---my body’s reaction was instantaneous.  At first when he had thrust into me, I had felt almost paralyzed and had been afraid to move for fear that I would further injure myself.  Later, as my anal muscles had stretched and finally began to be able to unwillingly accommodate his huge penis, I had been able to fight him more.  I had never before been violated like this, had never even dreamed of doing this with a man.  I howled and screamed in my agony into the wet rubber that filled my mouth.  With every stroke into my body I cried out and every time he pulled back out I gave an involuntary moan of relief, “Uuuuggghhnnnn”. 

 

There had been no small increments of movement in and out, no tentative thrust and retreat, no testing for pain and waiting for acceptance.  There were no soft offers of love with this, no concern for my pureness here for he dominated me in a most brutal and uncaring way.  I had been completely penetrated and totally possessed, all in one smooth move of his hips.  I was sure he had torn my flesh with his first thrust.  He took what he wanted and to hell with me.  I was his virginal bride and he owned me at this moment, body and soul.  He controlled my body, but more to the point for him, it was his way of letting me know that he owned the me that I tried to hide inside.  But with this, there was no place to hide.

 

The pain of this huge erection stretching my insides was incredible; my vision was swimming as this monster thrust into me using long, smooth full strokes.  He couldn’t see my face because my hair was covered me, but I don’t think he would have cared if he had; my mouth was open in a rictus of agony around my gag and my eyes were squeezed shut as I shrieked for mercy from him; there was no pleasure here for me.  The worst thing was the terrible fullness in my ass, stretching me and forcing my insides into positions that I was never meant to experience  Every nerve in my anus was on fire and I felt my anal sphincter spasm and convulse as it was both stretched and forced out of shape by the brutal invader’s unending and uncaring motions.

 

Elvis’s cock was buried in her tight, warm cave and upon complete penetration her anal muscles had clenched around the base of his penis and would not let go.  Then her sphincter began to release and contract on him in uncontrolled spasms.  She may not know what she’s doing, he thought, but damn, it sure felt good!  He knew that when he blew his load in her tight little ass, it would be a mind blowing orgasm.

 

Suddenly he thrust back into me viciously, adjusting his angle to push upward, stretching my rear in a new way.  My muffled wails went up a full octave as it felt like my flesh was being ripped within my body.  I almost blacked out, my throat felt raw and I was finally beyond screaming as only a ragged moan passed came out of my throat and snot ran out of my nose. As he pushed my face into the mattress, Elvis stopped for a few seconds and then thrust in again, changing angles to make sure that I received the most pain he could give me.

 

Her blonde hair flew as she thrashed beneath him and for every time he thrust into her, she matched him with a muffled scream of pain and an unsuccessful attempt to buck him off of her back.  When he pulled out, she gasped her relief in a pitiful way, but which struck no chords of sympathy with anyone watching.  He finally grabbed a long handful of hair, which he used as reins to pull her head up and back, gaining an additional measure of control over her.  Her bound feet made short pushing motions as she tried to push up and away from each thrust into her ass.  But these men were experienced in enjoying women in this situation and they had planned on her struggles; the way she was tied ensured that there was no way for her to get traction as she continued to writhe helplessly beneath him, accepting fully anything that he desired to do to her.  Much of the time that he rode her, Victoria made a high keening wail.  It was an eerie sound that carried out over the calm morning waters of the Caribbean. 

 

It seemed to him like it went on for days, when in reality the vicious ass-fucking of their new whore probably took less than ten minutes.  Finally, he knew he was ready to blow his load and he warned her, "You little ass fucked whore!  Get ready"!  He thrust in as far as he could and exploded; even as she was screaming, he filled her with wave after wave of scalding hot semen.  Everything he injected into her ass, he knew that she felt as a white hot burning feeling deep inside her abdomen.  She acted felt like he’d put his giant cock all the way up into her lungs and that its blunt end had torched her throat.  He knew that to an inexperienced bitch like this, it felt like the tip of his cock had a burning coal on it and that she was being branded on the inside of her intestines.

 

He finally lay still upon her, breathing heavily while his cock slowly shriveled to a more human size.  When it had shrunk to the point that it was not long enough to stay in her ass and had slipped out, he got off of her and without saying a word, motioned to the next lucky man.  She was to be passed around like a cheap sex toy.

 

Like yesterday, each man seemed not able to get enough of Vicki.  Each wanted seconds and some came back for thirds.  Even though she was gagged, every time that one of them thought she was getting too loud they would choke her with their hands or push her face into the mattress making it even more difficult to breath and muffling her cries completely.  When she made too much noise to satisfy Number Four, he put a loop of rope around her neck.  Even as he took her and made her scream, he took particular pleasure in choking her with it until she was almost unconscious.  In this way, he had double the pleasure---fucking her and physically brutalizing her at the same time.  Finally, she no longer had the strength or the will to scream anymore, but just cried, grunted and groaned as each assault occurred.

 

At the end, when the last man finally pulled his shorts on, her tormented asshole was ripped and bleeding.  She was hoarse from screaming, but little of the sound coming from the cabin of the boat had been loud enough to disturb the nearby seabirds.  The sodomites stood around for a last moment, looking at their prize.  Even bruised, bleeding and almost unconscious, she was still lovely.  But that didn’t matter to them now for they were temporarily satiated with her.  They were hungry after a long day of good exercise, and they all trooped out into the galley and started talking about making dinner, as if the battered female that they had left below did not even exist.

 

I felt like my anus could not completely close because of the assault that I had just undergone, and I could feel the semen that I knew must be mixed with my blood as it slowly drained out of my rear and intestines, mixing there with the sweat on the crack of my butt and inner thighs and then pooling onto the bed sheet.  My stomach and lower back were cramping; and because of how far my legs were tied apart, my hips felt paralyzed.  I did not want to move, could not move.  Everything hurt too badly, and a massive pain was centralized around the middle of my body; I just knew that I had been damaged for life. 

 

Just when I thought it could not get any worse, Bossman walked in and stood looking at me.  I laid spread eagled on my stomach, my eyes closed and tears soaking into the cotton sheet beneath me.  Because of my rape by him yesterday, I knew that I would not survive being sodomized by him.  However, after a moment, he sat down on the side of the bed, reached over and grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled lightly on my head, forcing me to look at him.  He said, “Listen to me closely girl, because your first lesson begins now.”

 

He shook her head to get her attention, “You need to learn the rules.  I can be your best friend or your worst enemy, your choice.  I can help you to learn or teach you helplessness.”

 

“Listen closely,” he demanded.  “You’re a slave now---understand that, believe it with all your heart.  We’re going to teach you everything you’ll need to know.  You’re a gorgeous young woman; excuse me,” he said with a small smile, “teenager.  You’re young enough to learn quickly, and smart enough to know what you have to do.”

 

“We’re on this boat to teach you what you need you to know to please a man.  If you’d just cooperate, all of this wouldn’t be necessary.  But, we’ll go into all of this in more detail once you’re ready to listen and learn.”

 

I wanted to scream, “After all I’d been through, after all they’d done to me, and these men still wanted me to cooperate with them?”  I shook my head.  I didn’t care anymore.  These people planned on taking away all that I loved.  After all that I’d been through, there was nothing more that he could do to me.  There was power in my despair, I felt like this man could not touch me, harm me.  They had taken too much yesterday and the day before.  I felt that they had nothing left with which to threaten me.

 

He thought to himself, a girl like you never cooperates with someone like me.  Letting these guys have you as much as they want is how I’m going to break you.  I don’t give a shit if you know that before we start bitch, because there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.  Sex and pain and a few drugs, taking away your sleep and food, that’s all I need to turn you from an average nineteen year old ball breaker that gets off on MTV, video’s and tormenting boys and into a tame and submissive, well trained slave to an important man.  You belong to me now, sweety pants.

 

“Say it now through your gag,” he said to her. “Say it out loud,” ‘I’m your slave’”.  She looked him in his eyes and didn’t make a sound, but shook her head no with a scared, yet determined look in her eyes.  He repeated himself, “say it out loud,” ‘I’m your slave.’”  She shook her head no; her eyes were brimming with tears and the look on her face this time was more of shock and fear than determination.  When he repeated his order a third time, she just turned her face away without responding and he could see her tears running down her cheeks.  Bossman looked at her with a little frustration, and decided it was time to go to the next level.

 

“Honey, you just don’t learn.  You’ve just been ass fucked today by some experts and I’m guessing it hurt you a lot.  Kinda’ tore you up inside, if you know what I mean.  You also know how big I am, and that none of the guys that rode you today can match my size.  You know this too.”

 

“I’m going to take you right now and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.  The only choice that YOU get to make is where you take it.  You can take it up your ass or in your pussy, your choice.  I’m going to untie your ankles and if you want it in the ass, you just lay there.  Of course, you know that if I ass fuck you right now, you probably won’t survive.  At that point, we weight you down and toss you overboard, grab your momma and that great looking aunt you’ve got and then they get to take your place.  Just think about them spreading for me and the crew right here on this bed.”

 

“Or you’ll cooperate: you can roll over onto your back, spread your legs, and I’ll fuck you in the pussy.  Your choice.”

 

With that, Bossman walked down to the end of the bed and released my ankle cuffs.  I lay there on my stomach for about thirty seconds as Bossman began taking off his clothes.  When he noticed that I hadn’t moved, he told me, “OK, in the ass, you made a good choice.”  With that comment, I groaned and scrambled to roll over onto my back.  At least I had a little freedom to move now.

 

They hadn’t taken me in the vagina today, but I was still quite sore from yesterday.  I tried to spread my legs a little, but the pain in my hips and vagina made me stop after I had moved my feet about eighteen inches apart.  I groaned and tried again.  It was no use, it hurt too much.

 

Bossman knew that by freeing her legs and then making her choose how she got fucked, he was forcing her into taking an important psychological step towards accepting her slavery.  It would be her first submissive step of many on this boat.

 

The big man was now kneeling on the mattress by her feet.  Grabbing an ankle in each hand, he pulled them apart and spread her wide.  Victoria cried out at the pain and tried to raise her hands to protect herself, forgetting that her wrists were still tied to the head of the bed.  He kneeled between her thighs and stroked his cock, finally bringing it to full attention after about a minute.  What with being gang raped and sodomized in the last thirty-six hours, she had somehow forgotten how massive he was. 

 

He looked at her for a moment like a lab specimen, and finally lowered himself onto her body.  As he had stroked his cock, it glistened with what must have been previously applied lubricant, because with one smooth movement of his hips he buried his huge rigid cock up to the nut sack in her.  Victoria cried out at the sudden violation as his penis again spread her dry lips wide apart, and it all came back to her in a rush as she felt him completely fill her vagina.  Again, it seemed more than she could take as he pulled out and slammed it back in again.

 

Keeping me impaled on his cock, he raised himself off of me and while looking down at my face, he told me to wrap my legs around him.  I shook my head and he said, “Then take it in the ass.  God, you’re a stupid bitch-slave.  You don’t get a choice; do what I say or take it in the ass!”

 

Scared, I tried to raise my legs and after a couple of attempts, finally had them wrapped around Bossman’s waist with my ankles crossed.  This seemed to satisfy him.  My hips ached with any movement of my legs, but I knew that that didn’t matter to him—his attitude towards me said that he always got what he wanted from his women.

 

She really was coming along very nicely, he thought.  He now possessed her completely, having made her choose how she was to be violated and then making her cooperate in her rape.  His body was slick with sweat allowing him to slide easily upon her belly and breasts.  It went on and on, he never stopping, she never responding unless complying with one of his orders.  The expression on her face was almost blank; only her dazed eyes changed, the pupils sometimes getting larger on some particularly deep vicious thrust he would make into her.  As she lay there beneath him passively looking up at the ceiling, her body was driven toward the head of the bed with each thrust that he made into her pelvis.  Each time he pulled out, it seemed like she was drawn back down toward the foot of the bed.  She was the moon and he was the earth, without her will her body rotated around every movement of his groin. 

 

It was as if I wasn’t in my body, but was above, looking down and watching everything that happened but without actually participating.  As before, when he did finally cum, it seemed like he spewed pints and quarts of semen inside me.  It burned like wildfire and seemed to invade every niche and cranny of my womb.  It jetted out of him with enough force that it squirted between the tightly stretched lips of my vagina and the base of his engorged penis, and then splashed on the inside of my thighs. 

 

I knew that I was inexperienced with men.  However, I remembered him raping me yesterday and his comments afterward.  While wildly sexual in both of his attacks on me, he was not as sadistically brutal to me like the others.  My mind kept going around and around in seemingly random patterns, my thoughts disjointed and fuzzy.  I remembered the way he’d hammered me for what seemed like hours yesterday and then seemed to cum and cum and cum inside me.  And now, he was doing it again after having rested less than a day.  He was not a young man, how was this possible?  Was this normal?

 

Having just fucked her brains out, Bossman was feeling more relaxed now and was ready to continue with Victoria’s education.  He liked fucking her—no, he loved fucking her.  But she still had to learn to obey him.  He usually did this kind of training himself, but for some reason didn’t want to do it to her this time.  So he left her lying there with her hands tied to the head of the bed, but with her legs free for the first time in almost two days and went up on top on deck.  There he gave orders to the two men that Victoria had come to call Elvis and Dog Nose.

 

There was a small stun gun that was kept on the shelf over her head; not the model shaped like a gun, but the one shaped like a rod and which was used for infighting.  Elvis pulled this out, and after putting the two electrodes to the hairline on the left side of her neck he mashed the trigger button, watching as her body arched up and spasmed.  After fifteen seconds he let off the button and her body slowly sank back to the bed as she lay there twitching uncontrollably, staring glassily at the ceiling.

 

Going over to the cupboard, he pulled out a roll of medical tape, a small box that had a slide on it like the controller on an electric train set, a small control board, two clamps, and a special dildo. 

 

She was still conscious, but stunned and unmoving when Elvis leaned over and took most of her left breast into his mouth and began sucking.  Her nipple was at the back of his throat and the bar piercing it rough on his tongue.  There was a strong salty taste associated with her nipple and within thirty seconds, it was erect and ready to be clamped.  Taking her breast out of his mouth, he noticed that when erect, her nipple stood up over half an inch.  Was there nothing about this slut that wasn’t special, he wondered to himself?

 

The nipple clamps used by Dog Nose had smooth jaws and strong springs.  They hurt a lot, he knew, since he’d tested them on himself.  After applying some conductive gel to prevent electrical burns, he attached a clamp to her hard pink button, and then went through the same procedure with her other nipple.  As the second clamp was applied, she jerked her chest away from him and to the side, so he knew she was beginning to regain a little motor control.

 

Number Three and Number Four then grabbed Victoria’s ankles and stretched her out, spreading her legs wide and locking her ankles to the bed; then with Elvis looking on, Dog Nose took the double pronged dildo and lubricated it.  Two small metal leads were located on its base and numerous metal contacts glistened on both shafts.  The piece going into her vagina was about eight inches long and two inches thick.  The probe to be inserted up her anus was about one inch in diameter and about six inches long.  He smeared both with conductive gel and was trying to insert both of them into her together, when she began weakly trying to fight him.  However, because both prongs were lubricated he had no problem finally inserting both pieces into Victoria up to the maximum possible depth.  Her eyes were closed and she was now taking heavy, deep breaths through her nose as he taped the base of the dildo in place, completing his initial preparations.

 

While Dog Nose was busy the dildo, Elvis had been attaching clamps to both of her big toes and her ears.

 

Dog Nose looked up at Victoria’s face from between her thighs and with a laugh said, “Bitch, this is going to hurt you a hell of a lot more than it does me.  Slaves always need a taste of the juice to really learn a lesson.”  He attached lead wires to each nipple clamp, to both contacts on the dildo and then to each toe and ear.  Running these to the control board, he attached them to eight of the more than twenty available receiver pegs.  The small variable output transformer was then attached to the control board and plugged into a wall receptacle at the side of Vicki’s prison bed. 

 

The transformer-like box varied the maximum amount of electricity offered to the generally unwilling recipient, while the control panel generated a random sequence controlling how much electricity was passed to the leads, which lead would receive the electricity and for what amount of time.

 

After taking a long look at her face, Dog Nose turned the transformer on to a maximum of about half strength.  The control panel did not pass any juice through at first.  Suddenly, electricity flowed into both prongs of the dildo and the teenager’s hips arched up and began frantically jerking.  She gave out muffled screams through her gag, “Mmmmfff”, Mmmmfffhh”, “Mmmmmfffhh” as her beautiful firm ass thrashed at least twelve inches off of the bed.  Finally, after about ten seconds, she gave out a soft, muffled groan and lay back down.  The electricity had fiercely traveled through the thin wall separating her vagina from her rectum, and each probe felt like it was both sending and receiving current at the same time.  The pain was intense, and her heart had been beating so hard that she had been afraid that it would explode.

 

Dog Nose continued watching Vicki and for over half a minute, there was no movement except for her heavy breathing when suddenly she began screaming and frantically throwing her chest from side to side; she must be getting it in both tits this time, he thought to himself.   Since he didn’t want to kill her during the night, he made a couple of changes on the control panel.  Now, she would get random shocks every 3-10 minutes.  Next, he turned down the voltage that would be passed on from the transformer.  The idea was to keep her guessing where the next set of shocks would occur and to wear her down physically by keeping her awake all night.  Again she started screaming and throwing her head from side to side, must be the ears he reasoned.  The next set of shocks hit Victoria seven minutes later in her left toe and right nipple.  Finally, she rode the electric train in her left nipple and anus; he noted that the results were satisfactory—they didn’t seem strong enough to burn her, but they were enough to help her better understand her new role in life; more importantly, they got her attention and would keep her awake all night long.

 

After watching her for about ten minutes more, Elvis and Dog Nose were satisfied that she would survive and they went upstairs to sleep on the deck under the stars and catch a nice evening breeze.  She was hit with the juice just as they turned and they heard her give out a long low “Unnnhnnnnnn”.  As they left, her groan faded into silence.

 

I lay on the bed below decks and writhed every time I was hit by a shock.  Sometimes, I would get shocked in my left nipple and anus.  Then five minutes later on my right nipple and vagina.  My nipples seemed to be on fire and I couldn’t predict what would be shocked or when.  Sometimes, I wouldn’t be shocked for over fifteen minutes and then it would hit my vagina or my poor torn ass just as I was falling asleep.  Sometimes the shock would last only two or three seconds in my toe or ear.  Other times, it seemed to go on forever, lasting fifteen or twenty seconds.  Some times the current was so strong that I felt like I could feel my skin burn; other times it was little stronger than a tingle.  There was no way to prepare for this and no matter how exhausted I might be, I was awake all night with my body either convulsing at being shocked or twitching as I waited to be shocked.  There was no clock in the cabin and no way to tell how long this went on.  The night seemed to last an eternity.

 

Day Three: The Prize Breaks

 

Bossman came down and checked her out early next morning.  She was a mess, sweating and twitching all over her body, her eyes were glazed and red, and her hair matted with perspiration as it lay upon the mattress.  She had now gone for about forty-eight hours without sleep, and was physically exhausted as well as in significant pain.  She was softening up very nicely, he thought to himself.  He turned the transformer off and even though her nipples were still in agony, she groaned softly in relief.  He first gently removed the nipple clamps and dildo, and her body seemed to melt into the sweaty, nasty smelly bedding as she could now finally relax.  Finally, he took of all of the remaining clamps.

 

There was a sour smell about Victoria and her pussy smelled like it belonged to the whore from hell.  Although providing sex to his crew for two days, she hadn’t really bathed in a couple of days and she did not now look nearly attractive as she had when first brought onboard the boat.  He knew from experience that it would get more difficult to motivate two of his crew as Vicki’s looks deteriorated and as they got used to having her body.  Of course, the other two guys got more turned on the more they could abuse her.  These were the guys he had to watch since he didn’t want them maiming her.  He called up top and told everyone to come on down and help him clean the place up.

 

Elvis and Dog Nose were the first down and they wrinkled their noses as the smell hit them.  They were ordered to take her into the shower to clean her up, so they released her ankles, took off her sandals and cuffed her wrists behind her back.  Victoria couldn’t walk by herself now, and her head hung down as they carried/dragged her into the bathroom along with the dildo, which now needed cleaning.  The remaining two men came down next and opened the portholes to let in fresh air before changing the bedding on Victoria’s prison bed. 

 

By the time I was brought back out, I could walk slowly without assistance and everything seemed a little better to me.  Even so, I now knew that I was beaten by Bossman and didn’t want to fight him anymore even had I been capable of resistance.  I had thought that there was nothing worse that they could do to me and I was wrong.  I was exhausted and I couldn’t put two consecutive thoughts together.  My pride had been killed half way through yesterday and my rage had died last night on the bed in front of me. 

 

Right now, my hair was wet from the shower and I smelled of soap.  I was ravenous with hunger and had a raging thirst.  But while my mind was still fuzzy from lack of sleep, it seemed that every part of my body hurt and was clamoring for attention.  I would somehow do whatever they wanted, as long as they stopped hurting me.  I just had to tell them that they had won, without making Bossman feel like he had to punish me anymore.

 

Bossman ordered her to sit on the edge of the bed.  He looked at her and asked, “Do you think you can sit there and not say a word this time if I take your gag off?  She quickly nodded her head yes. 

 

“If you fuck up this time, so help me God,” he said, “I will let these guys have you any way they want and then beat you half to death myself—is that clear?”  She nodded her head yes again.  “I don’t want to hurt you, but you are a slave and you WILL obey me.  Am I clear?”  Vic nodded yes.

 

Up until now, everything done to her had gone according to a fairly detailed plan.  She had no way then of knowing that the plan for today consisted of no plan; she was to be their toy and they could pretty do to her whatever they pleased.  They had used the money Bossman had given them and in addition to clothing, had also picked up a lot of new stuff in Cancun to try out on Victoria.  This was the day to which they had been looking forward to for over two weeks.

 

Bossman slowly took off her gag and offered her chilled Gatorade through a straw.  At the same time, he dried her hair and then began trying to brush out some of the tangles in it.  Although his hands were gentle as he did this, she couldn’t help herself when she would sometimes startle or flinch at his treatment, reacting like a wild deer when frightened.  He then put antiseptic cream on each breast and gently rubbed it around each hole piercing her nipples.  Finally, he told one of the men to put her sandals back on her feet.  This seemed to puzzle her; she didn’t realize that he still needed her to be desirable to his crew and every bit helped, he thought.  Elvis and Dog Nose each grabbed a shoe and kneeling down, began to put her sandals on with slow loving caresses of her legs and thighs.

 

After a moment, Bossman offered her a large raw potato to eat.  She thought it was crazy, but she wolfed it down and thought it was one of the best breakfasts she’d ever eaten.  Finally, she washed down the vitamins and the supplements that he gave her.

 

After she’d finished eating and taken her vitamins, he put Victoria’s gag back in her mouth without allowing her to say one word to him of the metamorphosis she had undergone the previous night.  He knew that she had wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to hear it.  She must be broken totally and completely---she must know in her soul that she had been broken---but that didn’t matter.  The next phase in completely breaking her down was too important for her to be allowed to give up now.  Before going back up stairs, he handed her off to Elvis without saying a word.  All of the men were looking forward to the “anything goes” time today.  They knew that they could do anything they wanted, as long as she wasn’t permanently injured or marked.   They all took pride in trying to outdo each other and graded each other on how much reaction each could get from their victims.

 

After I’d finished my breakfast, Bossman had made me stand up and had gagged me again without allowing me to speak.  This scared me because I now knew that he had won, and that I would have told him this if he had just let me say something.  I knew that I had completely misread the situation at first, and now only wanted to survive and go back to my mom and dad after they were done with me.  But I was afraid to make him angry by speaking without having permission to do so.  I’d been able to withstand the rape and somehow even being sodomized for a day.  But my anger and rage couldn’t help me fight the electricity and the clamps and the machine.  It seemed like the harder I had fought them, the more they enjoyed it.  There WERE so many things left that they could still take away.  It seemed now that they were prepared to kill me to break me, and only Bossman could stop them.

 

My wrists were still tied behind my back and I was wearing only my high heeled sandals and the ball gag.  My ears hurt and my jaw ached from having the large gag stretch my jaw muscles for so long, and my saliva was still building up and what I couldn’t swallow, drooled out of the side of my mouth.  My nipples were sore and inflamed from being pierced and clamped, and I had lost much of the feeling in my arms because of the way my wrists had been bound for the last two days.  Dog Nose suddenly grabbed my arm and began dragging me back to the bed.  I hadn’t noticed that Elvis was sitting on the edge of the bed, now naked and stroking his cock in order to get it up for me.  I saw his tool was ready for me and I began to shake my head NO, didn’t they know that they’d already won?

 

Dog Nose and Elvis had decided to start off today by team banging Victoria.  To get her attention, he added additional leather cuffs around her arms above the elbows and tightly locked them together, thus putting even more strain on her shoulders.  Dog Nose then roughly turned her around so that she was facing him when the remaining two guys came in on opposite sides and grabbed her; each man grabbed one of her arms and put his other hand on the back of her thigh.  When Elvis pushed Vicki back toward the bed, Number Three and Number Four caught her behind her thighs with their hands and raised her legs up, so that they held her in a seated position in the air.  As a further indignity, they pulled her knees apart so that she was exposed and totally helpless.  The guys slowly lowered her down upon Elvis’s lap as he parted her cheeks with his hands. 

 

Adrenaline hit me with a brief burst of energy and I tried to struggle, but there was no way to get traction with my feet in the air and it just didn’t do any good.  His long thin erection perfectly pinpointed my puckered asshole and as they lowered me, the weight of my own body ensured that I was completely impaled by him.  Elvis ignored my muffled protests, grabbing my hair and leaning back on pillows stacked on the bed, pulling me with him.  He had achieved complete possession of me, for during this whole movement I never once felt him leave my body. 

 

By this time, the two men holding her had changed their grips on her legs, now forcing Vicki’s knees into a locked position against her chest with her legs spread wide and feet pointing at the ceiling.  She was totally undefended in this position and it was now that Dog Nose climbed up on her and with one move of his hips, plunged his hot cock into her wide open and available pussy.  At the same time, Elvis let go of Vic’s hair and reached down to take a double handful of Vicki’s ass, both to make sure that she couldn’t hurt him with any movement she might make as well as to assert his dominance over her. 

 

I was sandwiched between the two men and both began deep stroking into my body, causing me to cry out with almost every thrust.  After a couple of minutes I stopped trying to fight and just lay there passively letting them take want they wanted, groaning only when I couldn’t help myself.  While these two men were buried deeply in me, the other two took delight in letting me know that I was learning how to ride the “double pommel” and laughing at the looks on my face.

 

I didn’t know how to process these feelings.  The flesh wall separating my vagina from my anal shaft had not been burned by the dildo last night, but was now exquisitely sensitive due to the electrical stimulation.  The men assaulting me now filled me with disgust, and yet when these creatures used their meat to fill both of my holes at the same time, somehow far away in my mind I was compelled to admit that these same sensations could also be wonderful if only I would allow myself to give in to them.  The thought shamed me and was gone quickly.

 

Now they changed their rhythm of penetration, alternating their strokes into me with one slamming in as the other was withdrawing.  They did this for a minute and then got back into sync again, causing that awful friction between my vagina and anus.  I was now totally passive, having quickly given up and truly yielded to them as both my energy and will power ran out together.  I was broken at this point, but they didn’t even know it.

 

Finally, it was time.  I knew this by the increasingly frantic grunts from both men.  Dog Nose signified his immanent release by increasing the violence of his lunges into my pussy.  He groaned and was the first to cum, filling me with the now familiar deep but quick blossom of heat that signified I had again been forced to accept his seed.  Even though breathing hard, he quickly dismounted, leaving only Elvis beneath me.

 

Elvis had a better range of penetration into me now that Dog Nose was gone.  He grabbed my tender breasts and pulled me hard back into him.  I cried out from pain, but lacked the energy to resist; I had no will to fight or to respond.   My eyes were closed and my face was covered by my long hair; my head flopped back and forth with each thrust into my ass.  My bound arms were numb behind my back and my legs were sprawled wide and draped outside his thighs, allowing him full access to my rear.  There was pain everywhere, but I didn’t particularly feel it because I was exhausted, so completely exhausted.  I didn’t notice that Dog Nose had now gone upstairs. 

 

When Elvis finally came, it didn’t seem to give him the release he sought since he continued holding her tightly to him.  With every spurt of scalding hot semen into her ass, he used her breasts as handles to pull her down onto his lap as if to gain some additional small but necessary penetration into her. 

 

He continued to pull on my breasts and watching as if from a distance, I knew I would have screamed from the pain if I could.  Finally, his need satisfied, he pushed me off of his lap with a snarl of disgust.  I stumbled and almost lost my balance, but was caught by one of the two remaining men. 

 

These men had always taken me last; their faces were a blur yesterday and the day before that, as they were now.  I couldn’t think straight anymore and my head felt like my mind was packed in fuzzy cotton.  I’d been up for almost fifty-two hours straight at this point and had been able to catch only five minute snatches of sleep here and there.  I was sometimes hallucinating and my body was telling me that it was shutting down; I would find my mind wandering, not remembering what had happened even five minutes before.  Sometimes I thought this might be a blessing and sometimes I thought I was losing my mind.

 

It was Number Three’s turn now and he thought he’d give it to Vicki while she was standing up this time.  He grabbed a thick piece of rope that he’d brought down with him and passed it through an unobtrusive set of pulleys that were located at the center of the cabin ceiling.  He then walked back to Victoria, grabbed her hair and marched her to the center of the cabin.  Her eyes had been closed, but they now looked at him without understanding.  The bitch is out of it, he thought to himself. 

 

He then took one free end of the rope and tied it to the lock which connected my wrist cuffs.  Going to the remaining free end of the rope, he took it to the wall where there was a hand crank.  After threading it into the crank, Number Three began turning the crank’s handle, forcing my arms up behind my back until they were almost parallel to the cabin floor.  Still being bound at the elbow and wrist, I forced my upper body forward and down to reduce the stress on my shoulders and lower back.  Looking down at the floor, I saw him kneel in front of me and lay a thick iron bar near my feet in order to attach it to my ankle cuffs.  First however, he rotated my ankle cuffs so that the ring on each was facing to the front towards my toes.  The bar had loops welded to each end, and when hooked to the cuffs, it forced my legs over three feet apart.  Looking up at me with a smile, he attached the bar to the front of the ankle cuffs.  Finally, he lowered the iron bar on to the upper part of each foot right over my arches; it was held there by the way it was locked to my ankles.  The bar weighed almost 17 pounds and with it hanging from my ankle cuffs, the arch of each of my feet now had over 8 pounds of iron resting on it.  Within seconds the weight of the bar began to feel like it was cutting my feet in half. 

 

Number Three walked around behind her and was gone, returning in seconds with a set of metal clamps that had quite wide lips.  He kneeled down and attached one clamp to each of her vaginal lips.  While the pinching pressure had to be intensely painful, it didn’t seem to be able to compete with the other areas of her body currently under stress, and consequently he couldn’t seem to get a reaction when he clamped her.  It was only when he hung one pound weights on each clamp that she began to buck and struggle in what he felt was a satisfactory manner.  Next he brought out two large wooden clamps with one inch wide flat jaws and which were used for gluing wood projects.  There were two handles on each clamp used to tighten the clamp, one on each jaw.  Number Three put the first clamp on Vicki’s left breast and clamped it down, smashing and squeezing her breast until it looked like she was having a ‘super’ mammogram.  The clamp weighed over three pounds and dragged down hard on her breast as she stood in her bent over position.  After applying the second clamp, he thought she might almost be ready.

 

He stood back and watched her for a couple of minutes and felt himself getting hard just watching her helplessness.  When she finally stopped her weak struggles, she just stood there with her knees shaking.  At this point, he couldn’t stand it anymore and he walked up behind, spread her ass cheeks and plunged his unlubricated cock up to the hilt into her ass in one brutal thrust. 

 

It was a measure of how much she had gone through and how tired she was, that there was little reaction to his anal penetration.  She made a small moaning noise deep in her throat with each deep, satisfying thrust that he made into her ass and a shudder went through her body when he finally shot his load into her.  Other than that, he thought, the bitch was almost catatonic.

 

After fifteen minutes, he’d had a chance to catch his breath and have a cigarette on deck, so he finally went back into her cabin, knelt down and removed the breast and vaginal clamps and the iron bar from her ankles.  Putting his left hand under her belly to hold her, he released the rope that pulled Victoria’s arms towards the ceiling.  As he did so, he could feel her body collapse onto his arm as the rope began to go slack.  Number Three let her fall to the floor where she lay as he cleaned and put away his toys.  Finally, he picked Victoria up and carried her to the bed where he laid her down and went out into the galley.

 

I had lain motionless on the bed for less than five minutes when Number Four slowly walked into the cabin.  He carried a piece of leather equipment in one hand and thin manila rope in the other.  He grabbed my left ankle and dragged me towards him—I didn’t resist him in any way.  When I was near the side of the bed, he untied my ball gag and took it out.  I had barely licked my dry lips when he proceeded to pull a full discipline leather helmet over my head.  A critical part of the helmet consisted of a built-in detachable penis gag that was two inches in diameter and long enough to go to the back of my throat.  The helmet was then snuggly pulled down over my head, covering my whole face except for my nostrils and the gag then forced into my mouth.  The piece of cold, black rubber was so large that it was difficult for me to get my mouth open wide enough to accept it.  But he continued pushing it into my mouth, and when it was finally in it filled my mouth completely.

 

His hands then went to the straps in back where he tightened the helmet; I could not see nor hear, and could not easily breath through the new gag—I was filled with dread and felt the first trickles of claustrophobia.  I was completely helpless and my imagination began to run wild.  He apparently grabbed the ring on the top of the helmet since I felt myself dragged me off of the bed and onto the floor, then dragged on my stomach a little more before finally stopping.  I gained more bruises than I should have because my wrists were still bound behind my back, but he didn’t care.

 

Grabbing a short piece of loose rope, Number Four wrapped it high around Victoria’s left thigh three times before tying it off; he then bent her knee and using his full weight against her weak struggles, finally pushed her left ankle tightly against the back of her thigh.  Running the free end of the rope through her ankle cuff, he pulled down on the rope, thus pinning the back of her heel to the back of her thigh.  Finally tying off the loose end back around her thigh, he quickly did the same to her right foot and Vicki found herself unable to move her feet in any way.

 

Number Four looked down at the stupid bitch lying helplessly on the floor at his feet and it pleased him.  He had some plans for her today and they didn’t involve playing patty cake.  She obviously wasn’t going anywhere so he walked over to a locker that was built into the wall and pulled out a thick piece of manila rope and looked at the pulley that was still connected to the cabin ceiling. 

 

Out of a small closet, he next pulled out a foldable saw horse that had a polished piece of ˝ inch wide blonde Norwegian pine connecting the two sets of legs.  Setting this up under the pulley and locking the legs in place, Number Four dragged Victoria by her helmet over to the “horse” and pulled her to her knees.  While standing at her back, he ran the rope under her right armpit and around her chest above her breasts before running it back under her left armpit from the front.  He tied the loose end to the rope at Vicki’s back, resulting in a fairly loose loop around her body with the free end in back.  Taking this free end, he threaded it through the pulley in the ceiling and then to the crank.  After attaching the rope to the drum of the crank, he started turning the crank.

 

I felt myself immediately lifted off of the floor and sway slightly as the boat rode on a flat sea, supported by the rope around my body.  Because of the way the rope was tied in back, my body naturally tilted to the front.  I felt a stop in the upward moving pressure of the rope for a moment and then I felt myself being lowered.  Very quickly I felt a thin piece of wood rising between the insides of my thighs as I continued to be lowered.  For a second I didn’t think much about this, but very soon it occurred to me that my whole body would be resting on this wood and this caused a quick panic attack.

 

Even though my legs were bound and helpless, I tried to squeeze my thighs together hard enough to grip the board.  I knew it was hopeless from the beginning but I had to try.  I began to sweat with the exertion and it seemed like only seconds before the wood slid between my sweat-greased thighs and I sensed a solid presence on the front of my pelvis that was centered between my legs.  Suddenly this hint of pressure became unbearable as my clitoris took the weight of my body and became pinned between the thin board and my pubic bone.  I threw my head back and screamed, but the black rubber filling my mouth prevented any sound from escaping the hood on my head. 

 

My body was shaking uncontrollably, and sweat was now pouring off of me as I tried to throw myself backwards to relieve the pressure on my clit, but because of the way I was tied, the front of my vagina was pinned on the board by my weight.  The more I rocked, the more it hurt and I was quickly learned to remain motionless as I began to ride the “horse”.  But it seemed that within minutes, the pain reached a crescendo, and then turned almost exquisite as the slightest move of my body brought new revelations from each nerve in my body. 

 

My mind wasn’t working at this point, I guess from lack of sleep.  All I know is that as I sat hunched over in the darkness of my hood, I had this almost insurmountable compulsion to rock on the thin board that I rode, almost like the urge you might have to suck on a tooth upon which a dentist has just worked.  It doesn’t make sense, and you know that it won’t help but you do it anyway.  All I knew was that there was this tiny, ruby red pin-point area of pain between my legs and suddenly I wanted to explore it.  God help me, I was in the worst pain of my life and I had an overpowering urge to investigate its limits.  I knew that I must be going absolutely insane.

 

Number Four watched Victoria closely as he lowered her upon the wooden horse.  The stupid bitch probably thought that they were on a date or something.  Bossman had told him that there were to be no permanent marks or serious injuries left on this blonde teenaged beauty.  He’d helped other ladies become familiar with his favorite ride before and none of them had ever been much the worse for wear—perhaps a little sore for a day or two at the most.  In fact, they often were much more ready to party after they’d had a taste of the wood.  Just like the others, this bitch had started bucking as soon as there’d been a little pressure from the wood on her pussy and he wondered how she’d handle half an hour or so of riding time.

 

I’d settled down now after a couple of minutes and while I wasn’t moving around like before, I was covered in sweat and quivering all over like a newborn foal.  Sometimes I would rock back and forth a little, before becoming motionless again.  I guess that he finally decided that it was time for the next couple of steps. 

 

Number Four took out a couple of special nipple clamps and clicked them to make sure that each was ready.  He knew that these wouldn’t frighten the bitch yet because she couldn’t hear anything with the hood on.  The clamps were spring loaded and had smooth jaws; but there was also a finger screw to reef the clamp down nice and tight when necessary. 

 

She jerked when her first nipple was clamped and then thrashed a little before freezing on the ‘horse’ again.  It was an overpoweringly erotic sight to him, her nipple clamped and breasts heaving, hands cuffed and head hooded, her knees spread to accept the horse while her feet were hogtied to her thighs.  Her only visible movement was the heaving of her breasts.  While the pain from having her nipple crushed may have been awful, he knew that it was as nothing compared to the pain that moving on the horse brought to her genitals.  When the second nipple clamp was applied, her body swayed only a small amount before assuming the original position again.  Good, he thought, the bitch was learning a little control.

 

When I felt the first clamp attached to my right nipple and then tightened, I had screamed and made an involuntary movement away from the intense pain.  This caused even more pain between my legs and my whole body shuddered as waves of agony emanated from my groin and spread throughout my body.   When the clamp was applied to my left nipple, somehow I controlled myself even though the massive currents of pain began anew in both my nipples and my vagina.

 

Finally, Number Four was ready to apply the coup de grace to his helpless date.  He grabbed one of the thin ropes he’d walked in with and tied it to the rope that went around Victoria’s chest.  He then began wrapping the rope tightly around her left breast forcing it out to a prominence that far exceeded what she might normally exhibit.  After four tight wraps around Vicki’s breast, he kept the tension up and tied the free end back to the rope around her chest.  Victoria’s breast immediately began to turn a dark red with the blood that was trapped in it.  Her nipple became even more engorged and erect and the overall effect was exactly what he wanted.  He quickly wrapped her right breast and tied it off as he had with the left.  He looked at Vicki as she now rode the ‘horse’ with her breasts bound and nipples clamped hard, her wrists bound behind her back and a hood depriving her of any sensory input.  That was just about that, he thought with satisfaction and walked away to get a drink of diet coke.  He figured a naive, inexperienced piece of ass like her would be medium rare and ready after thirty minutes or so, so he went up on deck to pass the time catching some rays.

 

My body was nothing but pain.  It consumed every nerve in my body and never seemed to end.  Eventually I couldn’t help myself and just began a slow, short rocking movement in an attempt to find some release from the pain.  Nothing worked.  I knew that yesterday I’d been kidding myself when I was ready to tell them that they had won, because deep inside my soul there was a small spot where I’d vowed to continue to fight.  But the sex and pain that they were inflicting today, combined with all that I had already gone through told me that they were just too strong for me; they’d just keep on going until they had won or I was dead.  Finally, I couldn’t help it---it became too much to even hold my head up and my head sagged down on my chest---in my mind, I had already totally surrendered to my captors.

 

Number Four went back into the cabin after forty-five minutes and found Victoria sitting motionlessly on her wooden ride.  Every ten or fifteen seconds, she’d take a deep convulsive breath through her nose and then go still again.  Her breasts actually seemed to throb as he looked at them and sweat was running off of her thighs in small rivers.  He untied the end of the rope which suspended her and pulled her up and over the horse and then lowered her to the ground.  Her knees hit first, but she just crumpled over on her side as more rope was let out. 

 

After first removing the loop of rope from under her arms, he carried Vicki over to the bed and laid her down upon it.  She lay quietly on her side as he released her ankles from their bonds to her thighs and roughly straightened out each of her legs; she screamed into her gag as each movement of her legs caused her obvious pain.  Next he took the hood off, but detached the gag and left it in her mouth. 

 

I had neither the strength nor will power to even try to dislodge it with my tongue.  While my eyes were tightly shut, tears were still streaming down my face.  I didn’t want to see what he had done to me.  My breasts were still bound and throbbed with each beat of my heart.  My legs were cramped from having been tied for so long and both my clitoris and vagina just ached from having supported my crushing weight on the board.  I finally was able to open my eyes for the first time and looking over my swollen, black breasts at him, I saw to my horror that his penis was huge. 

 

He saw me watching him and he looked at me for a second; finally he began stroking himself.  In the end, he couldn’t hold himself in anymore and he leaned over my body and shot his load of cum onto my face and breasts; I never reacted when it splattered on me.  It was awful, but better than being raped by him again.  He looked at me for a second and from his expression I knew that they thought they now had a slave that was ready to undergo serious training.

 

He looked at her after he removed her hood.  Her long blonde hair was sweaty and matted; it looked stringy and as if it hadn’t been washed in days.  She kept her eyes closed again; her face was deep red and covered in fine beads of sweat.  What was most amazing to him was that he thought she still looked pretty good.

 

After a moment, he went to work freeing her poor breasts.  She did not resist as he rolled her onto her back on top of her bound wrists.  Both breasts bulged straight into the air and were now completely engorged with trapped blood, being almost black in color.  Her nipples were standing hugely erect, and looked both inflamed and tender.  Her piercings were almost invisible in the swollen flesh of each breast, leaving only dimples on each side to show their locations.  First he removed the right nipple clamp and unwrapped her breast.  Immediately she started making a muffled wailing sound and her upper body began thrashing around, shaking her head back and forth with the intensity of the pain as the blood was again allowed to circulate. 

 

Now open, her eyes saw nothing as she moved to the sound of an internal music, a collage of pain that totally consumed her.  Number Four watched as the pain seemed to reach a crescendo and then decline as within minutes she writhed less, although she still moaned softly into her gag.  When he removed her left nipple clamp and unwrapped that breast, her body again rocked back and forth slowly in defiance of her will, repeating her dance again for Number Four’s pleasure.   He knew that he had most definitely won and that best of all, that she had lost.  This was all he wanted as he walked away.

 

I was laying on the bed with my eyes closed; his cum sticky and drying on my face and chest.  I was exhausted and didn’t care anymore what happened to me.  Bossman came down so quietly that I was not aware that he was even in the cabin looking at me.  He looked and saw that they had left me without a butt plug and that I still had the penis gag in my mouth.  As he walked back up on deck, heard him tell Number Four to put the plug and ball gag back in.  Other than that, he told them, they were free to continue.  For the next five hours, I was left to the tender care of the four men in his crew—they were very happy, but not so merciful.

 

I had learned to hate the gags.  It didn’t matter what shape or color or length or texture.  For some reason, the awful rubber piece in my rear didn’t seem to bother me psychologically as much as did the gags.  While the butt plug caused me discomfort and humiliation, for some reason, it didn’t represent to me the complete domination of me and my body as did the gag.  I had now learned that my screams of pain were not going to be heard by anyone, so there was no practical need for the gag.  But it seemed that they used it more against my mind. 

 

It seemed to keep inside of me all of the pain that they visited upon me---almost like they kept me stewing in my anguish---like I was a piece of meat in some giant, evil crock pot.  And as long as they kept the lid on, kept this part inside me by using a gag, that that would in the end give them confirmation of how successful they’d been with me.  I think that if I had been allowed to let out this anguish as I was being violated, while just as helpless, I would have somehow been ‘cleaner’ and felt less corrupted inside.  I know it was stupid and that my mind wasn’t working very well, but the whole situation would have been unimaginable to me less than a week ago.

 

At the end of a long day at around 4 PM when everybody had been up on deck just long enough to get a beer, Bossman told them to break out the new machine and get their ‘guest’ set up for an hours’ ride.  The men had talked about how to best tie her up in order to take advantage of the full range of motion.  They had finally decided to take a light steel bar that was about four feet long and had rings welded on each end and in the center.  They’d hook it under the heels of her sandals, and then bind her feet to the rings on the bar using the ankle cuffs.  Her elbow cuffs were to be taken off and then her wrists (still bound behind her back) were to be tied to the center of the bar.  The tighter the rope, the more it would force her to arch her hips and back in an attempt to relieve the pressure on her lower back and shoulders; given how tightly her arms were stretched in order to attach them to the bar, they knew she’d also be forced to spread her knees wide apart and keep them that way.  Finally, they would pull her to the foot of the bed and tie the iron bar to the bed frame.  No matter what they did to her then, her body would remain open and exposed where it was and not be pushed up towards the head of the bed.

 

The men went down into the cabin and tied Victoria as they had agreed, taking about ten minutes to complete everything.  With Victoria now helpless and immobilized in a totally vulnerable position, Dog Nose went out into the galley and pushed a low table back into the cabin.  The table was mounted on wheels that locked and had a small machine with a wheel on the side mounted in its center.  There was a long bar attached to the wheel and it protruded parallel to the deck a couple feet from the front of the machine.  With his back blocking her view, he proceeded to screw a thick, twelve inch long dildo on the end of the shaft and then he lubricated it.  Turning back to Vicki and carefully guiding the end of the rod to the entrance to Victoria’s vagina, he pushed the table almost to the foot of the bed, locked the wheels and turned the machine’s wheel once by hand.  This resulted in a back and forth motion with about an eight inch range; depending upon how the rod was attached to the wheel, this range could be significantly extended or reduced.

 

I looked awful; my hair was matted and tangled, and the bags under my eyes looked like blue bruises.  I couldn’t get my eyes to focus, I ached everywhere and my lower back and rear were killing me.  I had now been awake and abused for over 60 hours and was hallucinating on an almost regular basis; I really didn’t understand what was going on and I was slowly being driven insane. 

 

I certainly didn’t understand what they had planned next for me, at least not until Dog Nose carefully guided the extended rod as he finally pushed the table up against the foot of my bed, with the result that the dildo was now about nine inches inside me.  The pain and shock of entrance was horrific and I shook my head NO and tried to struggle, but the way they had me tied ensured that I stayed exactly where they wanted me. 

 

Watching my face, Elvis turned the machine on at appeared to be one of the lowest settings and the wheel began slowly turning.  With each complete rotation of the wheel, the rod plunged eight inches forward and then eight inches backwards in a smooth driving motion.  The forced vulnerability of my position at the foot of the bed ensured that I received the full travel of the dildo inside my pussy; on the withdrawal stroke, it always stopped just one inch short of exiting my body.  There was nothing that I could do, as I tried to struggle at first but finally wound up just lying there and accepting its robotic-like thrusts.  It was a smooth, slow in and out motion, but the size of the dildo used ensured that my vagina was always filled.  Every time it went into me, I felt pressure in both my ass and my vagina due to the now normal butt plug I had been forced to accept for so long.

 

The guys watched her take it from the ‘fuckbot’ for about ten minutes, her apparent lack of reaction disappointing them.  Elvis reached down and turned the speed up almost to maximum and got a much more satisfying response from her.  Each time the rod reached its maximum penetration of her vagina, her body was slammed toward the head of the bed and her breasts would jiggle seductively. 

 

After a few minutes of this higher speed, my pussy was so sore that it felt like I was being fucked by a dildo wrapped in sand paper.  I began trying to throw myself around to get off of the rod, but with the way I was tied I couldn’t avoid any of the plunges of the dildo.  It just kept fucking me and fucking me. 

 

After testing the machine at high speed and getting the reaction they wanted from her, the men had finally become bored and had left after turning it down only a little, so now it was just her and the machine that was pounding into her.

 

My whole world was centered on my pussy and the rubber penis that was violating me.  There was no reason for this, for it was torture, pure and simple.  I knew that they must be doing this to punish me, to hurt me, but I didn’t know what I could have done to deserve this.  Finally, I just laid there crying softly as the awful machine just kept on and on and on.  I just wanted it all to stop.  Please, I begged silently, just let it stop.

 

Finally after what seemed hours but must have been less than half of that, Dog Nose and Elvis walked back in and looked down on me.  After watching my anguished face in silence for a couple of minutes, Dog Nose walked to the machine and turned it off.  Coincidentally, it stopped while the dildo was full penetrating me.  Silence filled the air as I laid there taking deep breaths through my nose.  Although closed, my eyes were dry since I was long cried out.  Elvis now unlocked the cart wheels and moved the cart away from the bed, removing from my insides the blunt spear that had been methodically and mechanically raping me.

 

The two men untied the bar from the foot of the bed and then rolling me on my side like a piece of meat, untied my wrists from the bar.  As I slowly and painfully attempted to straighten my body out, the two men finished untying my feet from the metal bar and straightened out my legs.

 

I felt like I was a hundred years old.  I ached and hurt all over, but most of the recent pain centered in my groin.  The lips of my vagina had been bruised and were now chafed raw from the unending caress of my machine lover.  I lay there on the bed with no thoughts in my head.  My mind was a blank and nothing could have made me move, not even the threat of death.  But I didn’t have to move on my own, since I was carried by the members of my ‘Recruiting Team’.

 

The crew had decided that the final treatment of the day for Vic was for her to be the main participant in an obscure Japanese rope torture.  It was a complicated position in which multiple wraps of rope were passed by Number Four around Victoria’s upper body immediately above her breasts, the last two wraps going over her biceps rather than under.  Another set of ropes were passed around her chest immediately below her breasts, and a third set around her abdomen.  These all met in a large knot on her left side under her arm and towards her back.  After laying her on her right side, a long wooden bar was passed by Elvis through the knot on these ropes and then under her left arm and on top of her right leg, at which point the inside of her left elbow was tied to the bar. Unresisting, her left leg was then lifted up over the bar and her ankles tied together so that the bar was now between her legs. 

 

Finally, more ropes were tied around her left leg just above the knee and they were tied to the bar.  Victoria’s wrists and ankles were now bound together and her body was attached to the bar at only two points, inside left elbow and inside left knee. 

 

I looked around rather stupidly because of the lack of sleep and thought that these guys had screwed up because all this did was immobilize me on the bed where I could finally get some sleep.  For some reason, I almost pointed this out the them, but I stopped myself somehow.  It was at that point that the two men lifted the bar and carried it over to a corner where special slots waited to receive each end of the long wooden shaft.

 

All of my weight was now hanging from my elbow and knee joints, with only minor support coming from the wraps around my chest.  My body was arched uncontrollably away from the bar as gravity tugged on me, while the back of my head was thrown against the wood in an involuntary muscle spasm.  Immediately, it felt like the joints in my elbow and knee were being dislocated or torn apart.  Although physically exhausted, I was almost immediately making mewling noises and puffing air in and out of my nose as if I were a distance runner.

 

Number Four leaned forward and watched me with wide eyes.  One of the other men, I’m not sure but I think it was Number Three said, “Keep screaming.  It turns me on.”  They laughed, but all continued to watch me expectantly, knowing the pain I was in and wondering how I would accommodate it.

 

Even though my legs were spread wide exposing my vagina to anything the men might desire, there was nothing sexual in this, their last act for the night.  It was like the ‘fuckbot’, pure torture designed to break completely any remaining fire of resistance.  And it worked.  I had nothing left to give, nothing left with which to fight.  Whatever they wanted, I would willingly give if only they would stop hurting me.  I would be what they wanted, I would say what they asked, and I would act as they desired no matter what that might mean.

 

I spent over an hour on the bar before they came back and removed me from its caress.   I had silently cried the whole time, even though I was certain that I had cried my final tears two nights ago and then again last night.  They lifted the bar and carried me roughly to the bed, not worrying about whether they jarred me or not.  As I was lowered onto the bed and it finally began supporting my weight, my shoulder and elbow and hip and knee somehow began to hurt even more than before.  I began a rocking motion reminiscent of an autistic child in an attempt to reduce the pain and find a position of comfort in which to lie, but this angered Dog Nose and Elvis as it got in the way of their attempts to remove the ropes.  Dog Nose slapped my face and breasts hard and told me to lie still.

 

I was laid on my side on the bed and my wrist cuffs unlocked so that my arms were allowed free movement.  Although both shoulders felt dislocated and my arms numb from the position they had been kept in for days, there were also fiercely burning points of pain centered on my left shoulder and elbow.  My knee throbbed and I thought I might have some cartilage damage.  My groin and crotch ached, but there was a curious numbness there as if my mind knew what had been done to me over the last few days and by blocking memories, it was trying to salvage my sanity.  Finally, Elvis left me alone after locking my left wrist to the head of the bed.  I hated my gag and could have removed it and the butt plug at any time, but I was too tired and I hurt too much, and I knew there was now no reason to do so---they had won.  And I fell into a deep sleep.

 

It was dusk when I awoke with Bossman sitting on the edgy of my bed, slowly rubbing my shoulders and upper arms.  He’d unlocked my left wrist from the bed, and while his light touch was still painful, it did help relax me a little; I felt grateful to him for even the smallest kindness.  Seeing that I was awake, he reached around and released the straps of my gag, taking the large red ball out of my mouth.  I swallowed to get rid of the accumulation of stale tasting saliva in my mouth and then licked my dry lips.

 

“M, would you like some water”, he asked?  When she nodded yes, he helped her over to the side of the bed and she unsteadily sat up.  Bossman reached over and picked up a sweating glass of chilled water and put the straw in her mouth.  Her face showed immense pleasure as the delightfully cold liquid quenched her thirst and he could tell that she immediately felt better.  He looked at her intensely.  Finally, he asked her if she wanted this to go on.

 

“God, please, no more,” I replied; my eyes pleading with him to save me from anymore pain.  I was still groggy, but knew the answer to this question immediately.  I wanted to cooperate in order to stop the pain---I needed to cooperate to please them.

 

He continued rubbing her, now gently working on her aching left knee and elbow.  “Slave, do you finally begin to understand what I’ve been saying to you?  We can do anything we want to you, and it will not stop until you tell me what I want to hear.  Now tell me, what are you?”

 

I blushed as I turned my head away.  I had to lick my lips again before I could answer him.  I felt like I was somewhere near the ceiling looking down on my body as it acted without my control.  Suddenly I knew that there was only one thing of which I must be sure before I could begin my new life. 

 

My eyes teared up as I weakly asked him, “What about my family?  If you promise to leave them alone…….I’ll do whatever you ask.”

 

He exhaled deeply as he sat back on the edge of the bed.  He looked at her for over a minute without saying a word.  His mind was racing, thinking of her impudence and insolence.  At the same time, he was also going over the possibilities that this opened, the physical and psychological leverage that this request might give him with her.

 

With his face impassive, he finally nodded his head and said, “You have my promise.”  While he had no plans of doing anything to her family, his promise meant nothing to him other than opening another avenue for her manipulation.  He’d say anything to get more power over her.  Soon, very soon, she’d learn what her new life was about and that trying to make bargains with him for her body was like making a deal with the devil.

 

“Now,” he demanded again, “tell me, what are you?”

 

Finally, in an inaudible voice, I whispered, “I’m a slave.”

 

He grabbed a roll of muscle on the inside of her thigh and squeezed hard.  “Louder, I couldn’t hear you!”

 

“I’m a slave,” I responded a little louder.

 

“LOUDER, I STILL CAN’T HEAR YOU,” he shouted!  He now had stopped rubbing and was instead glaring at her.

 

Finally, in a loud, ringing voice I almost shouted, “I’m a slave!”  And then again almost in a whisper, “I’m a slave.”  My face was flushed red with shame and I would not look him in the eyes.  This time, I had replied loud enough that the men on top could hear me.  I could hear them all snicker---they knew that they had won and that the hard part was now over.

 

Looking at her without expression, he asked, “Who do you belong to?”

 

Shocked, I looked at him before stammering, “You, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, you guess right.  So what does that make you,” he asked softly?

 

I looked at him and as I tried to blink away my tears, I replied softly, “I’m YOUR slave.”  He nodded his head and after a moment, Bossman stood up and grabbed my left wrist and cuffed it to the head of the bed.

 

He looked at her for a second and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a one inch wide strap of soft leather with a buckle on one end.  Taking this in both hands, he put it around Vicki’s neck and fastened it in back saying, “All of my chattel wear collars.  Keep this collar on except when bathing or when you have permission to take it off.  Understand?”  She wearily nodded yes.

 

He looked at her for a long minute without saying a word.  Then, “I know you’re hungry and thirsty.   But right now, I want you to get some sleep.  Tomorrow we start your training—you’ll get some food and water then, depending upon how you behave.”

 

“We’ll also see what your attitude is tomorrow when you’ve been able to sleep a little.  I’m letting you know now slave; if you change your mind and want to fight us again tomorrow after you’ve had some sleep, I’ll do things to you that I wouldn’t do to a dog.  I don’t want to do these things to you, but I will.  I don’t want your independence; I want your obedience, your complete submission.  And I’ll have it no matter how long it takes.  You are property and you belong to me now.”

 

He took a couple of minutes and rubbed more ointment into my piercings in silence, but as he was about to leave, he asked one final question.  “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”  I hadn’t had very much to drink or eat over the last three days and so nodded no.  I also remembered what had happened last time I had to go to the bathroom. 

 

Bossman countered her nod with, “You will address me as Master.  Always.  Now say it!”

 

“No Master,’ I answered him, “I don’t have to go to the bathroom.”

 

He nodded to her and had her lay back down on the bed.  After locking her left wrist to the head of the bed again, he then left without another word.  After staring at the ceiling for less than ninety seconds, Victoria fell into a deep and sound sleep.

 

Day Four: The Prize Capitulates

 

There was brilliant sunshine coming through the portholes when I awoke with a gasp early the next morning.  I was awake immediately and felt rested and relaxed and at peace, as if I had slept for twenty-four hours, at the same time I was desperately hungry and thirsty.   The mattress felt soft beneath me and the bedding like silk on my skin.  I was just beginning to stretch the kinks out of my arms and legs when I found my left wrist immobilized. 

 

I suddenly remembered where I was and why I was on this boat.  My eyes swam with tears and I pulled the sheet up around my chest with my right hand as if to hide from reality.  The warm sunlight went away as I remembered what had been done to me over the last three days.  I lay there trying not to make any noise as I silently cried at the horrific memory.  If HE was right, I would never see them again, my family and my friends.  My family must be going crazy wondering what had happened to me.  And my friends were now at school, beginning a new phase of their lives while I was being forced to endure the most painful and humiliating sex and sadistic torture.  The worst part, the absolute part that I regretted the most was that I had finally given in to HIM!  I was so angry with myself that I had surrendered and that he felt that he owned me now.  I felt a rage begin to build in me; I wanted to die embarrassment, but first I wanted to take them all with me.

 

Finally, my new reality began to set in and as I recovered from my feelings of self-pity; I began to inventory my aches and pains as I lay in the bed.  My shoulders were stiff and a little sore, but felt surprisingly better than I would have thought just twelve hours ago.  My hips ached in the same way, but were causing me more discomfort than my shoulders.  The piercings around both nipples were a little red and warm to touch, and they throbbed with each beat of my heart.  They must be a little infected, I thought.  My breasts still showed red marks where they’d been bound and they were a little tender.  My vagina was quite sore, but that was to be expected given how much sex I had been forced to endure; I was ‘saddle sore’ they had all laughed yesterday, but I would soon “….get used to being ridden by them.” 

 

My rear end only ached a little until I tried to move, and then God, it hurt a lot more.  I couldn’t believe that I’d actually fallen asleep with that terrible thing stuck inside me.  The bruises and welts on my rear, stomach, back and thighs didn’t bother me at all.  My left elbow and knee joints were very tender, but seemed to be working okay.  All in all, knowing what had been done to me, I felt lucky to feel as good as I did—it could have been a lot worse.

 

I must have laid in bed for an hour, trying not to move or make a sound.  I was caught up in my own thoughts, filled with profound sense of self-pity that was accompanied by sadness and fear.  It was true, I might be naďve and a romantic, but I also had a strong streak of pragmatism.  I would do whatever I had to do to survive even if it was horrible---and as long as my family was safe.  My hand went up to my collar by itself; for the first time I noticed that there was a small pendent hanging from my collar.  I couldn’t actually believe that I was beginning to dwell on what it would be like to be someone’s chattel.  Never to see my parents again.  Never to see my friends again.  I couldn’t conceive of this happening in today’s world, but here I was, actually living it.  Suddenly, I noticed that Bossman had come in from the galley and I pulled the sheet up around my neck.  He had moved so silently that only the smell from the cup of coffee he held gave him away.

 

Once he knew that she was aware of him, he moved a chair next to her bed and sat down.  Silently, he offered the coffee to her and she accepted with her free right hand.  He watched as she silently sipped from the cup, and then asked in a low voice, “How do you feel today, my slave?” 

 

I hesitated at what he had called me.  So far, I hadn’t had any control over what had happened to me, but this, this was up to me.  For the first time I would be truly acknowledging my future with him, agreeing with him that he had a right to control my every move and thought.  Finally, I realized that I couldn’t delay any longer. 

 

“OK, I guess,” was my terse reply. 

 

He looked at her sharply for a second, his dark eyes gleaming and then he continued, “We need to talk.  Last night you told me that you wouldn’t fight anymore; you said that we had ‘won’.  Well, now that you’ve had a chance to get some rest, I need to know if you feel the same way now.  Do you?”

 

I licked my lips for a second, but I couldn’t look at him.  I knew that this moment decided my fate forever.  Finally, I briefly nodded my head yes.

 

“I need to hear you say it,” he replied.  “Say that you belong to me.”

 

I looked at him for a minute and then I looked out of the closest porthole.  The ocean seemed to hold a perfect crystal stillness.  No birdsongs, no chirp of insects.  Even the wind had subsided as if waiting for my answer.  It was the calm before the storm. 

 

Finally, I said almost in a whisper, “I belong to you.”

 

“I didn’t hear you, say it again---louder”

 

I blushed fiery red and after a second I said in a more normal tone, “I belong to you.”

 

“That’s better,” he responded.  “Now, what are you?”

 

“Please,” I begged, “don’t make me say it.”

 

“Girl, the last three days have been hell for you.”  He stopped for a second and continued, “I take that back.  After what we’ve done to you, you’re not a girl anymore, you’re a woman.”

 

“If you want to change your mind now, fair enough, go ahead.  But do it now.  If you tell me what you think I want to hear and then try to do something stupid later, like escape, you’ll wish you’d died.  Either you broke last night or you didn’t.  If you didn’t, you got an extra night’s sleep for free.  But you’d better know that you’ll go back on the horse for at least six hours next time, and you’ll wear the electric jewelry and inserts for a lot longer, along with all the other extra added benefits that we’ve thrown your way.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you unnecessarily; but you will obey me.  Bottom line, either you tell me what you are, or we get busy again.  Your choice and you make it now.  What are you?”

 

Finally, I looked down at the sheet that covered my nude body, “I’m a slave and I belong to you.”

 

“Say it again,” he commanded, “louder!”

 

“I’m a slave and I belong to you.”

 

“Good, he replied.  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

I suddenly realized that in this moment in which I had just renounced all that I had ever been taught, that I had also just undergone a strange spiritual division of self.  At the same time, I suddenly realized that I felt odd right now, like my mind was on the verge of some great discovery.  God, my mind felt so….loose.  It was so hard to describe, it was like my mind was an unmoored raft, just drifting from one thought or feeling to another.

 

I suddenly realized that for many of the girls that must have gone helplessly before me like this, it would have been a throwing away of their ideals, a hopeless surrender to the brutalizing spirit of these men.  But it could not be so for me, for I would do my best to embrace it in a way that still allowed me to fight; I instinctively knew that was the only way that I could survive.  I’d do what he wanted and say what he wanted; I would deliver to him everything he wanted---everything except the true me inside that one like him could never touch.

 

This was not a woman that was used to dissembling.  Bossman looked at her for minute and knew from her face, knew from looking in her eyes that she still didn’t get it.  She may now know what she is in her mind, but obviously not in her heart; and she still didn’t get it in her gut.  She’d heard him talking about her new life, but still didn’t understand what it really meant to her.  This was one that would give him everything he wanted and still try to play games.  He reached over and unlocked her left wrist, then forced her over to the side of the bed.  She sat up slowly and still kept the sheet pulled to her chest in some sort of imagined modesty. 

 

“Look at me”, he demanded.  She looked but didn’t say anything.  Suddenly, he reached down and though the light sheet still covering her breasts, he was able to grab her left nipple between his left thumb and forefinger.  He pinched down hard on her nipple and twisted at the same moment, using the bar that had been driven through her nipple to make her feel unprecedented pain with this simple move.  Then pulled her off of the bed with his two fingers and onto floor where she stood with her eyes bulging in pain and her mouth open in shock. 

 

His eyes blazing, “YOU…ARE…A…SLAVE,” he said slowly and quietly, emphasizing each word with a painful twist of his hand, “what do you call me and how do you hold yourself in the presence of your Master?”

 

I stuttered for a second and then found myself, “You are my Master”.  I then forced myself to lower my eyes and spread my legs, and even though it was torture with his hand so rough on me, I clasped my hands behind my back and stood silently waiting. 

 

Bossman continued to pinch and twist her nipple for another thirty seconds as a lesson and then let go, allowing the sheet to fall to the floor. 

 

“Your position is awful,” he said.  “In a submissive stance, you clasp your hands behind your in the small of your back and push your chest forward and shoulders back.  You will spread your legs shoulder width apart---FURTHER!  You will not look at the man; instead you’ll look down at your feet.  You’ll only look at him when he is addressing you or if he’s given you permission to speak.  Assume this posture now.”

 

I looked down at my feet as I blinked back tears of pain and mortification and said, “Yes Master”.  I did not understand how he could change so quickly, being so kind one minute and so brutal the next.  I stood in front of him and assumed as close to a submissive position as I could.  I hated myself for being so weak even as I did everything he asked me to do to the best of my ability.  Bossman reached out and pulled my shoulders back and lowered my head a little more and then grunted in satisfaction.

 

Bossman waited in silence for a couple of minutes before continuing.  “As you finally begin to realize, you are a slave and YOU BELONG TO ME.  This life is new to you, but you will act accordingly.  You will learn to do as you’re told.  Right now, you’re like a willful child, but you will soon learn discipline.  If you always do what you’re told, once your training is complete your punishments will become minimal.” 

 

This was a soothing lie meant to make it easier for her to cooperate with him as he took from her the untamed freedom that she had previously enjoyed and which was so precious to her, and replaced it with a new life of being controlled in every movement that she might make.  He’d laid out her training and he knew that her punishments would have nothing to do with the penalties for being a less than perfect slave.  The emotional and physical and psychological pain that his crew would bring her would never stop as long as she was in their possession and would only escalate with time, no matter how obedient she might be.  She would be continually broken down further and further to ever lower levels of existence.  And even when fully trained, he knew that as long as her body and looks held out, she would always be served up pain and anguish by her Masters in dishes both hot and cold.  This was her fate, to bring pleasure to others by learning to accept their pain.

 

He continued, “As I told you two days ago, there are some important rules that you must follow exactly, AT ALL TIMES.  Do you understand me?  Save yourself some pain now and tell me if you don’t understand.”

 

“Master, what do you mean my punishments will be minimal?”

 

Bossman thought for a minute, “You are now property that belongs to a man, me right now.  In the new life you begin, your main purpose will be to give pleasure with your body.  Always before, you’ve been allowed to act as if you were equal to all others, but that has now changed even if you truly don’t yet understand this yet.”

 

“You’re untamed, not yet fit to be allowed among those better than you.  You will become familiar with pain here as a tool of your training.  Ultimately, once fully trained you will be delivered to your new Master; he in turn may decide to give you for a time as a toy to other Masters and Mistresses.  The men and women with whom you will be taught to submit vary in temperament like everyone else in this world.  Some will derive pleasure from giving you pleasure.  Savor these moments.  These are the experiences that will comfort you as you look back upon them while crying in the beds of the darker Masters.”

 

“Other Masters will have a more, shall we say, severe way of enjoying your considerable charms.  They will need to make you familiar with their pain in order to gain pleasure from your body.  To help you better please them, you will be taught to appreciate the finer arts of bondage and sadomasochism.  And your body will be trained through practice and discipline to not only endure, but eventually enjoy everything you may experience.  I know that you don’t believe me now, but it doesn’t matter, for this will happen.  In these things, you have no choice.  You’ll eventually understand this with both your heart and your soul.  ””

 

“These Masters will bring you pleasure and they will bring you pain to fulfill their needs.  It’s only by embracing the pain we bring you, learning to not only endure, but to look forward to it, that you will be able to survive it.  And if nothing else, you are a survivor.  So, in answer to your question, we’re going to teach you how to bring pleasure to whomever you have been given to and to appreciate the beauty of the pain they may give you in return.  Do you understand now?”

 

“Master, I understand,” I replied to him.  I really didn’t understand, but I knew that I needed to understand eventually, even if just to survive.  I think he’d just said something like they would beat me in order to make me like being beaten---this didn’t make sense.  But I somehow knew that he would explain everything to me in a way that I could understand---and God help me, I knew that I would do my best to please him.  At the same time, I also knew that there would always be something inside me that would never give up all control to these men.

 

“Excellent.  Your new Master honored you by picking you out of a large group to serve him and you’ll be the perfect companion and slave for him when we’re done. 

 

Bossman slowly shook his head from side to side, “Your attitude will be corrected.  In the beginning, we’ll be working on your attitude.  You demeanor may be submissive, but you have not yet been convinced of the rightness to your life that giving total control to another will bring.”

 

He looked at her sharply to see how she took this next part.  “When we’re finished with you, when you have the correct attitude, it will allow you….  No, it will drive you, it will compel you to develop the expertise that your new life demands.  You see, that’s the best part of this, the human mind that is.  Once you have the right attitude, you’ll WANT to do the rest and at that point, all you’ll need from us is guidance in the physical and the psychological aspects.”

 

“With our assistance, you’ll develop a consummate expertise in numerous sexual positions and a range of abilities in both sadomasochism and bondage.  You’ll be taught how to use every part of your body and mind to give pleasure.”

 

“More importantly, I now give you your only warning.  Your indoctrination period has ended and you now enter your training phase.  Be aware that you will also be punished for all infractions, beginning now.  Punishments will vary according to the offense, but will range from light whipping of your back, ass, back of your thighs and genitals to rope torture.  You have already been introduced to some of these techniques.  Don’t make it necessary for us to use them again.” 

 

In this he lied, for he knew that she would be routinely kept familiar with all of these things and be introduced to even more exotic objects d’amour and painful positions, regardless of how well she behaved.  These were all part of her continued training and would be for the rest of her life.  Even if she responded perfectly to his crew in all ways, she would meet and become continually more familiar with rope and whip and rubber and iron as her training progressed.  It was only by these techniques that they could teach her to contain the pain and even include it as a daily and accepted---no, a desirable and necessary part of her life.  In the end, her punishment must even be perceived as life threatening; for it was only by this that they would find the true depths of her submission to them. 

 

He held up his index finger, “The main rules; from now on, you will learn to serve those better than you.  There are layers and complexities to your new life of which you have not yet even dreamed.  You are NOT equal to others as your [previous family may have taught you; instead you now inhabit a lower level in which you will assume that all men are better than you.  Above all other men, you’ll serve your Master.  Only speak to a man when asked a direct question or allowed to speak freely, but never lie.  In your new life, you’ll be kept isolated, out of the sight of most men.  Your beauty is such that men would remember you.  But even more important, you will be offered only to those special few that your new Master deems worthy.  You are stubborn and I see you having problems doing this---keeping your silence, because you still see yourself as equal to men.  This lesson alone will be difficult for you to learn because of your attitude.  But we’ll break you of it; there is no doubt in this.”

 

“When asked a question, even if you know the answer is not what you’re your master wants to hear, never lie to him.  When a man, any man walks into your presence, you will immediately stop what you are doing, get up and stand in a submissive posture.  You will be taught other positions, but this will suffice for now.  This position is how you’ll acknowledge a man’s dominance over you in a way that invites him to take you for his pleasure---and to give you pleasure in return.”

 

He looked at her coldly.  “I know women---I’ve broken and trained females like you for decades.  A woman like you may perfectly do with your body as I command, but inside you’ll still be measuring, deceiving, thinking to always keep something to yourself.  Women like you always try to deceive, but in the end it is only yourself to which you will be lying.  But soon, sooner than you think, you’ll make a mistake and then you’ll pay a greater price than you can imagine for not learning this from the beginning.  But that’s the way that you are.”

 

He waited a moment before he continued.  “You’ll never look at a Master when he is addressing you, except when he’s given you permission to speak.  You’ll always address a man as Master, and always try your best to please your Master.  There will be times when you may be given to a woman for pleasure; you will address these women as Mistress, and they are to be accorded the same privileges with your body as that of any Master.  There may be times when a woman is given to you for your Master’s pleasure---he may have you do with her as he does with you.  In all of these situations, you will do as commanded.”

 

The previous part had been more concerned with her body, controlling the physical aspects and giving her a few lessons in slave manners.  Now he began the psychological indoctrination.  “Finally, as a slave, you don’t get to keep your name.  From now on, you’ll answer only to the name ‘M’.  Your slave collar has your new name on it; keep it on at all times.  Do you understand what I’ve said so far?” 

 

He watched her nod her head yes.  He knew that that nod began for her a journey of which she had no concept.  She had no idea as of yet of down what twisted paths and trails he would lead her in his bid to tame her, to train her, to forever make her his own.  Taking away her name was only the beginning of taking away her membership in her old family and making her a new member of his.  In this single act, her nod, she’d validated not only his control over her, but his authority to do so too.

 

“Do you have any problem understanding anything I’ve said so far?” 

 

Inside I burned, but I shook my head, “No Master.”

 

“Go over these rules until you know them by heart.  Think about them---believe in them.  There will be others, but you will get them later.  Failure to follow any these rules will result in significant punishment.”

 

Now on to the more mundane things; he held up his second finger, “You’ll maintain a schedule while on this boat.  You will get today off so that you can recover sufficiently to follow your schedule and prepare for tomorrow.  Starting tomorrow, you’ll get up at 6 in the morning and have tea or coffee, your choice.  You’ll dress for exercise and be ready by 6:15; we’ll provide your exercise outfit.  From 6:15 to 7:15, you’ll do a mix of aerobic exercises and light weights in your cabin.  From 7:15 to 9, you’ll shower, make your bed and clean up your cabin, eat a light breakfast, and put on your make-up and dress.  We expect you to look your best at all times.  I will not say this again, you will look your best at all times.  Your make-up will be minimal since you don’t need a lot, but I want you to emphasize your eyes.  Use lipstick and nail polish.  You’ll be able to put on new nail polish the night before, since you won’t have time during the day.”

 

He knew the next was useless to her right now, but he tried anyway.  She would play her games until she lost.  “You know that you are only here because of your looks---no one cares about your winning personality or anything else.  Given what you’ve already gone through, you also know that you will be expected to please your owner IN ANY WAY HE WANTS.”

 

The next part was meant to soothe her, make her a little more manageable.  She’d learn the truth soon enough.  “Unless required as punishment, you will not be undergoing any of our more persuasive techniques.  However, as I said, your “indoctrination” will give you the skills and knowledge that allow you to take ownership of your pain; these classes will continue for at least the next seven to fourteen days depending upon how quickly you learn.”

 

“Here’s the important part, at least for the crew that is,” he said with a small smile while holding up a third finger.  “You’ll be with each of the men for at least one training period a day, beginning at nine.  Keep in mind that the concepts of ‘fair’ or ‘not fair’ don’t exist for you anymore.  You don’t get to have say anymore about how your body’s used---get used to it, that’s the way it is for you now.  The men will provide you with whatever they want you to wear, since they began purchasing clothing for you on the island beginning ten days ago.” 

 

Given what they’d already done to me, I wasn’t surprised to be told that I would be a sex slave.  But I still nonetheless felt an electric pulse of shock go up my spine as he spoke those words.  I was numb emotionally and knew that the fear and the self-pity would come later.  I was almost a virgin, I KNEW that this couldn’t be happening to me; the me that had always been so protected by my father.  I was even more horrified to hear that the planning for my abduction had been that detailed starting that long ago.  How could I have been so stupid, so blind to everything around me for so long?  My emotions were rushing around so much inside of me that I didn’t know what I felt at the moment, but I vowed to myself to do the best that I could and still be true to myself.

 

He continued, “Each of my men will have at least ninety minutes with you each day beginning at nine AM.  After the first man finishes, you will clean yourself and prepare for the next man.  By the time you have finished refreshing your makeup, your next outfit will be waiting for you on the bed.  Whatever he’s brought for you, you will put it on and spend the next hour or more with him; you’ll willingly and enthusiastically learn what he has to teach.  This will continue until you have spent at least ninety minutes each with all four men---every day until you are told differently.  If any of the men feel that you are less than completely involved in learning what they have to offer or that you are giving less than a 100% effort in pleasing any one of them, you will be severely punished.  The men all have permission to punish you at their whim.  Do you understand what this means?” 

 

I looked at him and quickly nodded my head while saying, “Yes Master.”

 

He knew that his men were here to train M as well as break her.  And if she was prancing about on the boat all dressed up and these guys couldn’t fuck her at least once a day, there’d be a riot.  It was win/win for him; they got their nuts off daily and wouldn’t be as aggressive AND she’d be ridden like a horse for at least half the day, getting good training in sexual techniques with multiple partners all at one time.  The stress of her unwilling participation in daily gangbangs would keep her physically exhausted.  Plus, he knew that psychologically it would be extremely traumatizing for this inexperienced bitch to be passed around like an Indian peace pipe day after day and it would keep her more easily controlled and malleable.  Like he said, win/win.

 

But at the same time, he always kept in mind that he was working with human beings.  The men he used were cut from coarse cloth and were only human, the woman being broken and trained was beautiful and desirable, and he wouldn’t always be around---that was a combination just made for trouble.

 

“The men will begin your training tomorrow.  As with all of the others that have gone before you, they will take their time to make sure that you learned your lessons perfectly.  You’d better cooperate with each man and work on learning what they have to offer to you.  As I said, your “peace of mind,” depends upon it.”

 

He ticked off his fourth finger. “If history is any guide,” and he gave her a small smile, “you should be free somewhere around 2:30 or 3 in the afternoon.  When the men are finished with you for the day, you will shower, refresh your makeup, put on the swim wear that we provide and you will be brought up on the sun deck for fresh air and some sun bathing.

 

Fifth finger.  “You will go down to your cabin at 5:30 and prepare for a slightly more formal dinner.  This preparation includes putting on makeup and a gown we will provide.  In addition to serving the men during the day, you’ll serve the crew their meal beginning at 6 PM.  When they are finished eating, you may eat anything that remains, but you’ll return to your cabin immediately after finishing your meal.  Regardless of whether or not you’ve eaten, you will always be in your cabin by 7 PM.  You’ll change into your nightwear and have free time from 7 until 9, when you will then go to bed.  You will not leave the cabin during the time after eating and before you sleep.  This schedule will hold only for your time on the boat, since I can guarantee that your new master will provide his own schedule for you.  Finally, you’ll be eating with us starting tonight.”

 

“Do you have any questions?”

 

I shook my head no.  This was too much to for me to take in at one time, but I was sure that the crew would be more than willing to correct me when ever necessary.

 

Bossman cleared his throat, “I noticed that you’ve never shaved your pubic hair.  When you take your shower this morning, you will remove all of it, leaving only a thin vertical strip of hair ˝ inch wide.  Also make sure you get rid of all your leg and armpit hair.  There’s hair removal cream in the shower for you to use, since we’ve decided that you don’t need a razor blade of any type right now.”  He said this with a slight smile.

 

“Take the plug out of your ass now, take fifteen minutes to shower and get cleaned up and then I’ll bring your breakfast.  Your clothes will be laid out by the time you’re out of the shower.  You’re going to spend today getting ready for tomorrow and you’ll be eating with us tonight at 6.  Plan on getting dressed for dinner starting around 5.”

 

When Bossman walked out of the cabin, I slowly walked over to the bathroom.  There I gingerly worked the plug out of my rear and did what I had to do, then I leaned in and turned the water on in the shower.  After washing my hair, I soaped my body down and applied the hair remover.  Finally washing the stinking crap off, I stepped out of the shower and picked up the top towel off of a stack and dried my long hair with it.  I then grabbed another towel and dried myself off.  I’d removed the hair under my armpits and legs as ordered, and had done the best I could with my pubic region.  Using a blow drier to dry my hair, its naturally curly nature came to my rescue again.  I really didn’t need a lot of stuff to get myself ready.

 

Stepping out of the bathroom, I suddenly stopped as I saw Bossman waiting for me in the chair again.  I knew I’d taken more than fifteen minutes and immediately wanted to cover myself, even if it was just holding my hands over my crotch, but I also knew that this would enrage him and trigger punishment.  He motioned for me to come over to him with his forefinger.  When I stood in front of him in a submissive position, he then pointed to the floor by the side of the couch.  I looked down and saw a large dog dish filled with what looked like oatmeal.  I looked back at Bossman and he said, “My women very quickly learn that all of the rules are enforced.  You took too long---you get to get down on your hands and knees and lick the food up using only your mouth.  You make a mess and you’ll be punished again.  DO IT NOW!!”

 

I just looked at him for just a second to make sure that he really wanted me to do this, and then I painfully dropped to my knees on the floor and then onto my hands.  I put my face over the dog bowl and as a fiery red blush covered my face, I lowered my mouth into the cold, disgusting goop and began lapping it like a dog.  I was totally humiliated by these actions, mostly because of my complicity in willingly doing them.  After five minutes, I had pretty much licked the bowl clean and he finally gave me permission to stand again.  After giving me an intense look for a minute, he gave me permission to wipe my face off and to put my makeup on.

 

He’d told me where they’d put the makeup he wanted me to use, and when I got up enough courage to walk over to the dresser to check it out, I was surprised at both the range of items waiting for me as well as the high quality.  I first picked up a skin lotion and looked at Bossman.  Seeing him nod his head, I put a liberal amount in my left hand and rubbed it onto my breasts and arms, then my legs.

 

Next, I quickly put on a light base and then added eye makeup and liner.  Finally, with some distaste, I put on lipstick.  Still facing the mirror over the dresser, I realized that I’d been steeling myself for this moment all morning; finally getting up enough courage, I turned to Bossman and after assuming the slave position, I said, “Master, I’m ready.”

 

Bossman had supplied her outfit for the rest of the day until dinner and it was meant to be very symbolic.  Except for her leather slave collar, everything was white, a color set off nicely by Victoria’s dark tan.  The top was a sheer white lace bra with satin wedding bell designs that did not in any way conceal her breasts or nipples.  The bra cups had vertical slits that were laced shut.  Like the bra, the open crotch g-string with two straps on each hip were made out of a sheer material through which her thin strip of dark blonde pubic hair was visible.  To complete the outfit, he’d included a pair of white strappy four inch stiletto high heels.  The heels had two thin straps around the toes and three straps around the ankles; they were actually very sexy. 

 

Bossman motioned Victoria to her bed where everything lay.  Looking at what he had put on the bed, she turned and gave him a questioning look.  He told her, “M, if you have a question, go ahead and ask.  You’re young, have your ever worn lingerie before?”

 

I replied with a tone of wonder in my voice, “I’ve never worn anything like this before.  I’m not even sure how to put some of it on.”  With this, I picked up the panties and spreading out the side straps, I slid them over my hips.  Then I picked up the bra and finally got it on—getting the cups comfortable gave me some trouble, but eventually they were okay.  Finally, I put on the high heels.  I looked up and said to him, “Everything seems to fit except for the heels.”

 

He replied that they had been purchased a half size too small on purpose.  Bossman decided on the spot that he would make sure he was in the cabin to help her when she dressed for the next couple of days.  He then stood up and motioned her over to him.  When she got there and had assumed the slave position, he unlaced the front of the bra cups, opening both of them up with his fingers and fully exposing both of her nipples.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin gold chain which had a small complicated lock on each end and proceeded to attach one end of the chain to her left nipple ring and the other end to ring on her right nipple. 

 

Stepping back to look at his handiwork, he told her, “You’ll learn to work your clothing around your new jewelry. “

 

He then looked at her for a second, gazing at her exposed brown aureoles and pink nipples peeking through the front of the bra cups and at the chain that connected her nipples outside the bra; from there his gaze traveled to her belly and groin, concentrating for a moment on the thin strip of dark blonde hair clearly visible there through the narrow triangle of her sheer g-string, and finally down her gleaming, smoothly oiled legs to her high heel clad feet.  Shaking his head, he turned and walked out of the cabin, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t forget, dinner at 6, start getting ready at 5:30.”

 

I looked at his back as he walked out and when he was no longer in sight I walked over to the chair and sat down.  My legs were unsteady and my knees were quivering; I felt nauseous.  Looking down at my breasts, with shaking hands I finally began trying to tie the front of each bra cup back up again, but soon ran into problems because of the chain that now hung off of each of my nipples.  Finally, I stopped trying to cover my nipples and just concentrated on loosely tying the front of each bra cup back together. 

 

I didn’t know what to do now.  I had never worn anything like this before and was quite embarrassed about the way it not only revealed my body, but actually accentuated my nakedness.  The open front bra cups were pornographic in the extreme as was the g-string.  I was particularly uncomfortable with how the crotch strings of the non-existent panties cut into the lips of my pussy, and I kept trying to adjust them in an effort to find a more comfortable way to sit while wearing them.

 

Bossman had had to walk out when he did because if he hadn’t, he’d have jumped her right on the spot and that wasn’t in the game plan right now.  He wanted M to trust him and even though he’d already raped her twice when she was being indoctrinated, fucking her brains out right at the beginning of her training wasn’t the way to get that.  He wasn’t sure if she had yet realized the difference between being broken by indoctrination and the training that followed.  He also knew he still had to appear to be strong and firm to her, yet fair.  This was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

 

When he walked back in a little later, I had made my bed and was now lying on it.  At his entrance, I jumped up and pretty much assumed the position of submission.   However, he barked at me, “M, pull your shoulders back further and push your chest out.”

 

I did as I was told and replied, “Yes Master.”

 

Walking to the dressing table, Bossman told me to go sit on the edge of the bed and to open up the front of each of my bra cups.   Doing as ordered, both of my nipples were now exposed to view as he walked over and sat down beside me to apply the antiseptic ointment.  He took his time rubbing in the salve, but his motions were not overtly sexual.  Finishing, he walked back to the couch and sat down again, telling me to cover myself up again.  This I did in a hurry for I had seen that he was excited by seeing me in this clothing.  It had looked like he’d had a small boulder in his pants as he left.  I had seen this reaction from some men before, but never in a situation of total dependency like this.

 

Bossman had found it difficult to walk away from Victoria.  He’d had a raging erection as soon as she’d exposed herself to him and it took all of his self-control not force himself upon her right there.  Once he was able to calm down, he then spent the next hour talking to M about her situation and what she had to do to survive.  He told her why she was wearing bridal lingerie—she would never marry another man, and that she was symbolically ‘wedded’ to all of these men now. 

 

His comments about ‘wedding his men’ brought tears to my eyes.  For as long as I could remember, I had always pictured wearing an expensive white dress and veil as I wed the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life.  My father and I had agreed, it would be a large wedding in which my family invited all of their friends and it was to be a joyous occasion.  Now I was wearing bridal lingerie to titillate a crew of white slavers that were raping and sodomizing me.  I knew that my life could go no lower.

 

He assured her that as long as she cooperated and kept her word, he would not allow any of the other men on the boat to hurt her or go too far in their training.  She was however, his slave now and SHE WOULD OBEY HIM in every way.  He emphasized that she really hadn’t had any choice and that she should not feel bad about any decisions she might have made in submitting to him.  She was, he said, a survivor and would be able to live with what she had to do.  Victoria noticed how at all times he made what he must have felt was a fair and rational case for her slavery, always presenting her position in a way that allowed her to keep her pride---he always gave her an out and only got upset when she did not seem to understand certain principles that he felt were key.  Even when he raised his voice, he was not overtly brutal or physical with her in any way.  She found that she greatly appreciated this, and the fact that she felt this way profoundly disturbed her.

 

Finally, Bossman said, “You need to get some sun today.”  Standing up, he reached over and grabbed the chain the protruded from the front of her bra and lightly pulled on it, forcing her to her feet.  Although not brutal, he continued using the chain like a halter as he dragged her from the cabin, through the galley and up the steps to the open area in the back. 

 

I was mortified at being dragged through the boat like a horse on a lead.  I tried to keep close to Bossman since that reduced the pull on my nipples, but it was difficult with the high heeled sandals that I was wearing.  I had no other choice but to walk closely behind him, but my legs dragged, leaden with despair.  I knew that my clothing was far more revealing than anything I had ever worn before; this was proved to me as I was dragged through the galley where the rest of the men were sitting.  Elvis was working on a laptop, while the other three were finishing breakfast.  All four men had gone silent at my appearance and their eyes burned me with their intensity as they undressed me.  I knew that tomorrow with them would be awful.

 

Walking unsteadily as I was forced up the stairs, Bossman dragged me over to an air mattress lying on the back deck and told me that I could lay down on it.  Before he let go of my chain, he brought out a heavier chain and padlocked it to the one that connected my nipples.  I was chained to the deck on the rear of the boat.

 

I was allowed to be outside for almost six hours that day, alternating my time in and out of the sun.  The sun was a tonic and I felt better for having it on me.  Bossman was with me all of the time, talking earnestly and without crudity to me about my past, my future and what I could expect.  While he initiated no sexual contact, he rubbed suntan oil onto me several times and continued massaging my shoulders, neck, hips, knees and feet.  Except for him leading a group which held me a captive and having earlier been forced to endure all kinds of perverted sexual acts, he acted in all ways, I thought ironically, like a gentleman.

 

Bossman knew that Vicki had not developed the psychological dependency upon him that he sought, but he would continue working with her for the rest of his time on the boat.  Then, he thought, we’ll see.

 

Finally it was time, and Bossman led Victoria into her cabin in order for her to prepare for dinner.  He showed her how to take off her breast chain, but told her she was expected to wear it at all times.  After laying out her gown he then departed. 

 

I finally figured how to take off my chain and did so.  At this point, I was then finally able to take off the damnable slit cup bra which had so chafed my nipples.  After removing my heels, I finished disrobing by slipping the g-string over my hips and onto the floor.  Stepping out of my panties, I wrapped a towel around my hair and stepped into the shower to get clean.

 

Drying myself off as I walked back to the dresser, I fixed my hair and applied my makeup for the second time today.  I then put the nipple chain back on my piercings and when I was done, I walked over to my bed and picked up what Bossman had laid there for me.  The halter top stretch gown was ankle length and navy blue in color.  The material was sheer and virtually transparent, with darker floral patterns woven in.  Tied in the back, the gown would tightly contour my beasts and flat stomach, hug my hips and flow to just above my feet when I wore high heels.  There was also a dark blue stretch lace garter belt almost wide enough to be a waist cinch and which used faux pearls as the garters.  The stockings were a fine sheer navy blue in color and were plain at the top.  The outfit was finally topped off with dark blue pumps with 4 ˝ inch stiletto heels. 

 

Bossman came into the cabin just as I had finally put the garter on and was looking helplessly at the stockings.  I was finally beginning to get used to his coming in unannounced and went automatically into the slave position.  He told me to sit down and put the stockings on.  With only a little instruction from him, I finally put on the left stocking and stood up to fix the garters to it.  I then sat down and put on the other stocking.  When I stood up the second time, he told me to put my heels on and to make sure that I had the stockings held up tightly on my legs by the garters, since the men hated to see female slaves wearing stockings with wrinkles at the ankles or with baggy knees; that these infringements would earn me severe punishments.

 

Wearing only my slave collar, garter belt, stockings and heels, Bossman had me walk over to my dresser mirror and check out my reflection.  He told me that much of the time I would be wearing stockings with seams and that I must be careful to make sure that these seams went perfectly up and down the center of the back of my legs.  To ensure this, I was to stand with my back to the mirror, straighten my legs and then spread them about two feet apart.  I was to then bend over, wrapping my hands around one of my ankles in the process and then slide my hands slowly but firmly up each of my legs, pushing up any excess in the nylon in order to get the wrinkles out of the stockings; all the while I should be checking myself out in the mirror to see how straight my seams were and how my stockings looked to the men as they watched me from the rear.

 

After tightening my stockings as directed, I walked back to the bed and finally stepped into my gown.  After wriggling it down over my hips I was embarrassed that I had to ask Bossman’s assistance in tying the back of the gown.  It certainly was a tight fit, I thought to myself.  When I finished dressing, I walked over to the mirror again and looked at myself with shock.

 

There was nothing left to the imagination.  The black slave collar contrasted with my dark blue gown and so drew attention immediately to my status.  I wore no bra so my nipples were visible and semi-erect as the cloth of my dress chafed them, and the chain connecting each nipple hung down slightly between my breasts under the sheer cloth.  My belly is flat and the gown was tight there before it flared out while hugging my hips.  My vagina was completely exposed to view since I had no panties and the thin vertical strip of remaining pubic hair only emphasized my femininity.  My long legs were emphasized by the high heels I was wearing and the stockings that came up high on my thighs only increased the total sexuality of my ensemble. 

 

Victoria seemed humiliated by the outfit and looked like she wanted to die, but he knew that she just wasn’t used to seeing things like this on women, let alone wearing them herself.  Bossman thought he had rarely seen such a beautiful and sexy woman.  He knew that there are beautiful women and there are sexy women, but very few times was the same woman both.  Rarely did such a magnificent specimen as this slave come his way, and he would make his plans accordingly.

 

Taking my hand at 6 PM sharp, he led me to the door and into the galley where he announced, “Gentlemen, I would like to present M.”  The men seated around the table looked at me with emotionless faces, while I was led to the counter which contained the food.  The dinner began and I served all five men without difficulty.  The men took their time eating and talked of various things that needed to be done, some of which included my training schedule.  The men were rather formal in their addresses to Bossman, almost as if they were uncomfortable with the arrangement and they talked of me as if I were not there; I remembered little of what was said to me.  The men’s meal when by in a blur and finally they were done.

 

There was plenty of food left when it was my turn to eat and I was now hungry.  I was allowed to use a fork, so the meal went quickly and at 7 PM sharp Bossman stood up and gave me a hand signal that dinner was over.  He led me back into my cabin and closed the door, ensuring their privacy.  He told me to change out of the gown and he would lay out something more comfortable for me to wear.

 

Once he had unlaced the back of my gown, it took me only a couple of minutes to remove the rest of my clothing.  Bossman then ordered me to fold it and put it in the dresser drawers carefully; I was to do this with all of the clothing I might wear.  However, I was to wash my stockings out each night and put them in the drawers ready to be used the next time.

 

I then walked over to the bed and looked at what he had laid out for me now.  Comfortable, I thought to myself, huh.  Part of what he’d laid out was a sheer black cupless front lace-up bustier.  I held this up and had to look at it for about thirty seconds before I even recognized it as going around my torso.  There was also a sheer black chiffon short robe that barely came down over my buttocks, and the inevitable black stockings; this time sheer hose with embroidered tops.  Another set of black five inch stiletto heeled strappy sandals finished off the outfit.  Off to the side, there was a set of long dangling earrings and a thin black velvet choker.  I looked at what was on the bed and then looked at him thinking, “These outfits look like they are out of some adolescent boy’s wet dream.  I’m sore and I’m tired and I don’t want to wear this stuff tonight.  And I don’t want to have him watch me put it on again---and I don’t want him touching me tonight.  Please, just not tonight, not again.”

 

As if he could read her mind, Bossman said, “You’re here because of your body and your looks.  You’ll wear whatever you’re given for as long as you’re supposed to wear it—that’s a good slave.” 

 

He didn’t have to say that last, she thought to herself, as she actually flinched when he used the word slave.  But it drove the point home and he won that round.

 

Bossman continued, “You’ll get used to wearing garter belts, bustiers, babydolls, stockings, heels and all of the rest of it.  You’ll also get used to wearing leather and rubber and nylon too.  Now go ahead and put this on.  And one more thing M, smile.  You may not feel like it, but I want to see you smiling from now on.  Do you understand me?”

 

Nodding my understanding, I began with the bustier, stepping into it and lacing it up tightly over my belly and then repeatedly adjusting the bar shelf under my breasts until they both rested comfortably on it.  The chain connecting my nipples draped seductively below my cleavage, and the marks from where my breasts had been bound previously were almost gone by now, although a little of the soreness still remained.  Because of all the adjusting that I’d had to do to get my breasts comfortable, my nipples were a little erect at this point and this embarrassed me as soon as I saw Bossman looking at them.

 

Pulling the garter straps down to my thighs, I sat on the edge of the bed and put on the stockings and the high heels as I had been shown before walking over to the dresser mirror and running my hands up both of my legs.   I made sure I was smiling as I did all of this.  Taking off the slave collar as I walked back, I put on the short robe, the choker and finally the earrings while standing in front of the mirror.  I looked at my reflection and then rearranged the bustier once again since it was difficult getting my breasts comfortable with the way they were pushed up and out.

 

Finished, I turned and stood in front of Bossman.  I looked at him and his eyes had a raging intensity that I had never seen and an erection that looked huge in his pants.  This frightened me more than anything.  But rather than assuming a submissive pose, I stood with my legs slightly spread and one knee in front of the other, gazing directly into his eyes.  Although only nineteen and not experienced in the ways of sex, as a woman I instinctively knew how to excite a man.  Without thinking, I had decided to challenge him.

 

He immediately knew what she was doing and knew that he had to punish her for it.  Without warning her, he quickly slapped her face hard with his right hand while his left shot out and grabber her right nipple.  Twisting it savagely, he asked, “Do you have something to say?”

 

I shuddered at the savage pain in my breast, but quickly assumed the slave position while saying at the same time, “No Master.”

 

Bossman stood there for a second before letting go and putting his hands on his slave’s shoulders.  “M, don’t play games with me---do you finally begin to understand what you are?”

 

I nodded quickly, without looking at him.  I was looking down at my shoes and saw that his erection had gone down slightly from before.  But he wanted to touch me and I knew that I was doomed.

 

His left hand then went to her left breast and he began to softly fondle it, paying special attention to her nipple and the bar that pierced it.  He massaged her nipple with a lingering movement, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.  Finally swollen to its maximum, he continued playing with it for a minute before he slowly walked around behind Victoria without letting go of her nipple.  When behind her, his then trailed his right hand trailed up over her hip from the back and then slowly down her belly and over her remaining pubic hair to her clit, where he began to roll it between his right thumb and forefinger.

 

I’d known the second I’d done it that it was mistake trying to play with him.  He’d punished me, but then he’d done something remarkable.  I’d been paralyzed when he moved around to my rear and suddenly I felt like my mind had split in half.  I KNEW that I shouldn’t be here on this hellboat.  I knew that I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been kidnapped.  This was not something I wanted, this was something that no woman wanted.  I’d been kidnapped and raped, sodomized and tortured.  This was any normal woman’s worst nightmare.  And then there was that other part of me.

 

Although I hated myself for even having these ideas, I had to admit to myself that I honestly found his movements immensely erotic.  I could feel his erection with my buttocks and while sore, my both nipple and clitoris were also erect and demanding attention from a man.  The worst part was that it didn’t even have to be this man, it could have been any man at that moment.  There was a distant voice in my head screaming that this was not normal; this was not me, this couldn’t be me.  There was an even more distant voice screaming in my mind that there was nothing like this for me back in Florida.  I couldn’t believe how I felt at this moment, the inappropriateness of it all.  I just knew that I had to be going insane to be thinking the thoughts I was, to even be considering what I was considering.  This man had RAPED me.

 

His voice sounded husky to me as he whispered in my ear, “I promised myself that I wouldn’t touch you again while on this boat.  I am going to break that promise.  You belong to me—I want you and I want you now.”

 

To himself he was thinking, I may have broken her, but she’s still got too much spirit.  I’m going to give this hot little bitch everything she wants and a little more, enough to put her down in the gutter where she needs to be.  Now we’ll see how everything has been working; the drugs, the lack of sleep, the stress of being forced to change.  With that, he led Vicki over to the bed and told her to sit on the edge of it.  She looked frightened, like she’d known for a long time that it would finally come to this.

 

Bossman couldn’t believe that he was going to do this with this girl, at least not now.  She wasn’t supposed to be on his menu right now.  He’d planned on having his crew work her over, while he got her to trust him and then he’d use her.  But he knew that this was just his physical need driving him now, and he hadn’t made decisions based on physical desires for a long time.  There had to be something more here than that, but he knew there wasn’t.  There was no emotional connection here, just a man’s lust and a primordial desire to impregnate this woman.  HIS woman!

 

He had her sit on the edge of the bed and spread her knees wide, then lean over slightly and put her hands on her knees and just look at him for a few moments.  She had a befuddled look on her face as she exposed her most secret parts to him.  He looked at her and she was beautiful as her whole body was on display for him.  She was slightly bent over and her breasts were pushed together by her upper arms as her hands rested upon her knees; both nipples stood out in relief.  He could clearly see that her labia were swollen as both heat and moistness seemed to rush out towards him from between her legs as she obeyed his every move. 

 

Finally, he had her lay back on the bed.  She obeyed his every order, a confused look on her face even as she laid on her back for him.  This move that she made at his command completely exposed her vagina to his gaze, along with her long shapely legs.  M’s long blonde hair lay splayed out on the bed around her head and her breasts rose more quickly as her breathing rate began to increase.  Speaking softly, he said, “Raise your legs and point them at the ceiling.”  After she had done this, he said, “Now slowly spread your legs as far apart as you can.”  Vicki hesitated for a only second and then complied.

 

The sexual vulnerability that this position put me in can not be underestimated.  It was as if another person was doing this and I was off to the side watching this girl perform for this man.  Another part of me was thinking that he must have felt that what I offered him with this move was a good sign that I had truly accepted my slavery under him.  He was standing between my legs looking down at my vulva and seemed pleased to see that my genitals were looking reddish and a little swollen.  Oh God, I suddenly realized, I had swelled slightly there while under his gaze and his touch, and I now felt slightly puffy, as if overflowing with unsought need.  I closed my eyes so that I wouldn’t have to look at him and kept my arms spread to keep my balance.

 

I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me; that I was not only cooperating with him, but had realized for the first time that I wanted him to take me.  I also understood for the first time that I wanted him to want me.  This need I had for him to desire me wasn’t the real me, couldn’t be the real me---I didn’t know what this meant.  I closed my eyes so that he wouldn’t see my confusion and as his hands first touched my ankle, I clenched my fists around the bedding in both dread and anticipation.

 

Putting both of his hands around her slender left ankle, he slowly ran his hands down her nylon clad leg.  The slippery feeling of her stockings on his hands aroused him immensely, while the changing visual hues of the sheer black hose that she wore accentuated the topography of her ankles, calves, knees and thighs; all of this was terribly sexy and totally alluring to him.  He was gigantic and ready to burst if he didn’t soon get relief inside her soon.  But he wanted more; her silence wasn’t enough—he desired her cooperation in this.

 

From M’s slim and shapely ankle, his hands slowly slid to her softly rounded yet muscular calf, hesitating and stroking around and just above her knee and finally down her firm thigh to the top of her hose.  There, he played with the top of the stocking for a second, running his hand underneath it before finally continuing to her pussy.  Here, he gently pushed the tip of his thumb into her moist vagina before using it to rub her clitoris.  He looked up as M inhaled sharply.  Her eyes were closed, but there was a slight smile on her face.

 

Bossman looked at her face for a second and then said, “Total surrender can be very liberating, can’t it?”

 

Without opening my eyes, I nodded both my understanding of what the question really implied and where my agreement with it would ultimately take me.  I was screaming no, no in my mind, don’t do this; yet I couldn’t believe the thrilling, tingling sensations between my legs as he slowly tortured me with his hands.  A tiny part of my brain still argued that I didn’t want this; but the rest of me had finally admitted how good it felt having him touch me like this and how ready I was for a man like him. 

 

Letting him take full responsibility for what I knew would happen tonight allowed me to maintain the small fiction that I was not cooperating with his every move and demand.  But admitting to this deception had seemed so difficult, yet suddenly it seemed so freeing.  God!  How could I even be considering this?  God help me fight this; help me fight giving in to him. 

 

When he began massaging my pussy, all of these conflicting thoughts went away and I lived for the moment.  Every bit of my upbringing and all of my beliefs about morals and the goodness within me vanished as if a feather on the wind.  My moan of pleasure was my answer to all of the doubts and fears that had plagued me.  I immediately began to get wet and my breathing increased helplessly as Bossman continued to stimulate me between my legs.   I couldn’t help myself--it just felt so good!

 

Bossman brought his hands back up to her ankle and now put both hands on the inside of each of her legs.  Again beginning with her ankles, he slid his hands slowly down the inside of her calves, working his way towards her knees and finally her thighs, always pushing her legs further and further apart.  Stopping and stroking the inside of his teenaged slave’s thighs for a minute, he then went back down beyond the tops of her stockings and again began working on her wet vagina and clitoris with both of his hands this time.  She tossed her head from side to side, and then gave out a low soft moan that seemed to go on forever.  He worked on her clitoris for a couple of minutes, stroking it, rubbing it between his fingers and finally just lightly touching it.  He then reached over and brought out a vibrator and gave it to her with the order, “Massage yourself where it feels best.”  She opened her eyes to see what he was giving her and for the first time Bossman could see that her eyes were a darker green than before and they were filled with confusion.

 

Feeling emotions I’d never experienced before, I took the vibrator and slowly put it between my legs and laid it directly on my clit.  I let it rest there lightly as it vibrated my hot spot, sending surges of electricity up and down my spine.  I felt a pin-point flicker of flame between my legs that began to grow and grow with every moment that I concentrated on obeying him.  I had finally given up fighting whatever it was that I had been struggling against.  I now knew that even though I had no choice tonight, I would offer this man, my master, whatever he wanted, whatever I had that he desired.  I might be a prisoner and a reluctant slave, but tonight I couldn’t help myself.  At nineteen I thought, I am finally ready for this.  I felt so confused; this couldn’t me lying with my back on the bed, yet I couldn’t believe how intensely I felt that I was finally ready.

 

Slowly pulling her hands away from her groin, he kneeled and slid his face between her gorgeous thighs, finally dipping his tongue into her pussy.  She had a wonderful musky smell and her pussy was wet with her love juices.  M moaned a soft drawn out “YYYyyeeeesssssss,” and slowly moved her hips as his tongue penetrated deeper and deeper; with her legs spread wide and in the air, she was totally open and vulnerable to him. 

 

After a moment, I dropped my feet until they went over his shoulders and my heels then rested on his back.  He softly tugged at the lips of my vagina with his lips and after searching for a minute, he captured my clitoris and then sucked until it swelled up like a small penis.  It was extremely sensitive, because each time he took it in his mouth and sucked, I knew groaned helplessly and arched my stomach into the air.  God, how I hated being a puppet and he the puppet master; with me reacting to his every desire as he pulled first this string and then that. 

 

At the same time, I felt that there was a gap, an insurmountable distance between the real me and the insides of my thighs as they pressed uncontrollably against his face; my mind seemed to keep its distance as my body reacted to his tongue.  As his mouth worked the deep V between my legs, Bossman kept his hands on top of both of my thighs slowly sliding them up and down, all the while seeming to enjoy the slick feeling of my legs beneath his fingertips.  He then changed the position of his mouth and sucked softly while covering my whole vagina.  I responded with a deeper groan and began to slowly grind my hips into his face, while at the same time my feet began to beat a soft tattoo on his back.  In a second, I was shocked as I heard my voice softly repeating, “Yes.  Oh yes.  Oh yes!”  As he sucked, my love juices began flowing even more strongly; he alternately swallowed and spit out my wetness.

 

Later, he pulled his head from between her thighs and pulled her up into a sitting position so that he could check on her to see how far she was gone.  She was breathing heavily by this point.  Everything was working perfectly; she wasn’t aware that it wasn’t really her---or perhaps it WAS a part of her that he’d uncovered.  She didn’t know that it was the drugs and the coercion and the pain and the fear of punishment.  That she hadn’t really made a conscious choice in this.  But then again, like he’d found in so many other women before her, perhaps the need to be punished and controlled and tamed was in her nature.

 

Certainly, she seemed to want nothing more than to have him inside her—damn, is she ready and willing now, he thought to himself.  Standing up, he guided her hands to his pants.  The whirr of a zipper followed as she freed his erection.  Putting his hands on the back of her head, he pulled her mouth towards his groin.  Without any hesitation, Victoria opened her mouth and with difficulty was finally able to put the first part of his cock into her mouth. 

 

I couldn’t believe I was willingly doing this to him, doing this for him.  I’d never had a man in my mouth and had never wanted to have a man there.  His hand was on the back of my head pulling me toward him and I saw his giant erection coming closer and closer to my face.  He was so large that it was difficult to get my jaws wide enough to accept him.  I first closed my eyes and then finally after a short struggle, I closed my lips around his giant erection.  I could only get the first couple inches of him inside my mouth, but finally I started sucking and moving my head back and forth; I knew that I wasn’t very good at this.  I’d never done this before, but I knew that it seemed to feel good to men and for some reason I wanted to please my Master.  I knew that I wasn’t the best at this tonight, but I somehow also knew that I would get a lot better in the near future.  But I have to admit that I was glad when he pulled out of my mouth and made me move.  I just was not ready for the oral sex.  I did not like the feel of him there, nor did I like the taste.  It was too….foreign to me to feel comfortable with this.  I was so confused with everything that was happening to me tonight.

 

Now that she was finally ready, Bossman moved his loins away from her mouth and took her hand, moving her onto the center of the bed where he could better take her.  She lay on her back with her legs spread apart and one knee slightly raised.  He marveled at her breasts, jutting into the air as they responded to the design of the constrictive lingerie, the nipples standing proudly erect.  She looked at him with eyes of dark, dark green as finally, with a small smile, she held her arms out to him.

 

Lowering himself upon her hips and stomach, he settled down on her body making sure to support his weight with his elbows.  Time to be gentle right now; he didn’t want to scare her tonight too much and there would be plenty of time to be a hell of a lot rougher with her later.  Victoria’s legs came up and locked around his waist of their own accord for a moment, then smoothly slid down his flanks and then intertwined with his legs---he loved the feel of her nylon clad legs moving across his skin.  At the same time, her hands slid around his shoulders and her fingernails began to dig into his back.

 

Keeping her belly and hips pinned by his weight, Bossman took his time as he maneuvered his groin and when the tip of his cock felt her moist, hot lips, he gently moved forward.  As the head of his cock first parted her lips and then entered Vicki’s vagina, he felt her try to throw her pelvis into him, but she couldn’t get any deeper penetration with her moves; her fingernails were digging painfully into his upper back.  Surprisingly, he then felt her hands slide down his back to the cheeks of his ass where they dug in again as she tried to pull him into her.

 

Unwilling to hurry, Bossman played with her for a couple of minutes, giving her slow in and outs, with only an inch or two ever penetrating the wet lips of her pussy.  Victoria was becoming increasingly restless with her need for satisfaction as she lay beneath him, but he knew that this was part of being a slave---she’d wait on his needs.  He then stopped moving and lay on her with only two inches of himself inside her.  When he began the short drives again, he made sure that the angle of his drive into her body ensured maximum friction between the massive head of his cock and her clitoris.

 

I felt his weight upon me and knew that I was finally ready, finally wanted him inside me unlike the previous times when he’d raped me.  And that thought immediately flashed to….how could I desire the man that had already raped me twice?  This was insane!  But deep inside me, I knew that all rational thought had left me, departing with the arrival of his fingers and his mouth, and finally his enormous manhood.

 

I wanted him, but Bossman wouldn’t cooperate, he wouldn’t complete any of the strokes that would start me towards my release.  I grabbed his face and looked deeply into his eyes, then searched the ruined side of his face.  I instinctively knew that he was doing this to torture me, but at this point I didn’t care—all I wanted was that giant cock buried inside me.  At first, I just lay there, but within moments I began moving helplessly in an increasingly erratic way.  My legs began writhing, slickly moving up and down his legs.  I felt my hands pulling harder on his ass, and then I began moaning and finally begging him for relief, “Please, give it to me.  Plllleeaassseee give it to me”.  But he was implacable.

 

Finally, knowing that he just had to feel his cock buried up to the hilt in her, Bossman grabbed Victoria around the neck with both hands and began lightly choking her while he gave a giant thrust of his hips and buried every inch of his erection inside her pussy.  Her ass felt firm as his balls slapped against her crack.  Her pussy was wet and tight and felt hot to him.  She reacted instantaneously with a long drawn out scream, “Aaahhheeeeeyyyyeeesssss!”  However, this scream was not one of rage or fear or anger, but rather of pure pleasure and to all of the men on the boat that heard her, the difference was immediately obvious.

 

He was choking me as he made his first full thrust inside me and I couldn’t breathe---but it felt so erotic, so right.  God, he filled me and it felt so good!

 

He again tried to remain motionless while insider her, but the way she was thrashing and throwing her hips and belly into the air ensured that he could not.  Letting go of her neck, he waited until her hips bucked into the air again before he grabbed her ass with both hands and held on for the ride---he’d let her wear herself out this time.  Her ass was so firm, so muscular beneath his hands; someday, he promised himself, he would have her there too.  But for now, he centered himself on her body; every time she bucked or arched her belly into him and raised her ass off of the bed, her hips now supported all of his weight too.  He knew from vast experience that a young slave girl like her couldn’t keep this ride up for too long before she either came or was too tired to continue.

 

And so it was, in less than three minutes I arched myself into my Master and held my body bowed into his for as long as I could while I shook to a mind numbing orgasm that went on and on and on.  Finally exhausted, I collapsed beneath his weight and lay pinned, trying to catch my breath.  I stared sightlessly at the ceiling while my fingernails fluttered on his shoulders and back; his engorged cock still buried in me.  Bossman rested between my widespread knees and my feet were inter-tangled with his; I knew that I had to be careful not to hurt him with one of my heels.  I’d gotten what I needed from him, but I knew that Bossman hadn’t fucked me yet like when he’d first raped me; that his cock inside me still felt enormous—I may have gotten what I wanted, but he was still not yet satisfied.  There had been no white hot explosion of heat inside my vagina that told me he too had cum.

 

Finally raising himself onto his elbows and off of his teenaged slave, he glanced down and noticed the deep flush on her gorgeous chest.  There was no possible way that this woman could fake that rush of blood to her breasts when she came and it was an absolutely fool proof way to determine whether she had achieved orgasm or was just pretending.  Looking deep into her eyes, Bossman lowered himself onto her body and then reached under her shoulders and slid his hands towards the head of the bed where he grabbed her wrists and immobilized her.

 

Keeping his slave’s wrists pinned, Bossman began moving his hips, slowly sliding his cock in and out, in and out.  Although she had just experienced the best orgasm of her life---given how badly her first sexual experience had gone it may even have been her first orgasm, M was still a young healthy female and he could tell that her body was again beginning to react to his moves.  He felt her legs start to move again, encircling and pinning him and not allowing him to move.  She was still staring into his eyes when he leaned down and bit her neck, pinning her tender skin between his upper teeth and lower lip.  As he took his first hard nibble, he heard her breath hiss as she quickly inhaled.

 

Bossman continued his slow assault on her pussy for a minute and then changed positions, opening his legs wider than M’s and making her close her thighs around his penis.  His cock and ballsack felt great sliding in and out of the nylon canyon that her thighs formed together.  He liked the feeling of control when he had a woman this way, because he was so big that even with her legs closed, he was so big there was still nothing she could do to stop him.  The sensations were overwhelming for a moment and then he regained control.  He slapped her face back and forth, not hard enough to cause damage but certainly hard enough to assert his ownership over her.  Her face and neck were flushed red from his blows and her desire, but not bruised.

 

Next he had her roll over onto her left side and put her right leg into the air while he sat on the inside of her left leg.  His groin and M’s now fit together in a way that allowed him maximum penetration of her body.  There wasn’t a woman alive that he couldn’t make beg for mercy from this position, and that night M begged again and again and again.  After he grabbed her right leg and locked her knee and pulled it tightly against his chest, he leaned forward pushing her leg back into her side and giving him the potential for even deeper penetration into her.  From a distance, he heard M plead for him to let her leg down and that he was too deep inside of her, but he gave her no surrender and as his slave, she suffered because of that.  He penetrated her right to the top of her vagina, to the tip of her cervix, but carefully pushed no further.  Regardless of how much pain her gave her, he was always careful to fill her, but not to harm her.  He had one other move that he did with his females that ensured their total submission to him, but she had not yet reached that point in her journey of indenture---he wasn’t sure, perhaps she never would.  Only time would tell.

 

The more he hurt me, the more I responded---I couldn’t help myself.  This was a side of me that no one had known existed, not even me.  As that small part of me that was still rational looked on from a distance, it saw me take his blows and thrusting hips with magnificent erotic submission.  My many bruises and my pain were I knew to him, and truth be known, if I could ever admit the damning truth to myself, they were proof to me also of his virility.

 

He kept working her body, controlling her like a rider would a newly trained jumper; taking her over each new obstacle until finally she would reach an impossible barrier and her body would balk.  He’d then coax and force her over that hurdle until she reached the next point of no return; in this way, he continually compelled her to venture into newer and newer acts oftentimes against her will, until there was no unexplored territory left within Victoria.  His assault on her body had built into a perfect storm.  And now came the deluge.

 

Bossman’s seed jetted into Victoria’s body with the force of a thousand hurricanes.  It came in pulses and each white hot wave seemed to penetrate deeper into his captured slave, until her eyes began to roll up in her head.  Finally it was over. 

 

Teenage girls are little different from teenage boys in many ways and thus also have their own dreams and sexual fantasy’s of various types; of making it in cars with football heroes and young college men and of being stranded on deserted islands with the perfect romantic man.  But I could honestly say that I had never dreamed of this.  There was no romance here, no soft and tender love or lover.  It was sheer, brutal, magnificent sex and nothing more.  Every minute it seemed he had come up with new ways to be inside of me, new positions that made me start at the beginning and experience my sexuality over and over again.  And just when I thought it was over, he would make me shift or move just a little and it would start all over again.  He WAS a machine made of flesh, and I must have cum a thousand times, perhaps more.  And when he had finally achieved release, the feelings had been so intense that I thought I might pass out.

 

When I could next move, I hugged him around his neck and began sobbing softly.  I had given him everything I was and now it was up to him to decide what he did with me.

 

Bossman lay on his side with his arm draped over the slave that he now knew he could successfully train; he would own her body and soul.  As a last act before going to sleep Bossman had allowed M to remove her heels, but that was all.  However, he made up for this kindness by making M put her butt plug back in.  She was now breathing evenly and appeared asleep.  He was finally beginning to get his breath back and was admiring the perfection shown off by her cupless lingerie, when he noticed the bright red flush now beginning to fade from her chest and breasts.  With a smile of release and contentment, he rolled over and immediately went to sleep.

 

He woke once in the night with a raging erection and brutally took her to get release.  M was still softly snoring when he rolled over between her spread legs and before she was awake he had forced his erection into her with one huge thrust of his hips.  She awoke with a convulsive movement upon his first thrust, then bucked and tried to throw him off of her as she screamed, “Aaaahhhooowwww, OOOwwww, OOOOOWWWWW,” the last being at the top of her lungs.  Bossman immediately choked M to shut her up and began taking short brutal strokes into her pussy.

 

I came out of a deep fulfilling slumber and screamed my way into awareness as someone began driving a telephone pole between my legs.  While it hurt terribly, it was unexpectedness that forced my scream.  I fought hard as my fists pounded his back, but felt myself losing consciousness as my assailant choked me into submission.

 

He knew that he was in her all the way now.  By the fourth or fifth stroke, the teenager’s vagina was beginning to lubricate and he was into his machine-like mode of deep pile hammer slams into her body.  At this point Bossman had finally let her breathe again, and she was fully awake and looking at him with fear.  This he saw, soon fade into desire as she finally began to get into the mood for some hard core sex.

 

With all sleep now gone, I finally knew it was my Master above and inside me, and my fear went away.  Within seconds of my recognition of him, he stopped choking me and began to concentrate on subjugating me with his cock again.  After about ninety seconds, I was finally able to join in but that didn’t seem to satisfy him as much as it had just a few hours ago.

 

Bossman thought to himself, the stupid bitch was finally getting into the act and it was about time.  He pounded her for ten minutes before he felt the familiar stirring in his groin and knew he would soon be able to get his nuts off into his captive teenager’s cunt once again.  When he finally shot it into her, he gave a long drawn out groan of pleasure and rested on top of her with his cock still inside her pussy.  Her fingers were still clawed into his back even though he hadn’t moved for over a minute and that pissed him off, so without a word he rolled off of his slave and went to sleep again beside her.

 

In the end, he put what felt like a hot load of semen deep into my belly and then relaxed on top of me.  He was heavy on me and I tried to hold onto him.  But this small act of tenderness seemed to annoy him and after handcuffing my right wrist to the head of the bed, he rolled off of me and went back to sleep again.  I laid there wondering what in hell had just happened.  I definitely hadn’t climaxed and would probably be awake for the next hour until my loins stopped doing the jitterbug.  I lay awake for another thirty minutes listening to my Master breath and wondering what my life held for me—finally, I fell asleep with my arm over my owner.

 

Day Five: Training Begins

 

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone.  Again, I awoke quickly and without confusion.  I knew it must be before 6 or they would have been in to wake me.  I vaguely remember one of the men releasing my wrist from the head of the bed, but that was a little while ago.  I was still wearing my lingerie from the night before and I was uncomfortable with it all scrunched up around my chest, so instead of lying in bed I got up and undressed, leaving on only my slave collar.  I moved stiffly since my butt plug was causing me a little discomfort this morning and my legs felt weak; I was sore from having been worked over so thoroughly by Bossman last night.

 

I hadn’t slept well last night.  HE had left my bed just past midnight and I was awake again, bound to the bed by him as he’d left me and feeling helpless, suffering another wave of panic and horror at my plight.  Throughout the endless night my mood had been a pendulum, oscillating from a controlled effort to understand my predicament---myself and what I had done with him---to abandonment and finally to mortal terror, and my physical reaction had alternated between hot perspiration and cold sweat, until I was left drained by the fatigue caused by HIM and by what I had endured so far.  Even after all of this mental effort, I still didn’t understand what had happened last night and why I had been so willing to accept him inside me.  I felt my face get hot as shame burned me; the wantonness that I had reveled in last night had not been the real me, I knew this as well as I knew my own body.

 

I wanted to escape my embarrassment and hide in the blackness of sleep, but with the ever recurring stimulants of my fear and my shame, and of the forbidding life that I saw ahead of me, slumber was impossible.  At the same time, going through my mind as if in a loop of tape was the thought that perhaps if I just tried to be a little more cooperative with him, a little more receptive, perhaps the others wouldn’t hurt me so badly.  I asked myself, if I knew that I was only pretending, how could it hurt if I were to just go along with these men a little? 

 

The inner pendulum had continued swinging from rational thought to chilling mindless dread and now it fluctuated back to rational thought again.  I drifted along on my thoughts and of how desperately I had needed to sleep.  But sleep would leave me entirely at their mercy and I would not allow that.

 

Lying bound to my bed last night, I’d tried to visualize the activity that would have followed when my friends realized that I’d been kidnapped.  One hope surfaced for the hundredth time.  I would be missed.  My friends would look for me eventually, and with no luck they would surely be worried.  They would go personally knocking on doors of the clubs they had visited.  With no luck, their concern would deepen.  At what point would they suspect kidnapping, if they even permitted themselves to consider such a possibility?  Maybe that night?  But they wouldn’t want to act because it would cause me such embarrassment when I eventually showed up. 

 

Still, as they ran into dead ends and as the time for the departure of my flight approached and my ticket had to be cancelled, they would have to face the long-shot probability that something serious had happened to me.  Sooner or later, probably sooner, they would report my absence to the police, probably within seventy-two hours.  Oh God, I’d been held by these men for over five days and the police might have only been looking for me for only the last two days!

 

I hadn’t slept well last night---I’d finally cried myself to sleep.  I think that it was Dog Nose that had released me from my bonds earlier and I was in a grim mood now.  I was their captive; I knew that I had to cooperate with these men.  Strangely, at times I almost felt a desire to collaborate with them in their desires, but I fought this feeling for as long and as hard as I could.  This urge never lasted for over a few seconds, and I knew that I could never give them access to the “inner me” that a couple of them seemed to pursue just as much as the others wanted me physically.  It was impossible for me to let them think I enjoyed what they did to me.  I would die before I gave them that satisfaction.

 

I walked over to the mirror above the dresser and looked at myself.  I felt that I looked awful; I knew that according to Bossman and Dog Nose I had to forever get rid of the stern, gloomy expression on my face.  I ran my finger under the soft leather and played with my collar, knowing that this symbol represented a new beginning for me.  This morning truly represented the major turning point in my life.  If I went through with this, there would be no turning back.  I thought about what had happened to me so far and of what I was afraid was about to happen to me.  The unknown frightened me but at the same time I felt a sense of determination to see this whole thing through.  If my family was threatened, I had no other choice.

 

I’d wanted to die after the third day and had no desire to find out what other ingenious machines remained they had not yet used on me.  If I had not broken, I was frightened of what the men might have done if they’d continued to increase the levels of “inducement” to break me physically.  I emphasized to myself the word “physically” because I knew without doubt that they would never have my soul.

 

At the same time, I felt so confused now.  I knew I should despise them, for they were animals.  It was insane, but at other times over the last day or so I’d found myself increasingly understanding their point of view---I knew that I was pretty and they did like me.  It would be so easy to make all the belligerence go away and just give them what they wanted.  But I knew also that I would fight this feeling to the end, because it seemed so at odds with what they were doing to me.  At the same time, I also knew that if I went back on my word to them, if they felt that I had “played” them yesterday, had lied to them in order to get a day of rest, they’d never stop.  If I cooperated in this and they were right, my freedom would be gone forever.  I felt this great sense of loss of something that had been so important to me---for no matter what I did, I knew that they’d never let me go now; they had nothing to lose by continually upping the level of pain/punishment/torture until they’d won for good---or I died.  There would be only one ‘winner’ and there was no in-between.

 

Incredibly, and this was what scared me so, there had actually been those rare, fleetingly short moments when I had almost wanted to help them, to let myself go and drown in the pain they had caused me.  At one point when I had been lowered on that thing, that awful thing that had hurt me so much between my legs, the desire to cooperate with them, to let go of everything that I had ever been taught, to let go of everything that I thought I believed in just to see where it took me had been almost overpowering. 

 

Those fleeting moments were the times when the pain had been so exquisite that the line between pain and pleasure had been erased to the point of almost non-existence.  It had taken me awhile to be able to even articulate this thought.  But when I finally able to admit to the microscopic chance that this flawed possibility existed within me, it scared me to death.

 

With my final surrender the day before to their awful machines and then again to HIM last night, I knew that I had started down a road which never ended and that I was now in danger of throwing away everything that I’d ever been taught or had believed.

 

The thought of what I done with HIM last night laid heavy upon me.  I still didn’t quite know what had happened on this bed last night.  I was quiet by nature and I’d been raised to be in control of myself and of my emotions, to be virtuous and chaste and always act as a lady—that had been drilled into me by my mother for as long as I could remember.  I’d never been one of those girls that you’d see on a College Girls Gone Wild tape, but by the end of last night, I had totally lost total control of myself, of my body.  I was almost a virgin and it had been so unlike me; I knew that I’d never rest until I’d figured it out. 

 

I was discovering that it was easy to be proper when the dangers and the pleasures of the outside world were kept away.  I had always been protected; but now I realized I was unsophisticated about how much of the world really worked.  I’d had an unrealistic, almost child-like view of how the world worked when first brought onto this boat from hell, but these men had rapidly taken that away.  I just wanted to wake up and have this whole experience be just a nightmare.  God, how I just wanted to go home and hug my parents again.  Instead, I hugged myself and fought back tears.

 

***

 

Bossman had awoken early himself.  He sat on deck now and thought about the women he’d taken.  For most females, he felt that creating a pleasure slave out of an ordinary woman was a fairly predictable process.  But every now and then a woman came along that presented a more complex or unusual set of challenges.  They might be particularly strong willed or perhaps have a strong set of core beliefs that were diametrically opposed to what he might be trying to program, or even just be not very smart.

 

Victoria would be an interesting challenge.  In addition to that which she was inclined by her nature, many of Victoria’s conservative beliefs and lifetime habits were the result of her parents training---they’d originally programmed her in a certain way and Bossman knew this.  He also knew that when he began reprogramming her behavior, she would see him and his crew’s actions as a threat, not only because she knew what they intended to do with her but, and this was important, because if they were successful it would mean that she would be forced to make some major changes in her values and the way she viewed herself.

 

It was odd, but he’d proved it to himself time after time; the women that he trained and sold would more easily accept what their new future held for them than they would change certain beliefs or values that they had about themselves.  For some odd reason of the mind, it was easier for them to accept the inevitability of being a sex slave than it was for them to admit that they might enjoy it. 

 

He wanted Victoria to value him, to need him, to see him as chief among her captors, but not as one of the major threats.  He didn’t do this because he wanted her to like him or because he gave a damn about her feelings as a poor mistreated middle class girl.  But rather, he wanted her to see him as something more like an anchor, a mainstay that she could grab to help maintain her sanity. Because this would help him as he forced her to make some dramatic changes in her values and attitudes.

 

He’d taken his pleasure from her body three times now.  He knew that he’d been ‘a little rough’ the first two times, but the third time…aaah; the third time had been different.  He’d taken her that time because he’d lost control and it wouldn’t happen like that again.  He rarely lost control, and knew now that he somehow had to put psychological distance between them, somehow put himself outside the process of her training.  To do this, he knew that he had to give her his undivided attention; even as he controlled her fate, he had to sit and listen to her catalogue the unfairness of what was being done to her; he had to appear sympathetic to her and be understanding, and yet at the same time be able to subtly sabotage her attempts to heal the psychological and emotional damage that his men were inflicting upon her. 

 

He knew that she would rationalize her actions to herself, fooling herself into believing that she had broken and finally acquiesced to their demands because of their threats to her and her family.  But if she was like the others, at some point she would finally realize, she would finally be able admit to herself that it was in fact the senseless torture and pain that she had wanted to avoid.  Every man on the boat knew that this desire was only human, but her ultimate recognition of what had motivated her to quit fighting them would be devastating her.  For it would take away the strength that she gained from seeing herself as self-sacrificing---it would negate her view of acquiescing to his crew’s demands as an act of love for her family.  He would do his best to push her quickly to this realization, since it would ensure her complete subjugation and hasten her descent into total slavery.

 

Understanding this process, he had in the past always made the necessary time and gradually, like flowers laid at his feet, all of the other women that he’d taken through this process had opened up and eventually he owned them body and soul.  It was a seemingly impossible contradiction, but he’d worked it before with the others and he was confident that he would soon own her too

 

The bottom line was that if through his manipulations of her mind he could make enough major modifications in her beliefs about sex and sexuality permanent, she would be an excellent piece of property.  If he failed, she’d be passed on through the pipeline as flawed.

 

***

 

They obviously thought I was beautiful, but they would find that I had intelligence as well as looks.  I knew that it was in my nature to be both pragmatic and objective, and if I was naďve it was because I’d perhaps been just a little more protection than other kids my age.  My parents had loved me and I wouldn’t apologize to anyone for that.  Although I still felt shame at my actions, I felt less regret now at having been broken by them---ANYONE would have broken under that pressure---and I took comfort in the fact that my desire to keep my family safe was the final factor, the only factor that forced me to cooperate with these men, with Bossman.  This one fact trumped all other considerations.  But, for some reason I also knew in the back of my mind that my decision to cooperate with them even if only in small ways, had seemed so effortless and casual, had been so painlessly made that is was almost ‘odd’; it made me uneasy since it’d been too easy of a way out of my predicament.  I’d held out as long as I could physically, but I knew what Bossman and his crew had promised to do to my family if I tried in any way now to double cross him or play word games, so I was fully prepared to go through with my end of the deal. 

 

In addition to the shame I felt at my inability to keep on fighting them, I now was afraid---afraid of what they would do to change me today and tomorrow, afraid of what they had planned for me.

 

I had a good idea of what they planned to do to me; to do with me; what they would turn me into---and that was a whore and a slut.  They called me a whore, but I knew that I wasn’t.  I knew that I was innocent about much of life, but I was pretty sure that prostitutes did what they did out of necessity.  It was a business to them and they always separated business from pleasure.  On the other hand, to me sluts were generally openly promiscuous women---they did what they did I thought, because they liked it.  Sluts had taken their new sexual liberation far too far, and they just didn’t care about what anyone thought of them.  To me, there was a big difference between the two.

 

I took a deep breath and thought bleakly to myself, “Leave my family out of it and I’ll become whatever he wants.  In fact, I’ll be the best pleasure slave, the best whore he’s ever had.  But there’s always going to be something that’ll be me—I’ll never give them everything.  They might make me their whore and they can do anything they want to my body, but they can’t make me enjoy it.  I’ll be their whore forever if necessary; but I’ll never be their slut.  They can’t make me do that; they can’t have THAT.  They could touch me, but they couldn’t touch me, not the me that lay beyond my body.” 

 

With that realization, most of the fear slipped away. And as the fear subsided, so did any rage that I had felt.  I’d try to hide it, but I despised them and their equally blind Master.  To hell with him and his crew!

 

And so Victoria gave herself over to becoming what she only seemed to be, and let that mask of self guide her actions.  In this, she was more successful than she had ever dreamed that she might be.

 

***

 

Looking around, I saw a small pile of clothing on one of the chairs and walked over to look at it.  There was a burgundy sweat band, very brief stretch bottoms and a sports bra, both light gray in color.  These in turn were lying upon white ankle socks and pair of athletic shoes.

 

Before dressing, I took off my breast chain and slave collar, laid them on the dresser and walked into to the bathroom and I cleaned myself off, paying particular attention to between my legs.  Although Bossman had forced himself into my bed last night (quit playing with words, I thought to myself, to my everlasting shame I’d given him exactly what he wanted), we’d finished with what could only be described as a sexual marathon.  Consequently, I knew that I smelled like something that even the cheapest whore would avoid. 

 

I still burned with shame and embarrassment at the thought of how I not only given in to HIM, but in the end had willingly taken him into my body.  THAT was the problem, it had felt so good.  I had freely given him, my rapist, the great physical pleasure which I had unknowingly denied myself for so long.

 

Walking back into the cabin, I saw that someone had come in while I was washing myself and had set a tray of food on the table.  On it were one cup of lukewarm instant coffee, a warm croissant and my morning supplements.  It also contained the antiseptic cream that I needed to ensure that my breast piercings didn’t get infected---things were looking up.  Then I noticed that someone had brought in a TV and set it on the end of the dresser near my makeup.  Also, there was finally a small wall clock that had been hung over the bed.

 

Not knowing whether it was hooked up or not, I walked over to the TV with my coffee and looked in back—it was connected to a cable which went into the wall of the cabin and the power cord went to a normal outlet.  I turned it on and immediately, sound and light came to life on the screen, steadying after a second to reveal a female CNN broadcaster that I recognized.  Going back to the table with the croissant and sitting carefully, I watched in disbelief as my mother and then my father, and finally my aunt were interviewed. 

 

My mother was a workaholic, always in control and emotionally undemonstrative; she had always been hard for me to get close to.  She was a woman that had worked hard to get where she was and she had a lot of pride in what she’d accomplished over her career.  I loved my mother, but never really knew if I came up to her expectations.  But on the television, my mother was distraught and seemed almost on the verge of losing control, absolutely unlike I had ever seen her before.  She must be heartsick worrying about me.

 

I was my father’s girl.  Although my dad was a little odd in some of his beliefs, when I needed someone to talk with or just some emotional support, I always went to my dad first.  My father always knew what I was thinking and why—we were that close.  Since he was at home, his television interview was by remote hookup.  On TV my father seemed little better than my mother, being almost incoherent with grief at times.  My mom had always been the stronger one of the two, but neither of them showed the strength during the interviews that I knew they had.

 

But it was my aunt that surprised me.  Aunt Samantha seemed a tower of strength to me.  She was with my mother and both were still on Cancun.  But where my mother seemed disorganized and pitiful, Aunt Samantha seemed totally in control at all times. 

 

Samantha was my mother’s younger sister, her only sister and had been a surprise to her parents.  She was 29 years old now, a single, high-powered semi-feminist lawyer working in the city.  Her only remaining family was her sister, brother-in-law and myself.  Samantha was only ten years older than me; we knew EVERYTHING about each other and there was a bond between us that went deep, deeper than blood.  I called her Aunt Sam and in turn, Samantha absolutely spoiled me to death.  We were closer than most sisters could ever hope to be.  I blinked back tears as I watched my aunt.  During interviews, Aunt Sam always looked beautiful, was always poised and icily polite to the reporters no matter how stupid the questions, always positive in her answers and outlook, and always optimistic that they would eventually find me.  She was an exceptional woman, fabulous looking and more intelligent than anyone around her, and these qualities couldn’t be more clear than when she was on TV.

 

Sam always ended every interview on a positive note, insisting, “My niece will come back to us again.  We will get her back, we WILL see her again.”  It was all that I could do not to break out in tears; I missed my family so much.

 

***

 

I loved my Aunt Sam, but we were very different kinds of people.  I knew that I had always been much more reserved and well, very shy in an old-fashioned “decent” sort of way.  I was by nature much more restrained and less open than my aunt.  I didn’t like to swear and was uncomfortable using vulgar language, let alone doing so in public.  I think that I sometimes made people my age uncomfortable because I had a sense of decorum and perhaps even dignity that was appropriate in someone two or three times my age.  There had often been times that I wished I could be more demonstrative in public, but this was my nature.  And I was comfortable with who I was.  No matter how many friends I had and no matter where I might be, my life had always been centered on my family and it was these values that had always kept me grounded.

 

I was more conservative than my aunt in other ways too.  I’d read about them, but had never understood the early feminists call to demonize Barbie dolls and the Cosmo, to look with disdain upon the female desire to go shopping, to apply makeup and hunt for sexy shoes and cute boyfriends.  Instead it seemed these neutered women talked about a world where men and women dressed alike and worked in navy suits and were equal in every way.  I’d just never understood this.  All I had ever wanted was to get through college, find a good man to marry and then stay at home and raise a lot of kids.  Nothing to me could be more important than my family.

 

Although a successful career woman, my mother was not much of a mother.  There always seemed to something missing in her life.  Almost like she’d missed out on something earlier in her life, like she’d rather have been a full time mother than a successful business woman.  I knew that I’d never make that mistake.  My mother had always told me, “You can't be the best career woman and the best mother at the same time; you always have to choose one over the other."  While I felt that my mother may have regretted the choices she’d made, I knew that I had firmly chosen family over career.

 

This choice of mine drove my aunt nuts.  While I had never understood the attraction of feminism, my Aunt Sam on the other hand had bought into a lot of the rhetoric about the sex wars.  She did wear the navy power suits that emphasized her naturally dominating personality and as a lawyer, she delighted in taking cases in which she could defend women against men for real or imagined slights.  She just loved to screw loser men to the wall.  She’d come by our house later and mockingly laugh about what she’d done to them, how she’d been able to humiliate them in court and how the judgments that she was able to get against them oftentimes actually were unfair to the men.  But she didn’t care, as long as she was able to take care of her female clients.

 

A natural beauty, in a funny way Samantha had also made it clear to me that she was very aware that today technology is biology.  When Sam finally started to age, she freely admitted that she was going to take complete advantage of it to retain her looks. 

 

I thought this a strange contradiction in my aunt, where American technology trumped American feminism.  But even as my aunt Samantha embraced certain aspects of feminism, she also hated the grubby, unisex jeans and no-makeup look and the drugs that zoned you out.  Even as a feminist, she still liked to look enticing to men; I think that a little of this was the ‘you can look, but you’ll never have this’ touch with which she so dominated the men around her.  And she couldn't understand the appeal of dances that didn't involve touching your partner; in the universe of Eros, she longed for style and wit.  But she was always unhappy because of her conflicting impulses; make men fear her, but at the same time this public face never failed to intimidate the few men that she thought might be suitable.  While Sam loved to play the corporate power games, inside there was always the regret that the one man she was meant to be with for the rest of her life would more than likely be driven away by the very things that made her so successful.

 

I also knew that my Aunt Sam gloried in her achievements; the strength of will and purpose that had finally enabled Samantha to engage life on her own terms.  It had taken a long, long time, but at last she’d felt she was in control of her being and her destiny.  There was no one that could tell her what to do anymore, and being in control of everything around her was so incredibly important to her.  After Samantha had become a lawyer, she felt she was safe for the first time, secure for the first time, free of men and their sexist demands and the necessity to mold her personality and behavior to please them.  She’d vowed that she would do everything possible to ensure that never again would she have to submit to any man for anything.

And for the first time, Samantha felt she could finally do what she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted.  She was an independent soul and like it or not, she was more than equal to most men now.  In fact, she was superior to the vast majority of men now.  After more than twenty years of work and education and mental bondage and servitude, the kind most girls and women know well, her mind and body---yes, mind and body---belonged to no one but herself.

 

That was my Aunt Sam and God, how I loved her.  A ball-buster, a feminist and a narcissist; hard on the outside and a romantic on the inside.  All wrapped up in one beautiful contradictory package.

 

***

 

In the mirror, I saw Bossman come into the cabin behind me.  I turned to face him and immediately assumed the position that I’d been taught.  I, who had only been with one man before HIM; I who had never before undressed in front of a man in daylight, now presented myself with little guilt and without hesitation to HIM.  I’d been taught to lose many of my inhibitions in less than a week; they’d been severe lessons. 

 

Bossman looked at me, had seen my eyes brimming with tears.  While I thought he might have a slightly sympathetic look on his face, all he did was point to the TV while he said was, “M, turn that thing off.”

 

I did this quickly, then turned to face him again and assumed my posture of submission.

 

“Put your chain and collar back on.  NOW!”

 

I quickly put the collar back around my neck and locked it.  After this, I again donned my nipple chain.

 

Bossman continued, “Keep that collar on from now on—next time I see it off, you will be punished.  Don’t make me do that.”

 

After a long pause, he continued, “The men didn’t think you should be allowed to see the news about your disappearance.  But I’ve decided differently—it appears that it’s a slow news cycle right now and you’re at the top of the news.  But soon something else will come around; some tragedy, some great loss and you’ll go away.  You’ll disappear from the minds of the reporters and, eventually your family will learn to live with you being gone.”

 

I couldn’t help it, despite my best efforts I flared up.  “My family will NEVER forget me.  They’ll never forget about me.”

 

I paused and then took a chance, even while keeping a submissive stance.  “I don’t know who you are, or if you’re married or not.  I assume that you’re not, since you go about kidnapping women and raping and selling them.”  With this, I looked up at him for just a second, but then put my face back down to look at my feet as I had been taught.  I’d looked at him just long enough to seem to challenge him and I knew that he knew I had done so.  He could take much away from me, but he couldn’t take away my family.

 

“But a man like you might have a daughter somewhere.  A daughter like me?  Would you forget about her?  Would you forget your own daughter?”

 

He seemed to fly across the cabin and picked me up with both hands around my throat, lifting me off of the deck of the boat.  His eyes were filled with rage and he seemed out of control.  I knew that he would kill me and there was nothing that I could do about it.  I put my hands around his to support my neck but did not struggle.  After a few seconds he finally shook me once and let me down, taking a deep breath as he stepped away from me.  He took a few more seconds to calm down and then looked at me again.

 

He sighed, “Slave…..M, you test me.  Don’t CONTINUE to test me.  If I had a daughter like you, I would never have allowed her to go to the places that you did, where she could be taken like I’ve taken you.  I’ve let you have this TV so that you can get used to your new reality.  This,” he pointed around him, “this is it.  Believe it.  Believe in it.  Understand it.  No matter what happens in the outside world, your old world ends here and your new world begins with us---it will never change.”

 

“You may be idealistic as hell right now, but you know what we expect from you, what we WILL have from you.  I AM,” he glared at me, “the master of your body now.  Your flesh and your blood belong to me.  Your fear, your rage, even your lust belongs to me now.  You get no more choices here, no more opportunities to decide anything for yourself and the sooner you realize this, the better for you.”

 

Several minutes passed as he paced back and forth in the cabin.  “Okay,” he said as he calmed down a little more.  “This is my last explanation, so listen---listen carefully.  Here’s how I see it……the women of your age have had everything given to them.  Yet more and more of you act raunchy as hell in public and see no problem with this.  But what I really see you doing is confusing sexual explicitness with sexiness.”

 

He paused, “I once had an Anthropology PhD candidate as a ‘guest’ here on the boat.  She was a free spirit and even as we acquired her, she was convinced that a woman’s body is a ‘beautiful thing’---if a woman's got a pretty body and she likes her body, she needs to show it off.  She felt that it exuded confidence when people wore little clothing.  She had no compunction about exposing herself on the beach to pick up young guys.  The funny thing was---it was these acts of ‘freedom’ that had drawn our attention to her in the first place.  In any case, she insisted that she had every right to feel that way and I completely agreed with her right up to the point where I sold her ass to three men.  I figured that she’d enjoy researching the anthropological imperatives of having her box kept forcibly filled for as long as she still had a good body."

 

“You on the on the hand, are different from most of the young women coming out of the U. S. now.  Your misfortune was to be young and beautiful, and yet innocent about life.  Unfortunately for you, you’ll pay for that with your body and your freedom.”

 

“The rest of them?  They just don’t get it.  They don’t understand the link between behavior and consequences.  They get my attention by the way they act and dress; I wind up give them a little ride on my boat while I help them prepare for a new life and it’s a misunderstanding, they’re all begging me to understand them.”

 

“No matter what they might be wearing on the outside; blouse and skirt or dress, or pants suit, it doesn’t matter---more and more of the ones that I take are wearing nothing underneath.  They come down here and lay on the beach wearing nothing or next to nothing and they all tell me that they weren’t trying to provoke men, but that they just prefer to be naked because ‘that was the way that they were most comfortable’.  As if that were going to make a difference about whether they deserved to be in my pipeline or not.”

 

“You know?” he looked at me coldly for a second.  “The one thing that none of them ever counts on is that there ARE things that go bump in the night, and I am one of the things making those noises.”

 

“The bottom line is that I just love uninhibited, natural women.  I just don’t like it when they try to kid themselves about what they’re doing.  And M---I think that underneath everything you’ve tried to hide from us, underneath everything you’ve tried to hide from yourself, you’re just the same as these others; you’ll wind up proving me right and satisfying every man here at the same time.”

 

Changing subjects, Bossman pointed to the bed and looked at me, “We call this the Celestial Bed.  It’s the best bed on the boat, and as you know, it’s yours.  You willingly enjoyed it last night…….”

I was still thinking about what he’d said before, when suddenly I understood what he’d just said last.  I blushed and looked down at my feet.

“……and this is where you’ll receive your training for the rest of your time on this boat.”

After a moment of silence, I asked, “Why is it called the Celestial bed?”

Bossman looked at me with a small smile as if he thought I’d never ask and replied, “Most men in my line of business don’t believe in heaven.  But I think that that bed has converted many of them.  Men have gone to paradise on this bed---and I expect them to do so again shortly.  ”

 

He seemed to change moods, “Now start getting ready, it’s exercise time.  Tomorrow morning, we’ll bring your food after you’ve exercised.”  And with that he left my cabin.

 

***

 

As I slowly walked over to the exercise clothing still lying on the bed, I vowed to never again challenge him like I had, because for some reason I had felt a slight sense of regret at having disappointed him.  But at the same time I felt that if he wanted to think that they’d ride me to heaven, then to hell with them.

 

The shorts were just that, very short and tight to boot.  They were cut high on the hips, climbed up the crack of my butt, were tight on the lips of my pussy and didn’t cover nearly enough of my rear.  After I’d put them on, I found that the crotch of the shorts were so tight that they put pressure on the hard rubber pole nestled inside my rear.  I could also feel air moving across most of the lower part of my butt.  I did my best to ignore both of these distractions. 

 

The sports bra was not very large either, looking like it might have come out of something designed by a male jock for a Victoria’s Secret cum catalogue.  It didn’t give a full-bodied girl like me nearly enough support and I knew that my breasts would be bobbing and swinging freely with every move that I might make.  It was odd, but I was also sure that this was exactly what the men wanted and this thought gave me a vague sense of pleasure.  The nipple chain swung gracefully and hung down slightly from between the cups of the bra.  I carefully sat down and put my socks on and then the shoes, noting that for the first time I had been given shoes that were the correct size.

 

Just then Bossman walked back in carrying a DVD case and some light hand weights.  I immediately stood up and assumed the required position.  He dropped the weights on my unmade bed and walked over to the TV.  He pushed a button and a small tray came out of the bottom of the television.  Taking the DVD out of its case, he put it in the tray and showed me how to play it. 

 

“This,” he said, “is your aerobics work out video.  You’ll do a 30 minute workout, following this routine exactly; one might even say slavishly.”  He seemed to smile slightly when he said this.

 

“Then,” he continued, “You’ll work out with the weights on the bed for about 20 minutes.  We have second video for that.  I’m starting you with light hand weights and as you become more accustomed, we can increase the weight.  I want you to stay in shape.  I hate to see my property over-weight---I REALLY hate it!”

 

He looked at me hard for a second.  “Don’t fuck this up.  Don’t play some dumb ass game trying to get free.  Don’t try to hit one of us with the weights or anything stupid like that.  Remember what you are and where you are.  And most of all think about what happens to your family if you stop cooperating.”

 

“Just remember.  In return for our promises about your family’s safety, you have agreed to remain here with us.  You gave us your word.  I repeat to you, words have meaning.  You gave us yours and I hold you to it.”

 

With that he turned and began to walk out of the cabin, but then he stopped by my bed.  “M, from now one, you’ll make your bed first thing every morning and clean up this cabin.  After you dress, you will exercise, and then eat.  Finally, you’ll shower and put on your makeup, then put on whatever outfit you’ve been given.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Master.”  With my comment, he turned and walked to the door where he stopped and told me, “Tonight, we’ll talk after dinner.”  With that he left my cabin.

 

I went back to the TV and turned it on and moved it so that it was facing more of the center of the cabin.  I was familiar with the female aerobics instructor, but not this particular tape.  I’d always been athletic; running up and down a long field was my way of exercising, not jumping about to a video.  But I applied myself and by the end, I was sweating heavily.  I was a bit sore from having to move so much with my butt plug in, but I found that if I tried, I could eventually ignore it.  Taking a short break, I put the other DVD on and lifted weights for almost twenty minutes.  This, I found tiring and I knew that it would take me some time to build up to what Bossman expected from me.

 

After working out, I took a quick break and then started cleaning up the cabin.  I hesitated when I got to the bed.  I’d always felt so pleasured, so safe in my bed before.  I’d always been able to relax, allowing my mind to wander.  But not now. 

 

He’d called it the Celestial Bed.  This Bed was a symbol to the men of all that I hated about my life right now and of all that I had become to them.  But The Bed was a loveless arena for me now.  To the men I was not a human being anymore, but rather an entity, a target, a thing, a sex object whose presence was immediately equated with being the perfect sex receptacle and whose place was in The Bed and nowhere else.  I was a Bed object to these men and nothing more.  But then the thought came to me unbidden, things could be much worse.  I’d do the best I could in a difficult situation.

 

***

 

And that was my early morning routine for the rest of my time on this awful craft.  My exercise time turned out to be my only connection to the outside world, since other than these few morning hours, they somehow were able to remotely disconnect my TV from wherever the signal might be sourced.  I quickly came to value this time, because it seemed as if they never left me alone for the rest of the time; one or the other of them was always beating me, preparing to take me or had just finished punishing me for some imagined infraction.  When not doing this, it seemed that one or more of them was doing something awful to me in the pursuit of making me more “submissive.”

 

***

 

The other times I came to value were the hour or two on deck just before dinner and my time alone after dining.  Before eating, I could finally relax and let my defenses down just a little, even though the men were often about.  Surprisingly, Bossman and I would often talk as the sun was reflected off of the deck or the water as it baked us.  He was educated, well read and always thought provoking with his view of the world. 

 

Early on we talked about the weather, fishing, the Caribbean and any current events (other than my kidnapping) that I might have seen on the TV that morning.  Towards the end of his time on the boat, we talked about me (he was surprisingly candid about why it had been me that had been kidnapped and not one of the hundreds of other equally beautiful and certainly more raunchy girls just as available on Cancun), about what I believed in and about what I had experienced in life up to this point. 

 

He told me that they had reviewed a number of beautiful young girls as candidates to fill the position that I was destined to occupy.  The man for whom they were acting had desired a beautiful young woman that was idealistic and innocent, but who underneath still oozed sex appeal.  This female could not be overtly coarse or raunchy, yet the same time she had to be capable of being trained to be an absolute whore, a total slut in bed.  In short they wanted a woman that could move with the bearing of a Southampton debutante, but who could be re-educated to talk and fuck with the base vigor of a Victorian parlor whore.  I blushed at this, but I don’t think he noticed.

 

By the second day, he’d been pretty certain that I was the one for whom they’d been looking.  They had taken videos of me at the beach and a couple of bars that I’d visited and that had clinched it for the client. 

 

“On your last night,” he said, “ you collected the attention of everyone around you at Charlie’s as gracefully as fish swim through water----during the course of the evening, you’d energized the entire place without uttering a word loud enough for anyone but your two friends to hear.”  I blushed with a small feeling of pleasure at his observations.

 

“That last night, you were,” he told me, “a rare woman in that you were less interested in framing your beauty than embracing it.  The way you were dressed when we took you was proof of that.  That dress told us volumes about what you’ve kept hidden about yourself; qualities which you yourself have yet to realize.”

 

“We know you better,” he seemed to brag, “Than you know yourself.”

 

Suddenly, that tiny feeling of joy that I had just felt evaporated and I wanted to tell him that I was not impressed with his analysis of my charms.  I wanted to say to him, white slavery is not the way to a girl’s heart.  I wanted to tell him that the fact that I’d been kidnapped and raped, that all of the pain and humiliation that I’d suffered on his hellboat and the brutality with which I’d been treated would forever ensure that I would always be a captive and never voluntarily a slave owner’s companion.  But I still wasn’t sure how far I could go with him.

 

I lay on the deck and thought back to how I’d been feeling over the last couple of days; I wondered if this horrific experience was driving me crazy.  I felt almost schizophrenic, first I felt one way and then suddenly I felt another way; first I was up and then I was down; nothing appeared constant and I felt like there was someone else in my head with me, always whispering to me.  My instincts and empathy had generally served me well, but right now I had no idea of what or who to trust.

 

***

 

He finally got me to talk about my family.  I think that he thought he was actually being clever when he talked about his early life to make me more comfortable when talking about my family.  From his stories, I found that he was a hard man in many ways; a strong disciplinarian and one that believed in strict control of his property.  But I also found that he had a sense of humor and was not afraid to laugh—he’d not gone to the slave master’s school of evil after all.  True, he may often have laughed at the distress of the teenaged girl he’d sworn to turn into a slut---me, but at least he laughed.

 

I was greatly confused; in turn I hated him, and then felt I needed him for protection from the others.  At other times I wanted to hurt him as much as I could, then suddenly I found myself wanting to help him in anything he wanted to do, including what he did with me, as long as I didn’t disappoint him.  He was someone to talk with, but never to trust.  And a few times, only a few times I told myself, even though much older than me, I thought he might even be desirable.  I thought about that long, hard night when he had ridden me so thoroughly, and it was these last emotions that most confused me.  How could this have happened, how could I have lost control with him like that when he was ultimately responsible for everything bad that had happened to me since I’d been taken from Cancun?

 

***

 

One thing I will admit.  When we compared our early lives, I talked a lot about my family, but he seemed to ask a few more questions about my Aunt Sam than he did the others, but that was okay with me since she was the coolest person in our family and I was proud of her.  I recounted to him how my aunt’s only concern at this point was her career.  While Samantha didn’t necessarily fit in with all the new brazen hard charging world of feminism, she certainly embraced much of it.  How both my Aunt Sam and I wanted large families, but Samantha had put her desire for a family on hold.  How my aunt felt that while on inside she was more of a fun-loving type than the other feminists; after she had finally accomplished what she wanted, she would decades later be able come to life again in Sarah Parker’s Carrie Bradshaw.  How there would always be time for her to get serious later.

 

I knew that I had just emphasized to Bossman how odd I was for a teenager as we talked about how different Samantha and I were.  About how I loved the old black and white movies, the Art Deco glamour of the 30's; how I had dreamed of dancing with my future husband like Fred and Ginger in white hotel suites.  I wanted to drink martinis like Myrna Loy and William Powell; live the life of a screwball heroine like Katharine Hepburn, wearing a gold lamé gown cut on the bias, cavorting with Cary Grant, strolling along Fifth Avenue with my pet leopard.  All of these things I thought inordinately classy.

 

I had shown my aunt the 1995 publication of "The Rules," a dating bible that encouraged women to return to pre-feminist mind games by playing hard to get.  ("Don't stay on the phone for more than 10 minutes.. . .Even if you are the head of your own company. . .when you're with a man you like, be quiet and mysterious, act ladylike, cross your legs and smile.. . .Wear black sheer pantyhose and hike up your skirt to entice the opposite sex!")

 

But my aunt had discarded this with a few contemptuous comments.  At the same time, Samantha had once confided what she felt was her darkest secret to me after she’d had a little too much to drink at a family gathering; that she wouldn’t mind being a Maxim babe.  She knew that the luscious babes on the cover of Maxim were supposed to be men's guilty fantasies, not their real girlfriends.  That although she knew she was now too old, she thought it would be hot to be validated as a Maxim-type girl.  Maybe then she could get the Pamela Anderson “brand of approval” and find that “one” guy with whom to finally spend the rest of her life.

 

*******

 

After exercising that first morning, I quickly cleaned up my cabin, made my bed and then took a shower after removing my collar and chain.  Coming out, I was just in time to see Dog Nose leaving the cabin.  Looking at The Bed, I saw a pile of lingerie and heels.  I sighed and thought to myself, he must be first this morning.  I saw that the color was of the lingerie on The Bed was black and knew that he would want me to wear a brighter lipstick with what he had provided for me to wear. 

 

I dried my hair quickly and then I put lotion on my arms and legs.  Next, I began putting on my makeup.  I had always been lucky in this and little was required.  A light skim of foundation, a touch of shadow on the eyelids and a dab of lipstick, much as I hated it.  Finished, I reattached the slave collar around my neck and then brushed out my hair.  Walking over to The Bed, I picked up the main garment that I would be wearing; I shook it out and saw that it was a sheer black babydoll top.  The cups that would cradle my breasts were split in half horizontally.  The bottoms were made out of a sheer black material which while providing some small measure of support for my full breasts, did not hide my nipples or aureoles.  The tops of each cup consisted only of three thin straps that ran vertically from the top half of the lower breast cup and met to form one strap three inches from where they had started.  It had thin lace straps that went over my shoulders and which dropped down in front to meet the straps which supported the half cups.  From there, the babydoll was the standard piece that went down to just below my pubic area.

 

I put the babydoll top back down and picked up the garter belt.  It was black and had lace designs on the wide belt, while the garters themselves were fairly plain and without detail.  The main thing I noticed was that this garter belt had three garters to hold up each stocking, rather than the more normal two.  Stepping into the garter belt, I pulled it up around my waist and then tightened it a little.  It had been fitted for the average woman and my waist was more slender than that.  Next I shortened each garter to make sure that there would be good tension on the top of my hose. 

 

I then opened the package containing the stockings and pulled them out.  The hose were black and very sheer, and had a slightly darker lacy top with fine designs that was about two inches wide.  This in turn was topped by a one inch strip of an even darker but a more plain lace of a heavier weight.  I looked again to make sure that I had missed nothing and was not surprised to see that no panties had been provided for me to wear.

 

I sat down carefully on the edge of The Bed (the large piece of rubber inside me ensured this) and rolled the stocking into a bunch in my hands as I had been taught, then reached down to my right foot and inserted my arched toes into the hose.  The plug inside my colon made bending over difficult, but I found later that to the others I managed to make even that look elegant. 

 

Working slowly and carefully to avoid snagging the hose, I pulled the stocking up my leg, first around my ankle and then up my calf.  Rocking my hands a little to get it over my calf and knee, and then using a gentler rocking/pulling motion after I had passed my knee, I finally got it all the way up on my thigh.  I stretched my leg out and tugged on the top of the nylon again to make sure that I had it up as high on my thigh as I could get it.  Finally I fastened the three garters on my right side to the heavier lace top of my stocking, one garter at a time. 

 

Finished with my right leg, I began the same procedure with my left leg.  When both my legs were finally encased in the nylons, I reached over and picked up the heels that had been provided by Dog Nose.  They were yet again another pair of strappy black sandals, but this time with five inch stiletto heels.  There were two thin straps that criss crossed over my toes and another strap that rose from around the side of the heels of my feet and which prevented me from slipping out of the sandals.  The straps around my heels were met in back by a thin ankle strap which then buckled around the front of my ankle and kept the sandals on my feet.  They were very sexy and I was surprised at his choices for what I had to wear.  As with my stockings and for the same reason, it was a little difficult to finally get my heels on my feet.

 

The heels on the sandals were so tall, and I was just so unfamiliar with wearing shoes that had extremely high heels that it took me a moment to be able to balance on them before I could move.  After a little practice, I was finally able to walk over to the dresser and as I had been instructed to do, I faced away from it; keeping my legs apart and knees locked, I bent over from the waist and wrapped both of my hands around my right ankle.  I slowly began to slide my hands up my leg, pushing any of the excess black nylon ahead of my hands, looking over my shoulder every now and then at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser to make sure that I wasn’t leaving any wrinkles or that my nylons were stretched or distorted in a way that caused either shadows or lighter or darker areas on my legs.  I found myself taking more time than usual to do this because I knew that Dog Nose liked my stockings to fit my legs perfectly, and for some unknown reason, it was important to me that my legs be flawless for him.

 

When my hands had finally slid to the top of my thigh, I unsnapped each garter one at a time and re-hooked it again after pulling my stocking up and pulling up any excess material from around my leg.  I then did this with my left leg.  While bent over I had kept my cheeks squeezed together to keep the plug in, but I eventually found this was really unnecessary since the hard rubber plug was tightly grasped by my anal sphincter.  This ensured that the hard rubber cylinder was never accidentally expelled from inside me.

 

Heels and stockings now on correctly, I slowly and carefully walked back to the side of The Bed.  Picking up the babydoll top, I raised both arms and pulled it over my head; it first covered my breasts and then I tugged it on down to my waist where it bunched a little.  It immediately cupped and comforted my breasts, giving each a little support which I sorely appreciated.  I pulled on the bottom of the babydoll and wiggled my hips, allowing it to settle snugly on my body.  I now went back to the mirror over my dresser and looked at myself. 

 

My slave collar matched my lingerie in color.  While I was embarrassed to be wearing clothing like this, I was pleased at how the babydoll top was tight over my breasts and hugged my flat belly beneath, emphasizing how my breasts jutted straight out from my rib cage.  Both my nipples and nipple rings were openly visible.  The top then tightly hugged my waist before it flared out over my hips, accenting my feminine shape and finally ending about two inches below where my shaved pubes would have been visible.

 

It was not long enough however, to hide much of the tops of my stockings; being just long enough to cover the darkest strip at the top of my hose where they caressed the very tops of my thighs.  I stood about 6 feet tall in these heels and even I knew that I looked spectacular and sexy as hell---I found myself thinking that the men would be pleased with me and this made me feel good.  Shaking my head to get rid of that incongruous thought, I reached over to the top of my dresser and picked up my nipple chain.  Cupping my right breast in my right hand, I freed my breast by pulling down on the half cup with my left hand.  I quickly attached the chain to the ring in my right nipple and then pulled and eased my breast back into the meager support of the cup.  I then freed my left breast from its tiny support and attached the remaining end of the chain to that nipple ring.  After refilling my left breast into its sustaining cup, I rearranged the nipple chain so that it hung symmetrically between my breasts.  I looked at the clock on the wall and realized that I had finished early. 

 

Walking over to the chair by the table, I gingerly sat down and waited for Dog Nose.  I’d noticed again how much I liked the tight, supporting feel of the stockings on my legs and the whispery sound that they made as I walked---the feel of wearing hose that needed garters for support seemed different from the panty hose I was used to.  Butterflies flew in my stomach as I waited and I tried to breathe deeply. 

 

What I was about to willingly do would take me over a new plateau; to a place in which I’d never been and had never before thought of going.  I thought about my future and knew that the men on this floating hellhole felt bound to force me to undertake a dark and strange journey.  I despised them…but I despised myself too.  I knew I was weak because I had capitulated to them to make the pain stop.  I was pitiful because I also knew that when I took this next step, I could never go back.  It didn’t matter whether I’d been forced here or not.  What mattered was my free will; and if I did this willingly, no matter what the reason, I was lost.  But my family would be safe.  And in the end, that was all that mattered.

 

***

 

She didn’t have too long to wait.  Bossman walked through the door as the clock reached 9; she leaped to her feet and assumed the posture of a slave yielding to her master.  All of the men piled in behind him and looked at her in silence.  Her face burned red, but she remained motionless.

 

Every man there immediately had the identical thought---that she was an absolutely magnificent sight; an exquisite young woman wearing only that which is made to reveal, not to hide; that which is made to emphasize and to accentuate, not to conceal or help to remain undiscovered.  In both her clothing and her posture, as unwilling as her presence might be on this boat, it was clear that she was making herself a gift, a present to the men in her cabin.

 

Bossman cleared his throat and pointed to one man, “It’s time you actually meet the men that will be training you.  I may not always be here.  You don’t need to know their real names, but you may call him “Jorge”.  He’ll act as me in my absence.”

 

Dog Nose, I thought to myself.  He was carrying a couple of things in a bag and held it by his side.

 

“Enrique.”  Elvis.  He’s the one that took me in the rear the first time.  He hurt me.

 

“Manuel.”  Number Three.  The bastard.  He’s The Evil One that took me from the back when I was standing, but tied so that I was bent over for him.  He’s the one that likes to use clamps on my breasts and who put the steel bar on the top of my feet---that just about crushed my feet.  The bastard.

 

“And Roberto.”  Number Four.  He’s a much bigger bastard than the rest; he’s the worst by far.  He’s the worst of all, he’s The Demon.  This is the one that made me wear the leather hood; that bound me and tied my ankles to the back of my thighs and lowered me onto that awful piece of wood.  This is one that made me want to die.  This is the one that is the most dangerous of all; I fear him.

 

***

 

I knew from the last couple of days that Enrique and Jorge would probably use me hard sexually---and a small part of my mind whispered that that was okay.  They seemed to be of average intelligence and of normal desires, and while exceedingly rough, I didn’t think they really wanted to hurt me as much as just enjoy all the sex they could with me.  And my karma was that it was I who was to be assisting these two in their efforts.  These were men that in my previous life, I would have never even had known existed, let alone have associated with them.  But as a woman, I was pretty sure that I understood them.

 

The Demon and The Evil One on the other hand, were mean hearted bastards, pure and simple.  They didn’t seem very smart, just brutal.  They LIKED having a woman to subjugate.  They liked HURTING WOMEN.  Not for training and not for punishment for doing wrong, but because hurting women made them feel good---it gave them a sense of power that was otherwise missing from their pitiful lives.  A stray thought from my subconscious surfaced; I knew that I didn’t understand their feelings towards women and I wondered if there was anything that I could do that might help them see women in a better light?  Shaking my head, I reminded myself that I had to remain focused here---these stupid extraneous thoughts would be my doom if I wasn’t careful.

 

I knew that while it would take luck and all of my willpower, I could probably physically and mentally survive anything that Enrique and Jorge did to me.  These two men could be manipulated; after all, they just wanted sex with me.  I couldn’t believe that it was me thinking like this; that if I was right, that if I willingly gave them as much sex as they wanted, everything would be okay; I’d be their whore, but that was all that they’d get from me.  And in the process, I might be able to turn one of them into if not a friend, then at least someone who might be a little sympathetic to my situation.

 

But even though there were times that I felt an odd, gentle compulsion to cooperate with them, The Evil One and The Demon still scared me too much.  I could see them getting too excited; getting carried away and maiming me, perhaps accidentally killing me.  That Bossman would probably kill them in turn didn’t seem to enter into their small minds.  They scared me.  I hoped that if Bossman ever left, Jorge could stand up to them.  I knew that if necessary, I was willing give both support and strength to Jorge.  With a tinge of panic, I pushed that inappropriate thought away.  What was the matter with me?

 

Bossman continued, “At all times, you will call each of these men your Master when in their presence.  You will always treat them with the respect that you give to me.  Today each man will be responsible for part of your training.  They will emphasize humility, submission and absolute obedience, various sexual techniques and tolerating pain.  Beginning tomorrow and from that point on, you’ll be expected to share any and all of this training with each man, at his command.”

 

While scary, I was not surprised by this command; I had in fact been expecting it.

 

He then turned and said, “Jorge, I don’t know how you do it, but you choose things for women to wear that make them more beautiful than life itself.  But with this one, you have outdone yourself.  Do as good job as her instructor.”  And with that all of the men except Jorge left the cabin. 

 

***

 

Bossman went up on deck and laid in a deck chair in order to get some early morning sun and sea breeze.  While he had positioned himself near a porthole into the cabin and could well hear what went on below, in reality he was deep in thought, remembering how his life had ultimately led to this. 

 

His mother had been a strange woman, in many ways much ahead of her time in the islands.  However, on the downside she’d also named him Wolfgang Bernhard Spring for Christ’s sake, after Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, the writer of Faust.  She’d loved to read Faust and even had memorized longs sections of it.  He’d loved his mother, but that didn’t prevent him from realizing that she might have been a little insane.  And even though in school he went by “Wolf”, his full name was one that was difficult to live down in the islands.  There had been many fights, but he’d survived…..

 

***

 

Jorge waited until the men had left, deposited the bag he had been carrying by the chair and then walked over to where Victoria was still standing; her posture seemingly making it clear that she had yielded control of herself to another.  He reached out and gently lifted her chin in order to look at her; she flinched only a little at his touch. 

 

Jorge surprised me when he said, “M, our relationship, it’s different now from before.  This morning, today, we start over.”

 

I raised my eyes for a second and looked at him, then lowered them again to gaze at my feet.  I knew that this was a little overtly coquettish, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

 

Jorge reached over to me and raised my face to look at him.  He was about six feet tall, but in my heels I was able to look him directly in the eyes.  I carefully kept my eyes blank as he leaned forward and kissed me fully on the mouth.  I was surprised at this and although I knew that I didn’t want to be overtly rude to any of the men, I pulled back from him a little.  In response to my move, he leaned in further resting his body against mine, touching me from thighs to groin to breasts, and he kissed me more deeply.

 

Pulling back, he said, “Woman, you have the soft mouth and men like that.  But you need to learn how to kiss a man, how to please a man with your mouth.  Right now, you kiss like you drive the trucks for a living.  We will start slowly today and you’ll concentrate on learning how to use what God gave you and which will ever put a man in your hands.” 

 

“Except us, of course.”  And he smiled.

 

I looked at him in surprise.  I felt I had never been much good at kissing and so had convinced myself that I didn’t enjoy it, but he seemed to like kissing me.  His voice, his manner, his affect, all were different from before.  It was like he was a different man. 

 

“I am going to teach you how to kiss, how to put your arms around a man and make his whole world seem like it revolves around you.  Your body is perfect and you look like you should be Helen of Troy.”

 

Since I had finally capitulated to Bossman and his crew, Jorge’s demeanor seemed to have totally changed.  I was amazed.  He sounded like a college professor, almost courtly and dignified.  But while I had realized that our relationship had changed, I did not understand that the context of our relationship had also been modified.  On the other hand, what he didn’t understand was that I still had the urge to castrate him with a dull spoon if ever given the opportunity.

 

“And then I will be teaching many other things too.  When you and I are finished, you will be a magnificent acquisition for any man.”

 

And with that last, I came back to earth with a thud.  I didn’t trust him at all, but I’d still almost gotten lost in his voice and his eyes.  I felt the stirrings of panic because I’d…..I’d just wanted to lose myself in them for some reason!  He wasn’t a particularly handsome man, but he wasn’t bad looking either.  He was in good shape, he’d shaved this morning and his teeth and breath were good.  But it was in his voice and eyes that he had his major weapons, and I’d begun to get lost in them.  That would not happen again, I vowed to myself.

 

He began to lead me to the chair and he noticed that my gait was stilted and that I moved my hips moved tightly.  When he asked me why, I told him about the black rubber plug that I still had inside me.  Jorge immediately told me to go into my bathroom and “…remove the contemptible thing”. 

 

“One of your beauty,” he declared to me, “should not be forced to prostitute yourself like that.” 

 

Hardly believing my ears, I went quickly into the bathroom and gingerly removed the plug.  I was finally getting used to its size and could not believe how empty its removal made me feel---but I was glad to have it out.  I also was thankful to him for letting me remove it in the privacy of the bathroom, rather than out in the cabin. 

 

***

 

Up on deck, Wolf thought back to the time that it had started for him.  Long ago, as a gangly teen, he’d been devastated by a young white woman that had visited his island and then left.  She was older than he, just starting her career as a CPA working for a large corporation in the US.  She’d come into his life first as a visitor to his island, then into his village and home and finally into his bed and his heart.  In the space of three short weeks she’d conquered him.  They’d spent every waking moment of every day together.  He thought she’d loved him and he knew that he’d loved her.  They’d talked about their future and what they would do together.  He’d go to school and they’d live here in paradise where everything was cheap and raise a large family. 

 

But when her vacation ended, she’d left.  Worse, she’d mocked him, his home and his mother.  She’d frankly told him that she could never, would never consider living here with him and that she had a career of which to think.  The worst was when she told him that “…she could never be seen with him in New York or LA or anywhere else that was civilized.” 

 

He’d never forgiven her the pain she had caused.  Years later when he’d finally gotten his degree in psychology and had begun to accumulate wealth, he’d had a private detective look her up.  She was still somewhat attractive, but he saw that she’d done him a favor by leaving him.  However, he still burned with anger at what she’d done and he vowed that he’d look until the day he died for a way to hurt her as she’d hurt him.

 

This much he believed to be true and he had found it out over thirty years ago: life sucks, and when your heart gets shredded—if not completely calcified---then you die.  That is, of course, unless someone offers you a new start at the precise moment in which the darkness allows you to totally re-think your moral code.  That was when he had been taken in by the “Old Man”.  It was he that had taught Wolf how to do what he did, how to observe and to plan, how to make back-up plans for back-up plans, how to safely sell white flesh.  Morals were all in the context he thought to himself, and I’ve never looked back.

 

***

 

When I finally returned from the bathroom, Jorge led me by the hand to the chair and after he sat down, he motioned me to sit on his lap.  When I did, he reached up and turned my face to his.

 

“We are going to work on how you kiss, be it man or woman.  This is a time of gentleness, a time of tenderness, above all, a time to be slow.  Slowly lick your lips for me.”

 

I did as ordered.

 

***

 

Wolf was thinking about his plans to conquer and subjugate Victoria, and he took a moment to play them back.  Submission as freedom, thirst as desire.  For the first four days, he’d played her like an instrument, gently caressing the notes at first, then building towards a frenzied crescendo.  She’d been consumed, and I had worshipped my prey. 

 

“Damn,” he wondered, “where did that last shit come from?”

 

Somewhere deep in hell Wolfgang Goethe was laughing his fat ass off.  Wolf thought of Victoria and knew that although he now looked at her as something more than just meat to be sold, he also knew that he WOULD own her BODY and her SOUL before he left the boat.  He would bind her soul to him.  Forever.  And even though he’d become one of those that he despised—weak and emotional; a hawk, or better yet, a wolf that had begun to feel just the slightest pity for his quarry---at the same time he would do anything necessary and nothing would sidetrack him from the pursuit and total domination of every part of the teenager he now controlled.

 

***

 

Jorge took Victoria’s hand and caressed it.  He leaned towards me and said, “When you kiss me, put your hands first on my chest.  Lean in to me and softly pull me towards you with your eyes.  Slowly, looking into my eyes, turn your head slightly and press your lips against mine.  Close your eyes.  Be a woman for once, not a callow teenager.  A woman of passion.  After a moment, open your lips slightly and invite me in, slowly, using your tongue as a welcome.  Breathe when he breathes and softly explore your partner’s mouth as he explores you.  Take your time.  There is plenty of time.  There is always plenty of time to make the love correctly.”

 

I was amazed.  This man had been so brutal with me two days ago and had seemed like the worst sort of pig.  This morning he truly seemed like he was one of the worlds most experienced and tender lovers.  For some reason, this gave me a quick, fuzzy good feeling.  He hadn’t used the word bitch, cunt, whore, or slut one time and it seemed like he’d morphed into a new personality with totally different mood and vocabulary—a persona much more suited for the language of training in love.  But what truly amazed me was that this morning he acted like what he’d done to me just days ago hadn’t happened---it seemed like he really thought we were starting over fresh—with no history between us.

 

I shook my head to clear it; it seemed more and more like strange thoughts just kept intruding into my consciousness, without warning.  But at the same time, I was also aware that I didn’t want to delay anything and offend Jorge by making it seem that I didn’t take him seriously; I took a couple of deep breaths to build my courage and to give myself time to remember what he’d said and finally I leaned forward into him.  His left hand was around my waist and his right hand slowly slid up from the inside of my right knee to the top of my thigh and then back down, always caressing me, always appreciating the slickness of my nylon clad skin.  I wanted to please him, so I slowly kissed him as I thought he’d instructed, taking care to use my tongue in what I thought was a sexy and enticing way.

 

Suddenly, he pushed me back and said, “No, no, no!  I said use your tongue to entice him to you, not like a matador using his sword to kill the bull.  Slowly, softly, with tenderness and much anticipation.  Again!”

 

After a short hesitation, I concentrated on slowly leaning into Jorge again, this time proceeding much more easily and with what appeared to be much more tenderness.  His hand resumed its caresses of my thigh and after a moment, it slowly explored upwards until it could go no further.  There he lightly probed the wetness that was me.

 

Suddenly, he pushed me back again and said, “You little vixen.  That last, it had more than a little promise in it.  You are a very bad girl!  Or a very quick student.  Which is it?”

 

I was surprised to feel myself breathing faster than normal.  I found myself feeling pleasure at his pleasure, but at the same time I knew that this was not what I wanted and certainly was not what I’d expected; I was unprepared to answer his question.  I reminded myself again that I would not, must not lose control.  This man, this situation was not to be trusted.

 

“I must decide,” he said as he pulled me towards him for a third time.  Slowly, he kissed me again and we both held it as our mouths and tongues met.  His hand was now between my legs and I found to my surprise that without being aware of doing so, I had willingly spread my thighs wide for him.  He softly explored me with his hand as our mouths became more familiar with each other. 

 

We kissed slowly and softly.  I was holding on to him, leaning into him and opening myself to him.  He continually touched me, running his hands over my thighs, between my thighs and then up my belly where he would cup and caress my breasts.  As I sat in his lap, I could feel his erection pressing into my thigh; his control amazed me. 

 

Finally, Jorge put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me more back on his knee, and then his hand went back to stroking my thighs and vagina.  He looked at me for a second and took a deep breath, “Today you begin your training in learning how to bring pleasure to men.  You are a very sensual woman, more so than you realize, and already I know from last night that you enjoy the sex.  That part will be easy for you.  It is surprising how many women find that part difficult after we have taken them, but for you that will not be the problem.  There will be some hard lessons for you to learn and there will be some not so bad; much of your training will be physical.  But you’re a big girl and will be able to handle the pain, of this I am sure.”

 

I looked away from Jorge as he said this.  I’d just changed my mind---I wouldn’t use a dull spoon to castrate him---but rather, I’d use a weed eater on all of them.  Although I had known that my life would be totally different once I committed to them, I hadn’t really had the time to think of many of the details yet.  His talk frightened me and his hand between my legs---the pleasure it brought frightened me too as it continued to do what it had been doing for so long.

 

“Much of your training’” Jorge continued, “will be learning how to leave aside your wants and needs, learning how to not only accept pain, but to actually need it, to desire it in order to define who you really are on the inside.  I have taken women like you for over thirty years, and I know you better than you know yourself, girl.  And what I know right now is that eventually you’ll learn to absorb what we give to you.  Punishment is essential in helping a pleasure slave like you get to better know your Master.  You will learn to take in the pain offered by your Master, because you will finally figure out that by doing this THAT is what will please your Master.  From that point on, for the rest of your life, giving your Master pleasure is what will give you pleasure.  Remember that!  And if his bringing you a little pain is the price to pay to make him happy, then you will learn to pay it gladly.  A good, trained pleasure slave that is truly submissive ALWAYS wants to please her Master.  Once you learn this, it will make you happy, it will make you whole—you will surprise yourself in this, I have no doubt.”

 

This frightened me even more.  I had thought at first that he had reminded me of my grandfather—I blushed at the thought of making love to the old man that had died long ago.  But as Jorge talked, my reality came back to me and I knew that I had been fooling myself with this man.  He was not necessarily a cruel man, but he was willing to use cruelty to achieve his goals.  The odd thing was that part of me knew that this was acceptable to me.  Right now, I knew that I was his goal.  He had an agenda from which he had never swerved; making me the trained property of another man.  While charming now, he would do anything necessary to be able to turn a finished product over to my new Master.  I vowed that I would work to acquire the polish on the outside that he wanted me to have, but that I would also never change on the inside where the true “me” existed.

 

Jorge interrupted my train of thought, “The Master/slave relationship is not what you might have thought it to be.  Fiction is always less interesting and more mundane than reality.  There are many types of Masters.  Some actually own their females, as your Master will.  Others develop an equitable relationship in which each voluntarily pleases the other.  Some Masters are drawn to this life because they like to give pain exclusively, others are more interested in the give and take aspects of a relationship which is in every way normal except for the boundaries to which both have agreed.”

 

“As a purchased pleasure slave, yours will not be a consensual relationship.  You will be kept by your Master wherever and however he chooses to keep you.  You will no doubt however, eventually develop a relationship with him.  All good Masters learn what their slaves are like and use that to strengthen their relationship.  I guarantee that you are going to a good owner.”

 

Jorge’s hand continued to stroke the inside of my thigh and to play with my clitoris; although in my mind I didn’t want it to be this way, I still was wet between my legs for him and part of me whispered that this was as it should be.  The more he fuzzed my clitoris, the more bothered I became.  This was not the almost virginal freshman college girl, I thought to myself, that had been forcibly brought here a few short days ago.  What had happened to me?

 

Jorge’s voice broke into my meditations, “Once a slave and her Master have been together a little while, they will develop a relationship that is unique to them.  I will tell you this now; I will be watching how you handle yourself with the men on this boat.  That will be a sign as to how you will be with your Master.”

 

“But I warn you.  Soon, you will come to think you know us.  And you will think that to know us is to be able to take….liberties.”  Jorge had seemed to have difficulty in finding the right word.  “You are immature.  Believe it or not, you will soon adjust to the routine that is laid out for you here; you will become comfortable with the situation, and you will come to think that it will be okay to play silly games to fool us, maybe act a little challenging or even a little spoiled---for that is what you are now.  You have been privileged, pampered and spoiled.  That all ends now!  You may fool us some of the time, but you won’t be able to fool us all of the time.” 

 

“The relationship between a submissive pleasure slave and her Master should never be reduced to games by the willfulness of a child.  There will come a time when you not only WON’T be afraid of being hurt, but you will seek out pain.  I guarantee it!  When this time comes and you need attention, then you will ask your Master.  If you want to be hurt by your Master, then let him know.  He will decide if what you have is a need or a desire, and then he’ll choose whether or not to fulfill it as HE desires.  That is the key thing, doing things as HE desires to do.  I repeat, do not play games with your Master. 

 

“Now, my dear M,” he said in a soft voice, “we are going to change directions here for a moment.  You’ve been bad, most bad; a very willful slave that has not been following my orders at all.  You do know that you need to be punished?”

 

I almost shook my head in bewilderment.  It was like he had gone into a role playing game or something and had assumed yet another persona.  Truly at a loss, I replied, “Master, I have done everything you have asked me to do.  Why do I need to be punished?”

 

Jorge grinned as he ran his hand over my right knee, his hand apparently reveling in the slippery feel of my leg, “Well, maybe you haven’t been too bad, but you still need to be punished before we go any further.  Stand up and lay down over my lap.”

 

I looked at him, “Over your lap, Master?”

 

“Do not make my repeat myself, slave.  Over my lap---NOW!”

 

Hurriedly, I stood up and then laid myself over both of his knees with my head to his left.  I looked up at him with questioning eyes, and with that Jorge reached down and pulled a small riding crop out of the sack and put it next to him.  He reached down with his hands and brought both of my wrists up high behind my back and was able to then pin both of my wrists together and hold them with only his left hand.

 

I was looking back down at the floor when Jorge gave me a light smack on the buttocks with his right hand.  I yelped and jumped with surprise at the blow; but I also knew it was not one meant to hurt me, but rather was a warm up, a taste of what was to come. 

 

Jorge slowly ran his hand over the cheeks of Victoria’s ass and thought to himself how truly beautiful she was.  He’d been in a bar one night following her in Cancun when he’d overheard one woman remark to another that she had an ass like a horse.  It was not meant as an insult, but a compliment.  Her ass truly was gorgeous to see, and he felt privileged to be able to see her naked like this. 

 

He continued running his hand over her body, beginning at the back of her left thigh just above her knee and slowly sliding his hand up the back of her stockinged leg until he reached her ass, at which point he spanked her again.  This time he hit her hard enough to leave a small red mark.  She made no sound this time, but just jumped on his lap again.

 

Now he put his right hand between her legs from the back and cupped her vagina for a moment, after which he took his middle finger and slowly inserted it in her asshole, where he left it for a second.  Then he pulled his finger out of her and his hand wandered back down the inside of her thigh and back up, all the while moving in slow, caressing motions.  When he next hit her ass, he used a lot more force and she cried out in pain.  She turned her bewildered face back up to him, but never tried to get off of his lap.  He liked the fact that she had submitted to this as he desired—it showed much promise for her.

 

“M, my dear,” he purred, “you are just in the beginning of the training.  I know that you want me to stop.  But why on earth would I want to make the stop now?”  She did not reply, but just let her head hang down and looked at the floor again.

 

Finally, after five minutes of spanking her with his hand and caressing her lower body, he picked up the riding crop.  The first blow to her ass with this brought her head up with a real scream of pain and tears to her eyes.

 

She still lay on his lap without any struggles, but she shook her head ‘no’ and was vocal.  “Please, Master,” she begged, “you’re hurting me.  Please.  Please.”

 

Jorge replied, “You knew exactly what I was talking about when we talked about pain.  You will lay here and accept what your Master tells you that you need.  You well know that if you try to escape the cane, you will only wind up paying a heavier price in the end.”  And with this he laid into her again.  This time, the crop left a sharp red welt across both of the cheeks of her ass and evoked an involuntary scream of pain from her accompanied by another arch of her body on his lap.  As she looked up at him this time, unshed tears sparkled in her eyes.

 

This went on for another ten minutes.  Jorge continued to keep my wrists pinned high on my back with his left hand, while with his right he either used the crop on me or put it down and stroked my body.  He hit me on my lower back, my rear and on the backs of my upper thighs just above where my stockings ended. 

 

Once he laid the crop parallel to the crack of my ass and then slapped my tender asshole.  I couldn’t help myself---I howled and arched up making my highest bow yet on his lap before I finally lay back down again.  Every now and then he would stop and stroke the back my legs, fondle my vagina or slowly stick a finger in my asshole.  These moments when I knew that his free hand was otherwise occupied with my body brought moans of relief from me.

 

With every stroke of the crop, my head would arch up and I begged, “Oh God.  Owww.  Please Master.  Ooowww.  Oh God, it hurts.  Please.  Stop.”

 

Towards the end, she had fallen somewhat off of his lap and more onto his knees.  Her buttocks now were a uniform rosy red offset nicely by a series of more dark red welts.  But what he found amusing was that when he had began using the crop in earnest, her pelvis had almost immediately begun writhing on his lap and by the end of the spanking, she was unconsciously grinding her pussy into his right knee in a slow, rhythmic, totally sensual way.

 

For me, the spanking at first was not such that it caused much pain.  But it embarrassed me and I thought that there was something wrong with the idea of being spanked as an adult; yet I could still see where the idea of that wrongness was somehow at the same time also deliciously erotic---it somehow pleased me Master and this made me feel good.  I accepted the thought that my submission to the pain that he brought me was what was giving him pleasure.  I didn’t necessarily enjoy the pain, but at the same time I couldn’t help but enjoy the way he’d explore my body after he’d spanked me. 

 

It was here also that I found a new understanding of myself; I found that I had the ability to somehow separate my body from my mind.  I discovered that my body’s natural responses to a physical stimulus (his hand between my legs) were entirely acceptable to Jorge.  But more important to me, I found that there was a part of me that was always able to step back and look at everything objectively, a part that never seemed to lose control.  If I was to beat these men, I would have to make sure that I never lost control again.  I may never escape them, but that didn’t mean that I would always be at their mercy either.

 

These feelings of semi-eroticism fled when Jorge finally began to lay into me in earnest with his riding crop.  He would hit me and then wait, sometimes touching my body, other times he would not.  At the end, I was begging him for real to stop hitting me.  I hated being spanked like this, but Jorge’s words went round and round in my head.  I knew that I would have to learn to pretend to like being hit this way just for my Master’s pleasure.  While it was my rational mind that told me to eventually begin grinding myself into Jorge’s knee to distract him a little, my mistake had been in not realizing how good too, it would feel to me.

 

***

 

Up on deck, Wolf listened to Jorge work with Victoria and he was pleased.  While she may fight it, the girl’s submissive genes were dominant he grinned to himself.  He’d felt for a long time that her make-up would drift that way.  She’d make a beautiful prize when completely trained.

 

***

 

In the end, all I knew was that my ass hurt and my pussy was wet, and I didn’t care who knew.  Jorge may be over fifty and I only nineteen, but I knew that my body had still responded to his stimuli just as we both knew it would.  Jorge too must have felt much the same way, because after another five minutes of spanking me he finally gently pushed me away from him and off of his lap.  With difficulty he stood up and led me to The Bed. 

 

“You,” he said, “are already unclothed.  You will please to undress me.”

 

With that, I began to unbutton his shirt.  When done, I helped him take it off.  Then I unzipped his pants and unsnapped them, letting them drop to the floor around his ankles.  I knelt and removed them from him along with his sandals.  Standing up, I slowly inserted my fingers around the tops of his underwear and tugged them down over his hips, letting them drop to the floor.  I had gone into a slight crouch to remove his underwear.  As I let go of his underwear and stood upright, my right hand trailed ‘accidentally’ over his erection—the touch between us was electric.  He stepped out of his briefs and then led me towards the side of The Bed.

 

***

 

Having watched the news that morning, Wolf was on the verge of regretting somewhat his decision to give Victoria the TV.  He’d watched the coverage of Victoria’s kidnapping and he’d finally realized that it seemed to stay in the headlines rather more than he’d anticipated.  Much of this was due to her Aunt Samantha.  She was attractive, media savvy and driven by love for Victoria in her crusade to recover her missing niece.  If M were ever to become aware of Samantha’s inordinate ability to play the media and keep them focused on her, he feared this might slow her responses to his training regime. 

 

He’d watched Samantha on numerous television interviews and had finally begun to get a handle on her.  When giving television interviews, he knew that here was a woman who was fully—he might even say gleefully aware of how she changed a room when she walked into it.  Tall and lean in a designer jeans sort of way, blessed with the grace of a dancer, long blonde hair flowing in liquid billows that somehow achieved slow motion while you watched, explosively kinetic green eyes that appeared to run in the family and flirtatious lips that appeared equally comfortable with a coy grin or a pensive pout.  Her lips were what ordinary men saw when their dreams crossed over the line from legal to illegal, naturally swollen with a pouty attitude and framed with dimples that misled you to believe in a sweetness somewhere underneath. 

 

But here was a strong woman, not a sweet one.  Most painfully beautiful women are anything but complicated.  But Samantha was.  She was a walking enigma.  He’d had her circumstances on Cancun investigated thoroughly and knew that it was far too dangerous to try to acquire her, so he’d given up on Victoria’s Aunt Samantha.  But M must never know that much of his threat to her family was bluff or he would lose the leverage that he needed for her initial training.  But he thought to himself, once he’d had M for a month, she would be his for good.

 

This Samantha is a dangerous woman to us, he thought to himself.  Although he had experienced it himself only fleetingly a long time ago, a smart man realizes the strength of love as a motivator.  There are many different kinds of love; sappy love, romantic love, flippantly misrepresented love (“I love ice cream!”) and there is lust.  But in these modern days, rarely is love considered as a galvanizer, as a world-changer, as a bond or a purpose or as a belief.  Great people that are remembered are almost never motivated by self-interest or even pride, but rather are often motivated by love to do great things. 

 

Through it all, he knew that this aunt lived for her niece.  This aunt is the one that has kept her story alive on TV and in the newspapers.  M is her motivation and her purpose.  He repeated to himself, this aunt is a dangerous woman to us.  She is strong, and what a great acquisition she would be.  But he knew that that would never happen.  And with that, he put her out of his mind forever. 

 

***

 

Jorge’s body was in good shape.  While he was not as large as Wolf, he was hard and ready to take her with what he knew was more than enough to do the job.  Helping her onto the bed, Jorge slowly got on his knees beside her; she on her back and he down by her feet.  Glancing down, he saw that her painted toenails were visible through her sheer black hose---for some reason he loved that look.  He slowly reached down and picked up her left foot.  Jorge wanted to see if there were any spots on her legs that were sensitive to a man’s touch.  Gently slipping his hand around her ankle, he undid the buckles of her shoe and let it drop to the bed. 

 

He’d always loved small, dainty feet.  He looked at her foot and then bent down and planted his lips on her sole.  M squirmed, but he kissed her foot even harder.  The feel of the nylon was driving him crazy and he thought that he could detect a response in M’s body.  It seemed that she DID like to have her feet kissed, so he gave the sole of her foot a long lascivious lick with his tongue.  Her foot arched involuntarily and he knew that she had liked it no matter what she might say.  Next he moved his lips up and slowly kissed her toes before he moved up to her ankles.  He kissed her there, then continued running his hands and lips all over the lower part of her leg.

 

Taking his time, he worked his way up her leg.  Gently pushing her knees apart, he lifted her left leg until her toes pointed at the ceiling.  Glancing down, he noticed that the sole on the high heel that he had removed was new and unblemished by walking on gravel or concrete.  He smiled to himself since he knew that her high heels would always look the same, getting little wear on the bottoms since her feet would be in the air most of the time when she wore them.

 

He was finally half way done with his explorations and had let his mouth finally come to rest inside the back of her knee.  He kissed her there softly and then suddenly gave the back of her leg a long, loving lick with his tongue.  Jorge saw the visible shiver that ran down her body and knew that parts of her legs were going to be very sensitive to his manipulations; just imagine, he thought to himself, how sensitive they might be if she weren’t wearing stockings.  Oh well, he thought to himself with a small smile, we all have to make trade-offs in our business. 

 

He wondered about the back of her knees.  After he’d worked her there with his fingertips and then his tongue for a moment, she hadn’t seemed to react to his touch so he moved on.

 

He wondered about the inside of her legs just above her knees.  Slowly, ensuring that he gave them the proper attention that they deserved, he began to work on the insides of both thighs.  The feel of her nylons on his hands and fingertips was a totally sensual experience.  She’d inhaled so quickly when he began his work there that she’d actually hissed as she drew her breath in.  After a couple of minutes, she was even moister between her legs and her breathing rate had increased significantly.  She definitely liked a man massaging and licking and kissing the insides of her thighs and he knew that she was now ready for him in that magic area where her thighs met.  But he wanted more before he went there.

 

Jorge now moved even with Vicki and laid on his right side so that he could look at her.  He slowly caressed her left breast, eventually freeing it from its non-existent confines.  He leaned over and kissed it and then took much of her breast in his mouth.  Her nipple was at the back of his throat and as he sucked gently, he also worked it with the back of his tongue.  There was a salty, yet sweet taste unique to her breast that he just loved.  She had the kind of nipples that a man could suck on for days and never tire of having them in his mouth.

 

Although he generally liked his female slaves to be ringed on both the nipples and the labia, he found that the large bar through Victoria’s nipple annoyed him a little as he worked his tongue over her flesh.  He knew that Enrique had pierced her upon Wolf’s orders, but he himself would never have desecrated like that a temple dedicated to beauty such as this teenager’s body was.

 

At the same time his mouth was softly enjoying her breast, his left hand was again caressing Victoria’s body.  He started low on the inside of her left thigh and as his hand moved up, he again enjoyed the smooth, polished feel of her nylons on his fingers and palm.  Reaching the top of her stockings, he played with the coarser lace at the top before running his fingers under her nylon and stroking the firm flesh of her thigh.  After slickly sliding down the inside of her thigh again, his hand then began its sensuous journey back up her other leg, suddenly ending where her legs met.  He stroked her there for a moment before putting one finger inside her.  While his hand and fingers confirmed that she was wet and ready for him, he was still not yet ready to take her.

 

My hands both went up on their own and cradled his head upon my breast and I couldn’t help it, I moaned with each touch of his hand on the lips of my vagina.  I could feel him down there and knew that it was only right that my body should be responding to his touch.  I knew that my labia were both tender and engorged at the same time and that the walls of my vagina were secreting the love fluid that would make it easy for him to completely penetrate me---why did I find myself thinking that this was the way it should be?  His mouth worked on the fully half of my breast that was buried in his mouth and it was driving me crazy.  Soon, he started sucking more hard, flicking my nipple with his tongue. 

 

Eventually, the suction from his mouth became almost painful in its intensity and I couldn’t tell if I loved it or hated it, if my breast was just tender from his attention or if he was actually beginning to hurt me.  He must have realized that his attention to my left breast was becoming too much because he released it from his mouth and looked up at me with a lazy smile.  He then turned his head and used both of his hands to release my right breast from the miniscule cup that confined it.  As he leaned over to take this one into his mouth, his left hand again slowly traveled back down, fingers lightly trailing over my stomach and finally onto my vagina, where he changed the positioning of his hand so that he now completely cupped all of my moistness in his hand.  His middle finger slowly broke from the rest of his fingers and descended into me, probing with gentle movements of his wrist. 

 

I still couldn’t help myself—my body demanded it.  A small groan escaped from me and I arched my hips quickly, making his finger disappear into me like a knife cutting into hot butter.  Without meaning to and watching almost as from a distance, I felt myself draw my thighs firmly together, bring my feet closer to my buttocks and raise my knees, all the better to keep his hand firmly clamped in place.

 

“Not yet,” he cautioned her.  “Not yet.  You get what you want when I’m ready to give you that pleasure.”

 

He knew that was making her insane with his slow fingers and demanding mouth.  She whined in frustration and tried to get his mouth away from her breast, but he was merciless.  Suddenly she got what she desired as she came in a mini-orgasm that wouldn’t stop.  She just came without warning and then finally it was over. 

 

Jorge was annoyed with himself because he hadn’t planned on letting her cum for awhile yet.  But she had just exploded beneath his mouth and hands.  He knew that he would have to learn her body better, in order to more completely control her.

 

She relaxed her thighs that were still holding his finger inside her, and he began his insistent movements with his hand all over again; he could see the fire started building up inside her again.  Finally, he let her breast fall out of his mouth and looked at her.  Both of her nipples were a wet puckered red and stood proudly erect.  Bossman had told him about the flush that developed on her breasts and chest when she had lost herself in a total orgasm; he saw that her skin there was still of normal color.  He also knew that she had truly climaxed; there was no way that she could have faked it—but at the same time, somehow she’d reserved something for herself, somehow kept herself from going all the way.  So she still wanted to keep something from him, after all that he’d done to her this morning?  This was going to be more challenging than he had first thought.

 

He reached down and pushed her thighs apart again and then slowly climbed between them.  He looked down again at her waiting, out-thrust pelvis and his hand penetrated her pussy in unrestrained eagerness.  His finger slid up inside her, swirling and groping, sometimes pressing that delicious spot just behind her pubic bone.

 

Victoria’s eyes were closed as she softly sighed, “Oh, Master!  Oh God, that feels so good!”  She had read about it, but never believed it before now.  Jorge had found her G-spot and was slowly working it to her great sexual gratification.  His fingers kept taking her higher and higher.  As he touched her there, she felt physically like a time-lapse film of a flower opening its petals---every time she could think rationally, another petal would open inside her pelvis and her body would be claimed from her all over again.  She knew that this man was dangerous to her and yet, at the same time she wished that she could somehow prolong this delicious moment for both of them as her hands fluttered helplessly by her side while his fingers did their magic work inside her pelvis.

 

Jorge ignored her and continued to work her with his hands as she lay opened to him on the bed like a flower spreading its petals; her hands now flat beside her hips again.  Her knees willingly opened wide as he nudged between them.  He gripped his cock and swung it softly upwards against her pussy, making a wet thump that sent shocks from her swollen labia throughout her body.  He swung it again and again until she seemed somehow used to the sensation.  Sometimes, he held it against her clit and drew slowly backwards giving her what he knew would be a wonderfully pleasing sense of friction between her lips.

 

He moved up further and her thighs spread willingly even further for him as he sank onto the mattress between them.  He remembered the times that he had raped and sodomized her and knew regret.  Not because he had done it, but because he knew that to take a magnificent female like this in that way was a blasphemy.  But he’d had a job to do and he’d done it then as he was doing it now.  Jobs requirements may change, but the journeyman’s skills remain forever.

 

As Victoria writhed beneath him, Jorge slowly moved his hips and finally made the first thrust into her body.  It was not the full bore plunge that her body desired and which his genetic coding screamed for, but the restrained move dictated by his years of experience.  He continued his short penetrating strokes, slowly building up into more full bodied moves that involved his whole body instead of just his hips.  With this move, he now slid over her sweaty torso with each in and out thrust of his hips.  She responded magnificently and even though untrained, her body and her moves brought to mind what he read of the genteel decadence of the French Court of 300 years in the past.  It was a sublime feeling to have the honor of taking a woman like this.

 

As Jorge continued his deliberate moves that always promised deeper and deeper fulfillment in just a moment but which never delivered, I found myself again losing all control of my physical being just as I had when ridden by Bossman.  That’s the only way I could describe it, I was being ridden by an erotic master again and even though I instinctively fought against losing control, he had finally mastered my now willing body.  But this time, I was mentally prepared to be dominated and even as my body reacted honestly to his moves, I desperately maintained that tiny point of brilliant white diamond hard restraint in my mind.

 

He slowed down and then stopped moving, keeping her fully penetrated, but never giving her an excess of pleasure.  He stayed this way upon her for a minute and then began all over again.  Twice more he did this, taking her body up the crest of the volcano, but refusing to allow her to erupt.  This was an important part of her training in submission; she must learn that the will of her Master took precedence over her needs, over any needs but his own.  Finally, he began moving in a strong, animal-like fashion and it was obvious even to Victoria that she was being ridden hard, that he was riding her all the way this time, taking her to the crest and allowing her, no, forcing her to go over it.

 

She exploded beneath him again, slamming her hips up to meet his evermore urgent thrusts into her, subconsciously synchronizing her moves so that she ensured maximum penetration of his erection into her.  When she reached her last and most urgent climax, she arched up to grind her loins into his and used her magnificent ass to keep them both off of the mattress for over a minute.  After a final couple of quick hip thrusts into him, she crashed back onto the mattress with a heartfelt groan of pleasure and laid still beneath him; her lungs giving great shuddering heaves as she replenished the air that she had just used in her joust with him.  Her climax had been real--she’d been his willing whore this time.

 

Jorge could feel her vaginal muscles still contracting upon his cock in an orgy of sensations and he whispered into her ear, “Slowly my dear, slowly.  Too fast and you won’t be ready for the next one.”

 

I heard his voice as from a distance and couldn’t believe what he was saying.  His erection was still a great rigid bar buried deeply inside my belly and he had not yet cum.  While our bodies were both slick with sweat and we may have touch from chest to groin, we were physically connected only by his manhood.  He began moving his hips again and despite the exhaustion of my body and its weakness, despite my unwillingness to respond, I felt my body beginning to answer his again.  This time he did most of the moving and he was an expert.  He rode me low and went for deep penetrations that explored the depths of my womanhood.  He filled me and rode me high and used against me the friction of his cock rubbing on my clit—and it felt great.  Actually, it felt too good!

 

***

 

Finally, in the darkest recesses of her mind, she knew what had happened to her last night!  She now knew why she’d lost all control.  It was her clitoris that had betrayed her.  While the men on this boat had manipulated her and massaged her clit, they had not done so to the exclusion of other acts---she knew now that they hadn’t done it long enough to have the full effect on her reluctant body.  But last night, Bossman had spent more than enough time working on her; it was this that had allowed him to be the first on the craft to enjoy the full consequences of his actions on her body.

 

Victoria was a normal, healthy young woman and had masturbated many times.  Sometimes she used her fingers, sometimes she used a vibrator.  But she’d always found that her best orgasms by far occurred when she came with clitoral manipulation.  The only problem was that it always took a long, long time when she did herself this way, and it almost never occurred when she manipulated herself with just her fingers.  For some reason it had to be something other than her own fingers touching her before she truly lost control.

 

Just now, the position that Jorge had assumed on her had resulted in some intensely erotic sensations.  And while she had this confusing urge to please him by responding as she knew he wanted, at the same time she also knew that if he’d continued that motion for much longer, she’d have been lost.  Again!  She knew that she couldn’t let them do this to her again.  This was a moment of extreme danger to her and she knew that she had to somehow regain control again; to make sure that he hadn’t realized what he’d almost done to her.

 

***

 

Making my legs writhe around his lower body in apparent helplessness, every now and then I “accidentally” hooked him with my remaining high heel.  He never seemed to notice, but he was soon distracted enough to change positions on my pelvis again.  Once I had gotten him away from my most sensitive area, I began to try take over.  I arched my hips and reached under to grab his ballsack as it moved in with his thrust; once I had it, I began manipulating him with my fingers.  While this gave me a slight sense of regret as I knew that I had just denied him his goal, it made me feel good when I heard him groan in pleasure at my move.  I knew that if he allowed me to continue, he’d shoot his load into me a lot sooner than he wanted. 

 

But he made me stop by pulling my hands away from him that way.  I still moved my hands continually, from being around his neck forcing him to kiss me, to my fingers digging into his back and shoulders to finally grabbing his ass with both hands and pulling on him, as if trying to drag another inch out of his cock and into me.

 

Finally, he allowed it to go on again and in minutes, we burst together.  I truly had a wonderful series of orgasms while pierced by him.  I felt him as he lifted his body off of me while keeping my hips pinned and my vagina still fully penetrated; the weight of his body finally preventing me from arching my hips as I so loved to do.  I watched his face as he held himself up by his left hand while his right hand slowly explored my belly, pressing hard against it to feel my abdominal muscles contract and then release with each of my orgasms. 

 

At the end, he had been hammering into me as if he wanted to kill me, like a maniacal torturer; suddenly the intense feeling of pain/pleasure was complete from my cervix to my clitoris, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.  My cries seemed to quicken him and he gave a final lunge that almost cleaved me in half, and I gave one final wail of anguish and of satisfaction, and then it was over.

 

When he finally allowed me to cum this time, it was real, oh God, was it real.  Jorge was a skilled lover and I enjoyed his touch, the feeling of his semen jetting into me and the usual atomic explosion of heat at the top of my vagina—this was a feeling that I was beginning to enjoy.  But I knew that what he wanted was my total subjugation to him, a total loss of control and this I wasn’t willing to give to him---somehow I had maintained that minor presence in my mind which still allowed me to watch and to judge his reaction to my body. 

 

As Victoria’s body finally began to quiet beneath him, he told her, “Tighten onto me with the muscles in your vagina, then release.  Tighten, and then release.  Go ahead, tighten slowly and then let go.  Concentrate on me, on pinching my cock and keeping it.  Keeping it inside you forever.  Concentrate.”

 

“Milk me; you desire every drop that is inside me.  Use your muscles to grab me and then let go, grab me and let go.  Milk me for every drop.  Aaaahhhh.  That is the way.”

 

She was grabbing him with her vagina and it seemed that she stroked the entire length of his penis with her velvet fist.  But at the same time, Jorge looked down at her and saw that she still did not have the flush that he needed to see on her chest.  She was an amateur, a prisoner forced to perform.  He was a professional and as such, would not allow himself to be deterred by a captive amateur, but he still was glad that Wolf had given him this apparently foolproof telltale about her body.  He lay on Victoria for a minute to catch his breath and plan his next assault on her body; ever the gentleman in bed, he kept his weight on his elbows and off of her.  After a moment, he commented, “That felt very good, very professional.  Are you sure you’re not an expert, my dear?”

 

“No, Master,” she answered with the slight smile that women the world over have always used when the man they have just fucked has asked them a stupid question like “How was I?”  “I’ve only ever had one man before last night and now.”

 

“I find that remarkable,” he replied.

 

He changed positions, making her roll slightly onto her left side.  He lifted her right leg and then moved between her thighs, dropping her right leg down so that the inside of her silky thigh was now draped over his left hip as he faced her.  He instructed Victoria to put her hands down between his legs and to begin stroking his still moist, flaccid cock and his testicles.  At the same time, this position also gave him unprecedented access to her pussy and he began to stroke her moist clit and rub her wet labial lips with his right hand while his left hand casually stroked the top of her stockinged right thigh.  He never noticed that every time he stroked her to the top where her labia met, she would stop talking or moving when his fingers moved over her clit.

 

“M, you seemed more innocent than most of the females that have ended here.  Psychologically, you started in a place much different from the usual women we take and whom are destined to be enslaved for a man’s pleasure; most of them have seemed much more…’common’ than you.  But you are here; forced to be with numerous men in ways that must often seem distasteful or painful to you, and yet mentally you have adjusted as fast as any of the other women that we’ve groomed before you.  You really are a natural lover of men, but you just don’t know that of yourself yet.  You will quickly learn to love what your Master does to you.  This I swear is true; your Master is a successful business man and I have had a large sample from which to compare.”  He had a little smile on his face as he said the last to her.

 

I slowly turned to him and looked at him for a moment before I said, “Master; I’ll do what I have to do to save my family.  In awhile perhaps I’ll be able to say that I’ve found a new life that I can somehow accept.  Maybe I’ll even believe that if I say it enough.  But I’ll never say that I enjoy it or love it.”

 

I looked him in the eye and felt a moment of slight doubt even as I raised my chin a little defiantly, “Master, I’m not trying to challenge you, but you can’t make me say that and I refuse to believe it.  All I want is to be free and just left alone.  I want to do what I want to do.  And have no one to tell me what I have to do.  You know,” I looked at Jorge with a wan smile, “white slavery isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

 

He looked at her sharply and said, “M, you still don’t understand---you don’t get to make choices for yourself anymore---and nothing’s going to change that.  But what you’ve just said tells me there are still layers to you that you protect from all others.  Unusual for a slave of your limited experience, after what you have been through, you are still trying to keep something back, keep something small hidden for yourself.  Aren’t you?” 

 

Shocked at his insight, my eyes slid sideways to meet his gaze, “I’m not sure what you mean Master.” 

 

He gazed into my eyes as he responded, “You understand me perfectly, I think.  You are one that needs to be mistreated in love.  You are the type of woman that will always from now on seek out angry and aggressive lovers.”

 

I flared, “Does any decent woman want to be taken by force against her will by strangers?  Does any woman ever want to be drugged, kidnapped, dragged somewhere, tied down, branded and sexually assaulted unless she’s mentally sick too?”  

I continued my protests, “I’m not what you think I am.  I’m nothing like that…..”

He interrupted, “You have no idea what we think you’re like, and frankly, unless it affects the way you respond here, we don’t care what you’re like inside.  It’s what we turn you into that interests us---it’s your actions only that have our interest.  That is our, and your, new reality.”

The word reality sank into my like a dagger.  “Please, Master.  Whatever you see on the outside, whatever you may think you saw that night at Charlie’s, don’t believe any of it.  It misrepresents me completely.  I’m an ordinary, normal girl on the inside, with the same fears and hang-ups and problems as most women.  I just happen to look a certain way and may have sometimes presented myself a certain way.  But the person that YOU believe I am is false, a façade, with absolutely no substance in reality.  

“Master, I’m a boring freshman college student.  I may look a certain way, but it’s an invention, something that I’ve used those few times that I wanted to be friends with a boy.  But I hate to disappoint you when I say that what most men wish me to be is not what I am.  I’m no different from any woman you’ve ever known.  You’ve got to face it; you must tell the Master.  I led a quiet, decent life at school---I am a DECENT girl.  And as for men, I feel towards them the way that most normal women feel.  Maybe one day I’ll find a man who cares for me as much as I care for him.  If I find him, I’ll want to marry him.  I haven’t had anything to do with men, the way the way you think, in over a year.  I’m interested in my own maturity and identity.  I want to know who I am.  I want to belong to me.  I want to be free, just the way you do.”

Jorge looked at me with a serious expression, “Forget about your ‘choices’, M.  Forget about finding a young man to marry.  You’ll be given to men that are powerful and wealthy and you’ll do exactly as they wish you to do.  You won’t be marrying any of them; probably none will even want to really get to know you.  It’s your innocence that will inflame them and they’ll make you perform things for them the likes of which you have yet to dream, even in your worst nightmare.  Later, after your innocence has fled, plucked like an expensive orchid, they’ll just want your body.  And like I said, you’ll do exactly as they wish; you’ll do ANYTHING they wish.  I do not wish to be coarse, but that’s what you are to them, their beautiful fantasy ‘fuck girl’ come true.”

 

As he had instructed me, I had been slowly stroking Jorge’s cock beginning at the top and pulling the skin down tautly from its circumcised head.  At one point, I had gotten emotional in my exchange with him and I had stopped my stroking motion and just gripped him as I talked.  This quickly drew an annoyed glance from him and as soon as I had realized what I had done, I resumed caressing him again.  “Master, you are so wrong in what you think about me.  I have so many regrets now.  My parents; I know that I’ll probably never see my parents again.  Or my friends.  And you know?  I’d trade it all in a heartbeat to go back and do that part at Charlie’s over again.  I’d even stay here if that is what it took.”

 

“But I’d like to take away the pain that I’ve cause my parents and friends.  I’ve hurt my family so much with my mistakes.  I just want to go home again,” I said fighting back my tears.  “I want to see a light in my parent’s window and smell the violets that my mom planted in the flower garden, hear their voices and feel my arms around them…..just….one more time.”

 

Woodenly, I continued with my assigned task---I switched my right hand over to his balls and began to slowly and softly caress them and run them through my fingers, while my left hand continued deep stroking his penis as he had instructed.

 

I finally regained control of my emotions.  “You think I’m dishonest with you, but I can honestly say because of my time here, I’ve found that I’m truly a different person now on the inside.  I’ve always tried to be an honest person.  But I hate being someone’s property.  I just hate that I’m controlled and forced to do anything that any Master or Mistress might want me to do; that I’m passed around like a cheap sex toy.  I just hate it!

 

Jorge listened silently.  Then he looked at me and said, “Be aware, M.  You get to make no more choices as regards your life---no more worries about finding a boy to marry.  Words have meaning here.  And you, you are playing games here again.  Much of what you tell me comes from the heart, but there is dishonesty too.  I will figure you out.”  At this point, his penis was fully erect again and was pointing directly at me.  Jorge was now ready to review again his previous impressions with this beautiful prize.  

 

Rolling onto his stomach, he found himself between her thighs.  He lifted himself up off of her and said, “M, I want you on top now.”  Victoria closed her eyes for a second, and then rolled over to her right and got up on her knees.  Jorge lay down on his back in the center of the bed and she hesitantly straddled him.  His erection jutted up towards her pelvis and she slowly, tentatively lowered herself onto him, using her left hand to pull the lips of her now dry vagina apart while her right hand grabbed the shaft of his erection and guided it into her.

 

As the head of his engorged penis slowly penetrated her, Victoria’s face went up towards the ceiling and her eyes closed; she showed little expression on her face except for a tiny smile as she slowly sank onto him and he into her.  Without knowing, after a couple of rocking motions she’d stopped her descent onto him when she’d taken in only about six inches of Jorge inside her body.  She then started a slow up and down motion with her pelvis.  Jorge put his hands on her hips and with exquisite timing, he pulled down fiercely on her hips just as Victoria’s pelvis was descending.  At the same moment, he thrust up sharply with his hips, fully burying his last two inches inside her belly in one plunging move.  This act was rewarded by a heartfelt groan of what could only be approval from his teenaged beauty.

 

After a moment, Jorge reached up and grabbed both of her nipples and without brutality, slowly pulled them forwards towards him.  Thus encouraged, Victoria leaned ahead and put her hands on his shoulders, thus allowing her breasts to hang down freely into Jorge’s face.  Both of his hands went up to Victoria’s bared breasts and he slowly stroked them, concentrating on her nipples.  Every now and then, he would pull one of her breasts down and absorb her nipple and half of her breast into his mouth.  Sometimes his hands would wander down to her thighs and he would stroke her legs slowly like one would a cat.  But he got more sensual pleasure out of that than she.

 

Victoria’s eyes were closed and on her face she finally showed what looked like sublime ecstasy as she began to rock back and forth, moving her hips up and down on him.  It only took a few moments before Jorge had his second eruption in an hour. 

 

Although I didn’t have an orgasm this time, I felt his cum flare briefly, yet deeply inside me and I was confused as I almost reveled in the feeling of satisfaction that it gave me when I pleased him that way.

 

Both rested for a moment and then Jorge looked at the wall clock, noting that it was time for her to get cleaned up for the next man.  He helped her stand upright and turned her to the side.  Victoria wobbled on her high heels and clung to him for a moment in an effort to maintain her balance after which she stood forlorn, looking like a small, lost child dressed up in adults clothing. 

 

He then dressed, telling Victoria to “make herself clean for Roberto” since he would be visiting her next.  With this, he left the cabin.  As he walked away, he felt delight in how drained this beautiful young woman had left him feeling.  She had taken everything he’d had and then begged for more.  She was a marvel---and still remained a challenge!

 

***

 

After taking off my babydoll top and removing my heels, I carefully rolled the stockings from my legs.  I slowly walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs; my knees were still wobbly from what Jorge had forced my body to experience.  I could feel his essence draining out of me and onto the insides of my thighs, so I thoroughly washed myself of Jorge’s two gifts to me and then walked back out to put away the stockings and lingerie that I’d left behind.  They thought they were turning me into a slut and that there was nothing I could do about.  My God, it was just the opposite—I was cooperating as much as I could, but to be their whore, not their slut.  Even more surprising to me was how much satisfaction I sometimes got by pleasing them with my whorish acts.  Like Bossman had told me, “it must all be in the context”, I thought to myself.

 

By the time I was finished cleaning myself, I saw that The Demon was waiting for me.  As soon as I saw him, I assumed my position of submission.  I hadn’t had time to freshen my makeup for him or to brush my hair.  But apparently that was okay; he was impatient and showed it in his roughness as he pulled me towards The Bed where he’d stacked his selection for me.  He was a bastard all right.  But his impatience worked for me too, as I reminded myself that he had not ordered me to put the black rubber plug back inside my body.

 

I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes and shuddered.  Paralyzed by dread, I watched him strip down to his underwear, the bulge at his crotch looked like a boulder.  I wanted to beg him, to plead with him; I hadn’t wanted this, I was free, I belonged to myself, why me; but my words died in my throat as I looked at him.

 

His selection for me today consisted of what appeared to be a black rubber body suit and mid-calf black boots with five inch stiletto heels.  In addition, he had what looked like a two piece mold made out of plaster, a bag containing fine black powder and a large rubberized hair net.  On the side of The Bed, there was also had a small bag which contained some things that I couldn’t make out.

 

I carefully held the suit up and looked at it.  When finally donned by stepping into it from the back, the rubber suit would tightly encase me from my ankles to high on my neck, except for where some sections were “missing”.  There were two holes cut in the front of the suit where my breasts must go, but they were much too small for one of my figure.  I would have to force my breasts through both holes and the rubber would then tightly constrict them at the base—he must have had the holes sized like this on purpose, I thought.  Something to make my life even more uncomfortable that it already was.

 

The area around my vagina would also be open, as would that of my rear.  This gave the suit a distinct Wyoming cowboy “chaps” look for which I did not care.  The suit was closed by laces that ran up the back and an empty sleeve was sewed to each side.  The sleeve ran from the shoulder to mid thigh and had zippers with which to open and close.  With a sinking feeling, I knew that this was where he would put my arms.  By donning this suit, I would be making myself helpless and placing myself at his mercy---and I already knew that he felt no mercy for me.  Finally, I saw that there were 2 two inch wide thick leather straps that were sewn around the chest of my suit, one above and one below the breast cut-outs.  Right now, they hung loose in front and had Velcro buckles on the ends.

 

Still afraid, but resigned to endure whatever he may do to me and with the forlorn hope that I might bring him some small pleasure by giving him my complete cooperation, I took off my nipple chain and The Demon then handed me a bottle of baby powder.  I slowly sprinkled the powder inside the suit legs and arms, allowing me to pull them onto my limbs.  I had to struggle to get my breasts through the holes provided in the suit.  I’d been correct when I supposed that the rubber would tightly constrict my breasts at the base; even as I finished pulling the suit on I could already feel the blood supply to my breasts being cut off as they became engorged with trapped blood. 

 

Roberto pulled on the ties in the back of the suit, ensuring that it fit her everywhere like a soft leather glove.  Following this, he rotated her slave collar until the ring on it was pointing towards the back.  He then had her put on the black boots which strapped tightly around her ankle just above her feet.  The boots had metal rings sewn to the back of the heel and were obviously used to subdue the wearers feet.  Finally, she re-connected her nipple chain and stood up. 

 

Roberto looked at her compliantly standing there, patiently waiting for his next move.  He looked at her and for the first time realized how truly beautiful this girl was.  Her natural blonde color was magnified by the jet black skin tight suit she wore.  He marveled at how it emphasized her tiny waist and full thighs, how it framed her gorgeous ass, how it immediately drew ones attention to her bosom.  The marbled white of her breasts stood in stark contrast to the total darkness of the suit.

 

Shaking his head as if to dispel any notion of her beauty or helplessness before him, Roberto roughly twisted her left arm and put it into its sleeve and zipped it shut.  He then did the same with her right arm.  He led the now lost Victoria back to the bed, telling her to sit down on the edge of it.  He looked at her and then suddenly slapped her face.  Hard.  “You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you bitch?”

 

“No, master, I don’t.” I knew my lips were quivering and I knew that right now I was as helpless, as defenseless and in as great a danger as any I had yet faced in my life.  Yet I hated myself even as I replied to him with a pleading tone in my voice.  With the rubber suit now completely on, even though I was willing to cooperate with him, I knew that I was also powerless to stop him from doing anything he wanted to do to me.  I sensed that this man wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if he thought it was necessary or that he could just get away with it.  He, and the situation that he had engineered, totally intimidated and dominated me. 

 

“You are white and think you’re better than us, don’t you?”

 

“Please, Master,” I heard myself beg, “No, I don’t think that.  Please.”  God, I hated myself at the moment.

 

He suddenly changed tack.  “Do you like sex?”

 

I hesitated before answering, “Yes Master, I think I like sex.”

 

He interjected, “That’s not what I asked you.  Do you like sex?”

 

Finally, I told him what he wanted to hear, “Yes Master, I like sex.”

 

He looked at her for another minute without saying a word.  “Bitch,” he said, continuing the line of questioning, “Do you like having sex with me?”

 

I didn’t know what to say.  Bossman had told me to never lie, no matter what I had been asked.  But this man, he was an animal.  He was a true beast.  He’d hurt me and enjoyed it.  He’d do this again and again, until one of us died.

 

Desperately stalling for time, I looked at him and said, “Master?”

 

He repeated himself, “You are a particularly stupid slave, woman.  Do you like having sex with me?”

 

I knew that the correct answer for him was yes, but the truthful answer was that I’d rather be forced to have sex with my father than have anything to do with him.  But I also didn’t want to hurt his feelings or disappoint him, and that’s why I just hated myself as I heard my disembodied voice say, “Yes Master, I like having sex with you.”

 

Silkily, he asked her in a tone that was full of warning to Victoria, “Do you like making love to black men?”

 

After hesitating, I replied, “Yes, Master.  I like making love to black men.”

 

“You are a stupid, stupid woman,” he looked coldly at her.  "You don’t even know how to talk the right way to a man.”

Robert shouted at her, “You have to learn how to talk like a real woman, how to a real man and not the college weaklings you normally fuck.  You have a pussy, or if you’re feeling particularly nasty, you have a cunt.  I have a cock.  Don’t play games when you talk about sex; don’t say ‘it’ to me, you always tell me you want my cock.  You don’t say you want it in you, you say you want me to fuck your cunt, or to fuck your pussy!  Understand?  Do you finally understand this, you stupid woman?” he asked.

I felt my eyes tear up and I nodded my head yes.  It scared me when he yelled at me like that.

“And here’s something else, you stupid bitch,” he continued.  “You will be sucking on a lot of cocks while you’re here; don’t wait for one of us to tell you to take him deeper inside you, instead you take him deep in your throat on your own, automatically.  Do you understand this?  Is there anything about this that is too tough for a stupid female slave like you to understand?”

I shook my head first no, that it wasn’t too hard for me to understand, and then afraid that he might misunderstand, I shook my head yes.

“God, you are such a stupid woman.  I’m going to love punishing you when you forget it.  You WILL learn obedience.  Now, let’s try it," he challenged her.  “Talk to me.”

Closing my eyes helped a little.  Finally, I was able to take a deep breath and respond to his demand.  "Fuck my cunt with your cock,” I recited woodenly.

“You stupid woman slave.  If you want a man to fuck a slut like you, you’d better learn to act like one too.  If a retarded woman like you wants to get better, you’d better learn to beg every man on this boat to fuck you until you get better.”

“You going to need to fuck more than one man at a time.  That will make any man watching you horny and you’ll be able to please them all.  Now try it again,” he demanded.

This was awful; I didn’t like to talk about these kinds of things and I had never liked to talk this way.  I knew that he was doing purposefully to humiliate to me.  I knew that this was an attempt to change me, to dehumanize my picture of myself in my own mind.  This was another of their efforts to beat me down emotionally as deeply as they had physically.  I closed my eyes again and this seemed to make it easier as I attempted to gather my thoughts, thinking about what I would say that might somehow please him, somehow make him stop.  By throwing together in my mind the foul words and actions that he’d described to me, I made up a series of phrases that were purposeless to me.  Knowing these words could never hurt me because I was too strong, I spoke them aloud for him in a slow measured tone:

“I love to be fucked.  Please fuck me.  I need a cock filling my pussy.  I need your cock in my cunt.  It feels so good when I’m being fucked.  I’ll even suck somebody else’s cock while you watch.  Please!  I’m begging you!”

Victoria opened her eyes and stopped to take a breath.  She looked at The Demon and he nodded, so she continued: 

 

“I’m a cocksucker.  I was born to suck cocks.  I love to suck white cocks.  I love to suck black cocks.  There’s no cock that I wouldn’t like to suck on.  I’ll spread for anyone.  I love being fucked.  I like being hurt.  I like being punished.  Oh God, somebody fuck me, please.”  She finally ran down and stopped.  

 

This seemed to satisfy The Demon temporarily since he stood up and put a fairly large earphone over each of her ears and then put a thin cap on her scalp, tightly covering all of her hair and her ears.  He then made Victoria lie down on The Bed and laid her head in the lower half of the body of the mold.  Next he forced a two inch long penis shaped gag into her mouth and fastened the strap around her neck.  Finally, he fixed the upper half of the mold onto the bottom half and locked the two pieces together.  There was a large hole in front of her face through which she could still look and breathe, so her anxiety remained within control.

 

The Demon now put on a small ear mounted boom microphone so that he could talk to her.  Turning it on, he asked Victoria if she heard him.  She tried to nod her head, but could not.  Seeing her movements and correctly interpreting them, The Demon proceeded to carefully reach through the two inch hole on the top half of the mold and roughly insert a wide yellow straw into each of Victoria’s nostrils. 

 

The straws had soft foam molded rubber tips that he pushed well into her nostrils.  She tried to jerk her head away, but was stopped by the weight and design of the mold encasing her head.  The straws were about six to eight inches long and were not too uncomfortable as he inserted them.  After this, he grabbed the bag of powder and after adding almost a pint of solvent, he then began to work the bag with his fingers, ensuring that contents were thoroughly mixed. 

 

Telling her to keep her mouth and eyes closed, The Demon poured the thick black mixture into the hole on the top of the mold; the viscous fluid flowed over and totally covered Victoria’s face, then seeped around to the back of her head where it pooled.  With her face completely submerged, the only way she could breathe was through the straws in her nostrils. 

 

Immediately, a panic attack rocketed from my brain to my lower spine and from there into my stomach and lungs.  I wanted to please him by lying still, but I couldn’t because for the first time in my life I felt claustrophobic.  I couldn’t breathe and tried to sit up but The Demon leaned over and put his weight on my hips and belly, and held my shoulders down with his hands; I felt my struggles quickly became weaker as I ran out of air to breathe and in less than ten minutes it was done.

 

The Demon had mixed and poured fast-setting liquid latex into the mold.  As the chemical reaction began to heat up on my face indicating that it was beginning to harden, I was consumed by my claustrophobia.  The Demon was talking to me, trying in his own clumsy way to calm me down, but it didn’t do any good.  I was held prisoner by a fearsome dread and wouldn’t be able recover until I had conquered my fears on my own.

 

When I had realized what he was doing, I had tried to scream.  But as soon as I had started to open my mouth, liquid latex had begun to seep in.  I closed my mouth immediately and finally began to try to get rid of the demons inside my head.  Somehow, in the end I was successful, but it came at great emotional cost.  Finally, I was able to lay still on The Bed, but I knew that sweat was pouring off of me in all the areas that he had left uncovered, that I could feel a cold breeze blowing over my erect nipples and that I was trembling all over my body, breathing only though the two straws.

 

The latex had finally set up and The Demon now removed the halves of the mold and lifted her up, talking into his microphone and ordering her to sit on the side of The Bed.  Encased, Vicki sat there, immobile except for her shallow breathing.  The two yellow straws protruded from the grotesque mask of her face; although blurred from the thin latex film covering them, her fine features were recognizable with her mouth looking as if it were slightly open in an unending scream that no one could hear.  The straws were steadfastly held in place by the now firm latex.  If The Demon had been worried about her safety, he would have ensured that she had a second way to breathe if her straws had gotten kinked or had collapsed.  When she later went over in her head what he had forced her to endure, the fact that he hadn’t done this spoke volumes to Victoria.

 

The Demon pulled the high neck of her suit down a little and trimmed the bottom of her latex mask around her neck.  Then he pulled the collar of her suit up over her newly acquired mask and just below her slave collar.  He then tightened the suit around her upper back again.  Except for her breasts and groin, and a thin strip down her back where the suit laced, Victoria was now almost totally encased in black rubber.

 

Roberto had used these suits before and knew that he had to be careful.  The slut’s internal body temperature built up quickly when the bitch was covered like this, so there had to be places for her body to vent heat.  Heat meant sweat, and he LOVED his women to have sweaty bodies.

 

“I’m glad you like having sex with me, you stupid woman,” he said to her via the microphone, “Because you and I will be having a good time now.”

 

I was still trying to master my emotions and calm my mind; I barely heard The Demon and what little I did hear was as if from a distance.  The most important thing to me was that I was finally beginning to get my breathing back under control.

 

Roberto looked at her gorgeous breasts.  While some men were leg men, he was a breast man.  This young teenager had absolutely magnificent breasts and he was transfixed by them.  They were beginning to get a darker red now; they jutted out from her rib cage with no support and her erect nipples pointed accusingly at him.  He thought this was hilarious.  Her breasts were covered with fine beads of sweat from both her previous exertions and her terror, so he leaned over and licked the sweat off of each, enjoying the salty taste of fear that she exuded.

 

Roberto watched her struggle with her fears for a couple of minutes and knew that she was a strong one.  But he could handle that.  Telling her what he was going to do on the microphone, he used his hands to guide her back down on the bed again.  She couldn’t struggle, because as soon as she made any effort at all, she ran out of oxygen.  Reaching down to her feet, he quickly used the rings on the back of her boots to attach her feet to the bed posts at the foot of the bed.  With a smirk on his face, Roberto thought to himself that she was familiar with this position—this he knew for a fact!  He then tied a rope tightly from the ring in her slave collar to the head of the bed.  For sure, this beautiful senorita was going nowhere without his permission.

 

Roberto then sat on the edge of the bed and began talking to Victoria.  “You, my dear,” he softly crooned into her earpieces, “belong to me now.”

 

“I know that you are afraid.  This is okay.  That’s right, it’s okay to be afraid.  You are strong.  But you can be stronger.  You need to take your fear and welcome it in.  Take it and make it your own.  That is the only way you will survive your future.”

 

I was taking quick, shallow breaths trying to keep the blackness away.  I was fighting a losing battle, since I could hear the monsters gibbering only a few feet away in the darkest corners of my mind.  But in the distance I could still hear The Demon droning on.

 

“Make it a part of you.  You learn do this with fear, and you will learn to do this with pain; I promise you that you will become a slave in a million.  No, one in ten million.  You have much potential.”

 

Bastard.  No, she corrected herself in the small part of her mind that remained sane, he was a fucking bastard.

 

Roberto soon realized that Victoria was not responding to him as she should.  He soon became enraged that even as restricted as she was, this arrogant bitch still tried to frustrate him.  As he grabbed the end of the straws through which she breathed and pinched them off with his fingers, he said, “Bitch!  Listen to me!  You act like a spoiled child, but your time of being a brat has come to an end.  Right now, you belong to me and I swear this to you.”

 

What Roberto didn’t realize was that at that moment, I wanted to cooperate with him; my most fervent desire was to give him whatever he wanted.  But I was as paralyzed psychologically as I was bound physically.  With slavering beasts in my mind everywhere I looked, I couldn’t have physically satisfied him at that moment if my life depended upon it---and it did.

 

As Roberto watched at this point, Victoria’s upper body was arched off of The Bed in her desperate attempts to get sufficient air to fill her screaming lungs.  Her feet made a helpless tattoo on the mattress as she struggled.  But to no avail, for her bound feet and the rope attached to her slave collar ensured that she would forever lay on her back on this bed for as long as he desired.  Suddenly, a little life giving air came through her only access to the outside world—he’d allowed her to breathe again.  She moaned loudly.

 

He looked at her sweaty breasts as her lungs gave shallow heaves, begging for more air.  He watched her for a few seconds and became aroused again.  He leaned over and again licked her breasts clean of the sweaty film that had accumulated there.  After this, he worked on her nipples for a minute.

 

The whole time he was licking her breasts his left hand had been between her legs, stroking her hairless vagina.  He took his thumb and index finger and captured her labia between them and pursued a long stroking motion, like might be done if one were continually drawing a long line in the sand.  Long stroke over sweaty skin, fingers exploring and tracing sweaty folds; another long stroke after the first. 

 

Finally, he leaned down and ran his hand between her legs and up the crack of her ass, lifting her pelvis from the back and cradling her hips in his hand for a short moment.  She moaned again—he knew she must like him touching her between her legs.  Then he slowly let go and dragged his hand back from behind her and up over her vagina once again, letting his fingers slowly trail behind.  He then reached back between her legs with his left hand and quickly ran his middle finger up her asshole and put his thumb in Victoria’s pussy.  Using just this grip, he squeezed them together and after a moment, he again lifted her pelvis off of the bed for almost a minute before he then trailed his hand over her sweaty labia as he released her from his caress.  He just LOVED working with a beautiful, sweaty, compliant bitch like this.

 

Reversing positions so that his back was to her head as he straddled her stomach, Roberto leaned down over Vicki and put his hands on each of her rubber covered thighs.  Leaning down even further, he put his mouth over the upper vee of her naked vagina where her lips met her clit.  He sucked on it lightly before searching for the small, elusive button of flesh.  Finally trapping it, he lightly tugged on her clitoris as he took it between his upper teeth and lower lip.  Then he moved his mouth barely away from between her legs and said into the microphone, “Show me how much you like this.” 

 

But the cunt remained motionless, so Roberto leaned over and took her whole vagina in his mouth this time, putting his nose down near her ass.  But he didn’t care about that because she had a musky smell to her pussy that was mixed with sweat and fear; he thought that fear gave ALL women a wonderfully sexy smell.  Roberto began sucking again and this time Victoria’s hips came up into his face within fifteen seconds; finally she proceeded to grind herself into his face.  She stopped rotating her pelvis into his mouth after a minute, but he supposed it was more because she was heaving for air through her straws rather than that she’d had enough of his loving. 

 

Roberto continued talking to Victoria as he let her catch her breath.  He confided to her that he found her quite desirable this way and that he hoped she was enjoying this as much as he.  If she was not, it was her fault because he was trying to help her understand how one could become always stronger through will power alone.  If she chose not to listen to him, who was she to complain?

 

Roberto also continued running his hands between her thighs, reveling in the sweat-slick feel of her now heated skin and inhaling the musk of her sweaty genitals.  Finally, he knew he was ready for the next step, and perhaps even the one after that too.  The increasing urgency of her moans indicated to him that she too was ready. 

 

I had responded to his physical manipulations between my legs because I knew that this was what would please him.  At this point, it didn’t matter how much I might hate him too, I was terrified and would do anything to get this over.  His sucking on first my clit and then my whole pussy had actually felt good after a moment.  And the fact that that was what he had wanted somehow took my mind away from my situation, until I found my chest heaving for air again.

 

I felt The Demon now connect the ends of the strap that wound above my breasts in front.  He tightened the buckle on this strap to the point that I could barely expand my chest to breathe.  The Demon then connected the ends of the second belt that went below my breasts and did the same again.  If possible, my situation now was even worse than before.  In addition to the straws limiting the air I could take in, I could expand my chest only a little to breathe; again terror, followed quickly by the now familiar claustrophobia bloomed in the darkest stretches of my mind. 

 

Finally, after what seemed like hours of internal struggle, I was able to get myself calm enough to begin taking even breaths as deeply (shallowly?) as was possible.  It was torture to force myself to do so, but I knew that I was lost if I did not.

 

I continued trying to get enough air to breathe.  I again seemed to be able to get just ahead of the debt of air that I had accumulated in my struggles and responses to The Demon; the screaming claustrophobia that had ruled my mind slowly began to recede ever so slightly.  It was like my lungs were filled with alternating layers of stale, musty air and carbon dioxide; and I could only breathe off of the top layer.  And that layer was also the only one that I had any hope of replenishing as I took only the shallowest sips of air that each straw allowed me.  No matter what I did in my attempts to please him, this hated man was a true master of torture.

 

Roberto stood up and walked over to the cupboard near the head of the bed and pulled out a red and a black candle.  Pulling out matches, he lit the black candle and used the melted wax from it to fix the burning candle to the table in back of him.  Next he took up the red candle from the table.  This one he would use on her first, because he liked most the contrast of red wax on the straining now reddish-white skin of her breasts as they were marbled with light blue veins, all encased in midnight black rubber. 

 

Roberto leaned over and told Victoria, “Don’t be afraid.  I am just enhancing your beauty a little.  There will be tiny points of heat.  Enjoy feeling these slowly harden into exquisite patterns on your beautiful skin.  You may be a stupid bitch, but you are a marvelous canvas.”

 

He lit the crimson red candle and held it above her left nipple and slowly let the hot wax drip onto her unblemished breast.  Some of the wax he let drip on her nipple, encasing it in its own crimson version of her black rubber suit as it hardened.  Other drops were allowed to fall on the top of her breast, while others landed on the bottom.  Still other drops he allowed to accumulate on the ends of the gold bar that pierced her perfect breast.  He then turned his attention to her right breast and duplicated his painting in red wax. 

 

Victoria’s breasts were naturally tender.  They were made even more so due to the additional and enthusiastic attention they had already encountered from her ‘mentors’ in this hell that she now inhabited.  Each small drop of wax that fell onto Victoria burned and caused a brief pin prick of pain before it cooled.  The large gobs and drips of wax that landed on her breasts however, tended to run in rivulets and took much longer to cool; they caused her a lot more pain than the drops.  Each kiss of the wax, whether large or small, drew a shudder from her chest that made her breasts jiggle like Jell-O.  This both amused and aroused Roberto. 

 

Finally, both breasts were about a third covered in red.  Roberto then switched his attention to her vagina and pubic area.  Large rivulets of hot wax running off of her lower abdomen and onto her clitoris made Victoria arch and scream in pain.  This however, caused her to begin breathing too hard and she began a shallow hyperventilation again.  Roberto continued with the molten wax on her labia, letting it run from the top of her vagina and follow the natural contours of her body as it ended up near the crack of her ass.  She bucked desperately and moaned loudly as he did this.

 

Roberto liked this reaction so much that he switched from the red candle to the black and began the procedure all over again.  Black on red on top, and black on red on the bottom—a most auspicious beginning for this piece of body art. 

 

Roberto looked at his canvas and finally realized that it was incomplete.  It still needed a snowy white for the final contrast.  Reaching over into the bag in which he’d brought the candles, he pulled out a bag of large marshmallows.  Taking the still lit black candle, he held up a marshmallow and lit it, eventually allowing strings of molten white to dribble on to her bare breasts, covering the hardened candle wax.

 

Victoria’s bound body bucked futilely as white hot flame exploded across her bare chest.  He knew that the acid-like pain of the sticky, melted white substance lasted far longer than had that of the wax and was much more severe; she began throwing her body from left to right as far as the rope attached to her slave collar would allow.  Finally, after both of M’s breasts had been blessed in white, he stopped before doing her vagina.

 

After waiting for several minutes, he crooned into the microphone that now he would remove her ‘color’ and that she should remain absolutely still while he did so.  “This is a test of how well you have learned to obey.  You see,” he said, “I must use a razor blade to clean my canvas.  Be very still bitch, it would be most unfortunate if I were to remove a nipple or perhaps circumcise you.”

 

His voice finally beat its way through the haze of pain; I froze as I heard his voice in my ears and concentrated on taking in the small, inadequate sips of air that his straws allowed through my nostrils.  Finally, after everything else it was just too much, it was just too hard to continue like this.  I felt myself begin losing this unwinnable race and after a moment, I began seeing small white sparkling dots on the insides of my eyelids; then everything started going dark gray.  I begged God for forgiveness and prayed that my parents would find out someday what had happened to me---that I had not runaway from them…….

 

***

 

Wolf still sat up on the deck and had listened as the moans from Victoria became louder and more insistent.  It had gone on for about thirty or forty minutes when he was deafened by a sudden prolonged silence from below; at this point, he got up and quickly went down into the cabin.  There he saw Roberto pulling on Victoria’s nipple chain and her wax encrusted chest was arched up off of The Bed as far as it could go without tearing out the nipple bars.  It looked like he was getting ready to take a knife to her breasts.  Her chest barely moved as she feebly tried to breathe through the straws; Victoria was clearly in great distress.  Wolf roared, “What the hell are you doing?” and the sound of his voice was carried clearly by Roberto’s microphone—Victoria heard it all in the distance as she continued to fade now towards black.

 

Roberto started stuttering and Wolf told him to “…get the goddamn rubber off of her face”.  When he didn’t act quickly enough, Wolf leaned over and ripped a hole in the rubber covering her mouth, then quickly withdrew the gag.  She drew in a shallow shuddering breath.  Looking at her, he asked Roberto, “Why isn’t she breathing better?”

 

Roberto replied, “She’s strapped so that she can’t breathe deeply.”

 

Victoria thought she heard over his microphone the sound of Bossman hitting Roberto and then, “Get the damned suit off of her NOW!”

 

Roberto scrambled and began working on her.  He began unstrapping the two belts around her chest that had terrified her so in the end; Victoria could feel him unclip her slave collar and pull her upper body up.  Finally, she could breathe again.  Roberto pulled the two straws out of her nostrils and ripped off with his hands the thin layer of soft rubber that encased her face and then the rest of her head.  He looked into her eyes and saw a wildness in her pin-point pupils that had not been there before.  In passing, he noticed that her face was extremely flushed and beaded with sweat.

 

He then untied her feet from the bed posts and helped her stand up.  She was unsteady on her feet and he held her upright as he unzipped and freed first her left arm and then her right. 

 

When she was finally able to move both of her arms, she weakly threw The Demon away from her.  After taking off her nipple chain with shaking fingers, Victoria began trying to remove the hated rubber suit herself.  But she couldn’t get at the back where it was laced and she was stymied until Bossman walked over and with a sympathetic look on his face, began unlacing her.

 

Finally free, I kicked off my boots and threw myself out of the rubber monstrosity, almost ripping out in the process the long bars with rings that still pierced my nipples.  In the end, I stood sweaty and naked; all that remained from before was the hair net and the ear pieces---and the multicolored wax covered in white.  I took off the hair net and weakly shook out my hair.  It was sweaty and matted, full of rats and kinks.  My swollen breasts under the multicolored wax were still a dark reddish color due to the constricting rubber suit; now that I was standing upright they ached with the pain of a thousand needles.  And my vagina was stiff from front to back with dried strings of both red and black wax.

 

After taking out the ear pieces, I looked at The Demon and began to walk towards him slowly.  While unashamedly submissive all day up to now in my attempts to please this man, I also knew that what he had just done to me demanded this one great act of defiance.

 

Wolf saw the eyes of blazing green and the look on her face, and grabbing a handful of her hair as she stalked by, swung her around and slapped her in the face.  Not hard, but in a way to shock Victoria out of her inappropriate rage.

 

He said, “M, stop.  I’ll take care of this.  I don’t think you can take much more, and if you take even one more step it’ll be you that’s in trouble, not him.”

 

Turning, he said to Roberto, he said, “Get your stuff together and get up on the deck now.  You’re off this boat in five minutes.”  Roberto looked at him for a second and turned on his heel and without a word he left the cabin.

 

Wolf turned back to Victoria, “M, if you’d hit him, it would’ve have been you being punished quite severely.  It’s better this way.  He was the newest member of the crew and I’ve been watching him.  He’s gone for good now and won’t bother you anymore.”

 

I suddenly realized that as his property, my anger had been both improper and perhaps even dangerous.  My body was finally beginning to react to what I felt was my near death and I was shaking all over from excess adrenaline.  Without any warning, my legs buckled and I dropped to my knees.  My Master’s leg was the closest support and I hugged him; sobbing, I buried my face into his thigh.  After a moment, I was able to look up at him and all I could think of saying was, “Thank you, Master.  Thank you.”  It was heartfelt and I looked at him in an entirely new light; he’d saved my life—I was sure of it.  I knew that I was his property and that had he chosen, he could have let my die right there and then just dumped my body overboard---no one would have ever known.

 

He looked down at my matted hair and touched it softly for a minute saying, “M, you have almost an hour before Manuel comes to you.  Get some rest.  It shouldn’t have gone this far.”

 

He’d turned to leave when she collapsed, sobbing, onto the floor.  He’d gently helped her stand back up and walk over to a chair where she dropped bonelessly into it; her uncontrolled sobbing continued helplessly. 

 

Wolf then walked through the galley and up onto the deck where Roberto was waiting.  He and Roberto walked to the end of the boat where they could not be overheard.  Wolf said to his man, “Here’s the extra money I promised you.  Good job.  I’ll have Jorge take you to the island in the runabout, and you can catch a fishing boat back to the mainland in the morning.  I have new meat coming through soon and will need you again in two or three weeks---that okay?”

 

“That’ll be fine.”  Roberto said, but then he hesitated. 

 

“She’s tough,” Roberto commented.  “Damned tough.  I wasn’t sure that she’d break, but in the end, she responded as you wanted.  In the end, they all do.  Don’t they, Jefe?”

 

“Yes,” Wolf replied absently without looking at Roberto, “in the end you all do.”

 

***

 

After a few moments in which I could not control my crying, I finally got up and walked over to the bathroom where I blew my nose.  I looked at myself in the mirror and started to cry again.  Finally, I stepped into the shower and ran the water as hot as I could stand it.  I stood there for about ten minutes just soaking and washing my hair; after a few minutes my sobs had finally stopped.  The moist heat helped me get most of the wax and marshmallow off of my body, and I was able to use my finger nails to scrape off the rest.

 

I was exhausted mentally and knew that no matter how much time I had, it would not be long enough for me to be either mentally or physically prepared for The Evil One; strangely, I didn’t care at the moment.  I quickly toweled my hair and then used a hair dryer to blow it dry.  I walked out and quickly brushed my hair, then like a robot I finished doing my eyes before I did anything else.  And this was how Manuel found me when he walked into the cabin.

 

Although feeling dull mentally, I immediately assumed the necessary position.  The first thing he said to me was, “Put your hair up in a pony tail.  Now!”

 

Trying to obey, I quickly began tying my hair back and after a little searching on the dresser, found a small band to put around my hair to hold it in place.

 

He carried nothing in his hands when he walked into the cabin.  When I looked up at him quizzically, he just looked at me for a second and then said, “Where are the heels you were wearing when you decided to join us for this cruise?”

 

I knew where they were, but had hoped never to wear them again.  They represented a different part of my life, a part that was in the past, a part in which I had stupidly assumed that I owned the world; I didn’t know if I could even look at them again without feeling revulsion.  But it didn’t matter to The Evil One, he insisted that I get them and put them on.  And this I did.

 

I now stood in front of him naked except for my collar, nipple chain and black high heeled sandals that had criss crossing straps going up my calves.  Finally back to their normal milky white color, both of my breasts now had only fading reddish rings around their base to remind me of The Demon.  In addition, there were a few small reddish blotches marking my groin, chest and even my nipples. 

 

Looking at these marks, Manuel asked, “Who fucked you up, bitch?”

 

I blushed and not wanting to fall into any kind of trap, I replied, “I was last with Master Roberto, Master.”

 

“Okay; that explains that.” 

 

Manuel now walked over to the bed and quickly undressed, after which he sat down on the edge and said, “Come over here, slut.”

 

I walked over and stood in front of him.  He looked up at me for a second, then reached up and used my nipple chain to drag me down to my knees in front of him.  It hurt a lot as he pulled me down to his level, but I tried to assume what I thought would be an appropriate position that would please him, with my knees tightly together and my hands resting on my thighs.  I did not look at him, but rather down at the floor.

 

“Today,” he said, “I have the distinct pleasure of beginning your lessons in how to please a man with your mouth.  You have a gorgeous mouth and will make a spectacular slut with it.”  His lesson began almost as much in language as it did in action.

 

“Look at me, bitch.  That’s right.  Take my cock in your hands and slowly stroke it.  That’s right.  You see how a real man appreciates your intentions?  Real men will always respond to you this way.”  I obviously did not want to do this and it showed on my face.  This annoyed him, so I guess he decided to embarrass me.

 

“Now look at me and lick your lips.  Slowly lean into my crotch and kiss my cock.  That’s right, kiss it like it’s made of jewels and diamonds—you come from a wealthy family bitch, and know of the value of jewels and diamonds.  Correct?  Show me now how you value me as your Master and as a man.”  Both of his hands were on the top of my head, forcing me down to meet his hips.

 

“That’s right.  Now lick it slowly.  Pretend that you are licking an ice cream cone.  Lick it with anticipation!  It is your pleasure to lick my ice cream, is it not?  Make sure you lick it underneath and right at the tip.  Ahhh, that’s nice.”

 

His penis and the wrinkled skin of his balls were a darker color than the rest of him and his erection was quite large.  He was circumcised and the veins on the outside of his penis bulged with trapped blood.  I tried to withdraw into that special place I had in my mind, but I still felt my eyes begin to brim with tears at the humiliating way he was talking to me.  He smelled of old sex and unwashed skin, like he hadn’t bathed in days.  I fought nausea and was successful in keeping my bile down.

 

“Now take it into your mouth, slut.  Slowly, slowly.  Ahhh, that’s right.  You are doing well here; you know that you like whatever a man tells you to do.  This is the way it should be.  It’s the difference between being a well trained mare and a wild mustang.  The mare may not have as many options as the mustang, but she pleases her stallion much more.”

 

At his insistent tugging on a handful of her hair, the bitch finally leaned over into his lap and began to work on him.  All he could see was the back of her head bobbing up and down on his pole and then he felt a liquid warmth in his lap as her tears fell onto the tops of his bare thighs.  But she continued doing as he had ordered, so he knew that there was hope for her yet.

 

My time in this awful place represented my first experience with oral sex.  I was---or always had been---a very fastidious person, squeamish and fussy, particular to the point where people laughed at me.  I didn’t even like to touch cigarettes, for God’s sake, or even put them on my lips.  I had honestly never, ever felt the desire to take a man into my mouth, let alone swallow his bodily fluids.  Frankly, the last thought just disgusted me.  But here I was, kneeling in front of The Evil One when he made me lean forward into his lap and take his foul smelling penis into my mouth.  Knowing that I had no choice, I reluctantly kissed his stiff shaft and then opened my mouth and took him inside, tasting a man there for the first time.  For some reason and without my being able to stop, tears of shame again began flooding my eyes and falling on him.  He was a large man, although not as large as Bossman and it was difficult at first to get the head of his penis past my lips, but finally I succeeded.  He filled my mouth with his manhood.

 

He then moved away from her and toward the middle of the bed, forcing her to follow him on her hands and knees like a dog on a leash of hard flesh.  Her unconfined breasts hung down, swaying as she crawled up on the mattress after him, never allowing his cock out of her mouth.  She felt like a mongrel being trained for an absent master and uncontrollably, her eyes began filling again.  It was so humiliating.  He kept a grip on her pony tail and never let her mouth roam from his groin and what he desired.

 

“Bitch, follow my cock like your life depends upon it.  If you bite me now, even if by accident, I swear I’ll pull every tooth in your head.  Never let my cock out of your mouth.  It is your life.  It is your reason for being.  Follow it like some men follow their flag and never let it go.  That’s right.  On your knees again between my legs.”

 

“Your head moves up and down, up and down slowly.  You will take all of me into your mouth and suck me until I say you are done.  That’s right.  Now take it deeper into your mouth.  Deeper, you stupid cunt.  Deeper.  More.”

 

All of his language was designed to make her understand just how insignificant she was. 

 

“OK, I’m going to slide into your throat and you can show me how well you handle my cock then.  That’s right, if you concentrate on taking it deep and don’t gag, you’ll get an ‘A’ for your first lesson.  Concentrate on your breathing, no gagging and no vomiting; you do that and I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

 

“Now take my cock in your hand and slowly pull down on the loose skin as you move your head down on my cock.  Suck hard all the time, when your mouth is full and even when it’s not full.  But don’t let my cock come out of your mouth.  Never!  Not until I say you can.”

 

He could tell that at first she wasn't quite sure what to do, but it seemed like she quickly caught on and finally began a clumsy and graceless sucking motion.  Her cheeks looked hollow as she sucked on him, but then would regain their normal contours as he would partially pull out of her mouth.  After a few moments, Manuel withdrew from her mouth, but then quickly pushed his cock back in again.  He kept going on like this until he’d established a rhythm that was easy for her to follow.

 

I sucked on him and stroked him; eventually his hips began to move, driving him up and deeper into my mouth.  I didn’t like this, but in doing my best to cooperate with him, I opened my mouth even wider to accept more of him.  This act of mine made my jaws ache even more, but  finally allowed him to approach the entrance to my throat.  I was surprised when he hit the back of my throat and I hunched up as I felt the first beginnings of a gag, but somehow I controlled it.  He went impossibly deeper somehow; his cock was now in me up to the root and my face was buried in his bushy pubic hair.  He smelled awful and I felt the beginnings of nausea as I thought about what he was doing to me.  Somehow I forced myself to go on even as his balls continued smacking me on my chin.

 

Remembering how The Evil One had told me to keep my throat loose and to concentrate on my breathing, I was able to keep myself from gagging as he continued to take his deep strokes into my mouth and I to suck on him.  Now he was so deeply embedded in me that the head of his cock kept bumping the back of my throat with each thrust.  My eyes were closed at this point as he used his handful of my hair to ensure that he had my face crushed into his pubic area.  This forced me to synchronize my breathing through my nose with his moves.  But my nose was buried in his black, curly, smelly pubic hair and every time I breathed in, my nostrils caught the putrid smell of urine, sweat and old cum.  Despite my nausea, I somehow continued forcing myself to ignore his aroma.  As he pushed into me, I finally realized that I could handle fucking him this deep in my mouth only if I took it slowly; so, with both determination and despair, I now began to actually concentrate on sucking his huge and always pulsating need, and God help me, eventually, after an eternity he began to cum in my mouth.

 

Manuel was in the grip of heaven and felt his motions became more quick, more agitated and his English less intelligible.  He didn’t know and didn’t care what he was saying as long as his cock was buried in her mouth.  Finally, Manuel began to cum.  All that he cared about was filling her mouth with everything that was inside of him.  He felt her try to shake him off, but he used his handhold on her ponytail to keep her mouth right where he could target it with every move of his hips.  When she finally able to pull free from him enough to turn her head away from him and cough, he painted her face with the rest of his load.  Casually, he used her pony tail to wipe up any cum that he had spilled on her face.

 

He allowed me to rest for a few minutes.  Then, in a rough and uncaring manner I felt The Evil One suddenly grab a handful of my hair, locking my head back in place again.  This allowed him to hold my mouth steady for his second assault.  Not knowing what else to do, I reluctantly accepted him back in my mouth and began again sucking and working his semi-erection with my tongue.  With my attentions, he soon grew back to his normal size.  After I’d worked on him for a couple of minutes, I suddenly felt his meat begin to have spasms and by the time I realized what he meant to do, he’d shot a second large string of cum deep into my mouth, almost down my throat.  Surprised at feeling the warm and salty, yet almost sweet tasting fluid fill my mouth again, I shook my head again and made a face of intense dislike as I unsuccessfully attempted to pull away from The Evil One’s crotch.  But he continued to keep an unshakeable hold on my hair and I couldn't escape as he discharged his remaining semen all over my face.

 

He could see that Victoria was unsure how to react to this; she looked like she was revolted by what he had done to her and when she tried to turn her face a little to spit his cum out of her mouth, he suddenly pushed his still erect cock back into her mouth and filled her with his manhood again.  He thrust his rigid shaft back into her mouth where it slid over the majority of his cum which still lay in gobs on her tongue.

 

Without his urging and without him knowing that I still had his seed in my mouth, I was finally forced to begin to slowly suck on him again.  My jaw was aching at this point from being pried open for so long.  The Evil One would pull his penis out of my mouth and use his fingers to dip and scrape his cum from my face and then either push it back into my mouth or paint it on his penis.  He would then put his cock back in my mouth and tell me to ‘clean it, suck it clean’.  He did this two or three more times until my face was relatively free of his discharge.  I hated it---the remaining film of his semen dried quickly on my skin and felt both sticky and tight at the same time.

 

I kept my eyes closed the whole time that The Evil One was ‘cleansing’ my face.  Eventually, not knowing what else to do, I made an instinctive decision to try to please him by swallow everything he had put in my mouth.  My mouth was filling with his bitter-sweet fluid and finally, even knowing that it would put me in a place from which I could never return, I resolutely swallowed what he’d put in me.  I didn't particularly like the taste and I was grossed out by what I was doing, but I knew of no other way to make this torture end.  As I did this, I felt nausea begin to billow again in my stomach and it threatened to bring everything back up again.

 

Manuel was happy with her first attempt at giving him an extended blow job and patted her on top of her head like a dog, telling her that she had “done good” and that “he knew bitches that had been whores for a couple of years that weren’t as good as she was.”  “She was,” Manuel assured her, “a natural at this and would only get better with practice.”

 

Not conceited in any way, Victoria had always taken great pride in what she’d always been; a kind and good person.  She valued herself and was both choosy about those with whom she associated and had always acted in a way that ensured that she would never bring shame to her parents or embarrass them.  She was finicky about being ‘proper’ perhaps to an unreasonable degree for that’s what she’d been taught by her mother. 

 

This is why she responded to The Evil One’s praise with a resolutely blank face; for she knew exactly what this one act would later cost her in self-esteem.  She was ashamed of what she had just done and of why she had done it.  It seemed to her that always before on this boat from hell she had been the victim.  But here, she felt that somehow she had cooperated in her downfall, had somehow been an active and willing participant in what had just happened to her rather than sitting in the audience and watching the play unfold onstage.

 

The Evil One made me resume my kneeling position on the floor at the side of The Bed while he rested for awhile.  Eventually, he began talking to me, needling me, prodding me.  His goading was well planned and of the worst kind because it attacked my view of myself and forced me to face what he thought would be my ultimate destruction.

 

“I really think you like this stuff,” he said.  “Don’t you?”

 

I closed my eyes before attempting to answer.  The Evil One was challenging my view of myself, that inner core that I valued so dearly.  Well, I wouldn’t let him have it.  These were just words and couldn’t hurt me.  “Yes, Master,” I replied, as if it had been an agreeable afternoon that we both had assented to.

 

“Do you like giving blow jobs?” he asked.

 

I hesitated answering, instead asking God why he let this animal torture me like this.  “Yes, Master, I like giving blow jobs,“ I finally replied.

 

“Are you a cunt?”

 

Oh God, please make this stop---but he’s glaring at me, “Yes, Master, I’m a cunt.”  Please, no more.  This is not me.

 

“No, you’re not a cunt.  A cunt will take one man and make him happy.  Are you a slut?”

 

Tears begin to brim around my eyes as I replied, “Yes Master, I am a slut.”  I am NOT a slut.  I have been kidnapped and raped and sodomized.  But I am not a slut!

 

“No you’re not a slut.  As slut will do two or three men and be happy.  A slut likes sex.  How many men have you had on his boat?” The Evil One asked.

 

This was so unfair.  He took so much pleasure in trying to break me down.  He truly was evil.  Tears now begin trailing down my face as I desperately played for time, “Master, do you mean how many men are on the boat? 

 

”No!  How many men have taken you on this boat?” he asked again.

 

“I understand, Master; I’ve been with five men on this boat, Master.”  The words were torn from my throat like skin flayed from my body.  I understood now what Bossman meant when he said that words do have meaning. 

 

“Five men at one time makes you a whore.  Do you understand?  Five men at one time make you a nasty whore.  Say that you understand me.  Say it, you bitch! 

 

“I understand, Master,” I replied, trying to be evasive in the only way he allowed her.

 

“SAY IT!” he yelled at her.

 

“Yes, Master.  Fucking five men at one time makes me a whore; I’m a nasty whore” she finally repeated back to him.  Even though I was holding back and attempting to deceive, to try and retain the remaining shreds of my dignity, it still hit me like a blow.  I was finding that words do have meaning.  They also have a weight and a volume and a density.  They can hit you harder than any rock or bullet.

 

“You’ve taken five men at one time?’ he asked silkily.

 

“Yes Master.  I’ve taken five men at one time.  I am a whore.  I have taken five men at one time and I am a whore.”  I finally began to feel the words that described the reality of my new life.  I was beginning to understand what I was now and would soon become even more.

 

“So you like being gang-banged?’ he continued.

 

Tired with trying to play dumb to his bumbling Clouseau, there was little emotion in my voiced as I replied, “Yes Master, I like being gang-banged.”

 

This last exchange seemed to satisfy him.  He allowed me to sit in the chair while he lay on the bed---not a word passed between us.  After he had rested for about half an hour, The Evil One said, “That was the old way for a cunt to suck me off.  Now bitch, you and I are gonna do it a new way.”

 

I had been in my own world for the last twenty minutes and when I now looked at him, I could see that he was playing with himself and had the beginnings of another erection.

 

“Get that look off of your face.  I do all the work with this one.  Come over here.  Lie down on the bed sideways on your back and let your head hang off the edge.  That’s right, that’s right.  Now cross your legs and grab your right high heel with your left hand and your left heel with your right hand.  Do you understand, you stupid cunt?”

 

“Yes Master, I understand,” I replied.

 

“Then do it!  Okay.  Now hang on to them.  Don’t let go of your heels, no matter what happens.  I don’t want to see your hands flapping around, no matter what I do.  Do you understand, you stupid bitch?”

 

“Yes Master, I understand,” I again replied.

 

With that, The Evil One got down on his knees in front of me.  He reached down with his left hand and jerked my head back and down hard by pulling my long hair toward the deck of the cabin.  I now knew why he’d told me to put my hair up in a pony tail.  My head was no longer on a plane with my body, but was tilted backwards so that I was looking upside down at the wall in back of The Evil One.  In fact, all I could see was the wall behind him through his spread thighs and his giant cock which now was immediately in front of my face.  His balls hung directly in front of my eyes.

 

I couldn’t help myself.  As he pulled hard on my hair, my mouth was forced wide open as I gaped with pain.  The Evil One then used his right hand to guide his erect cock into my mouth.  Because of the way that I lay on The Bed and the way my head was hanging off of The Bed, he had a straight shot down my gullet and his erection took up every inch available.  With one move of his hips, he drove the head of his engorged penis into my mouth and down my throat, and then he just held it there.  He watched my face in fascination as his erection filled my throat to the point where I felt that it actually seemed to cause a bulge in my neck.

 

“Now suck on it, you whore.”

 

Immediately, I had gagged on his cock and I shook my head back and forth; I panic’d and began to move my hands away from my feet and towards my face.  There was no way that I could breathe with him down my throat like this.

 

The Evil One said, “Put your hands back on your shoes or I’ll break your fingers.  And I said suck on it, bitch!”  And then he gave my face a contemptuous back and forth slap with his right hand as he continued pulling on my ponytail with his left. 

 

“Hands back to your feet, bitch!”

 

I somehow forced my hands back so that I could grab my heels again.  But I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t breathe and I gagged again.  He pulled out a little and I took deep lungfuls of air through my nose and threw my head back and forth to try to get a little clearance around his erection in order to breathe.  This time my nose was closer to his ass and his smell just got more gamey; much worse than before. 

 

He pushed back into my mouth again and his nutsack started banging into my face, slapping me between the eyes and on my forehead as he began making long drives into my face with his hips.  I threw my head back and forth in an attempt to breathe, but he used his handhold of my hair to keep my head pulled down and now began a slow, rhythmic driving motion into my mouth, all the while he was cursing me.

 

“Awww, you’re a definitely a slut.  You’re gonna learn to love it this way.  Good looking cunts like you always like to lord it over guys.  But every one of you, you’re all the same when a guy gets his cock in your mouth—you love it!  Suck on it, bitch.  Suck hard on it, bitch!”

 

The Evil One had been driving into my mouth for over a minute now and my gag reflex was finally beginning to die down a little.  I found that I could breathe a little if I timed it for when he was pulling out of my mouth.  But I was humiliated to find that my mouth had begun salivating as he kept it filled with his penis and the excess saliva was running out of my mouth and down (up?) my face.  Also, by this time, my eyes were now tearing incessantly.  As a result, both my mascara and eyeliner were now running towards my forehead, forming long dark streaks on each side of my face that pointed to the corners of my eyes.

 

He would drive his cock into my mouth and then stop with it buried in my throat.  The Evil One seemed fascinated by the bulge in my neck that his erection seemed to cause and he would bury himself in my throat and then softly stroke my neck with his right hand.  He’d do this for up to thirty seconds at a time, at which point I began to panic for lack of air.  Then he’d pull out and begin the strokes again, forcing me to time my attempts at breathing with his thrusting hips.

 

The sound coming out of my mouth and throat and which echoed around the cabin was a mortifying ”ga-glick” each time he drove into me; the awful and humiliating sound being caused by a man driving himself deep into a woman’s throat and violently expelling all the moist air from her lungs.  My saliva continued to pool in my mouth, eventually running in long strings of drool out of the corners of my mouth and running down my face towards my eyes; this only lubricated his engorged cock even more.  He had no problem now in completely burying his manhood inside my mouth.  Every now and then, he’d reach down and caress my throat again, feeling it bulge ever so slightly as he penetrated to previously unimaginable depths.

 

”Ga-glick, ga-glick, ga-glick, ga-glick, GA-GLICK,” it just went on and on and on.  He called this “throat-fucking” and he was merciless as he brutally throat fucked me.

 

Suddenly, he reached down and pinching my nose nostrils shut with his right hand he said, “Suck on it, bitch.  You get air when you suck on it hard enough.”

 

Only through sheer will power was I able to keep my hands locked on my high heels; I sucked on The Evil One’s cock as hard as I could.  I needed air.  If he didn’t let me breathe through my nose soon, I’d pass out.  So I sucked on his cock for my life.  I pulled as hard as I could with my lungs and felt no shame in doing so.  My cheeks were pulled in so deeply as I sucked on him that I knew I must have been almost unrecognizable.  Soon, it must have been only seconds, but it felt like years, he released my nose and I could breathe again.

 

“That’s what I’m talking about, bitch.  Right at the end there, you were giving me some pretty good heat.  THAT”S what I want ALL the time; do you understand, you stupid whore?”

 

Keeping my hands firmly on my high heels, I sucked for my life again.  I did not want him to plug my nose—that had scared the hell out of me.

 

Finally, this too ended.  The Evil One gave out a soft groan and began a more furious motion with his hips, finally driving into my throat one last time where he held it motionless for about twenty seconds before he suddenly began to cum again.  I was looking at his balls from an upside down position as they rested upon my forehead, but I could still see his buttocks straining and clenching when suddenly a hot, thick load of cum shot down my throat.  He was buried so deeply inside my throat that all I could do was attempt a brief swallowing motion and it was magically gone.  It was so far past the back of my tongue that there was no real taste involved, just a feeling of hot, thick, syrupy fluid.  But I could still feel its slow, warm travel down my throat and into my stomach; it seemed to take forever to end, and the feeling of it going down my gullet made me want to vomit.

 

He backed away just enough to withdraw his cock and then said, “Lick it off, baby.  Lick it up just like it’s a Popsicle.”  The things he had me do let me know exactly what he thought of me and my place on the boat.

 

My hands were shaking as I brought them up from my high heels and reached out to take The Evil One’s penis.  The veins on the outside of his cock were still prominent, but not as hard as they had been.  I grabbed his penis and without a second thought, began licking up its sides and then used the tip of my tongue to finish off the last drop on the head of his now flaccid organ.  When I had finished, he left me without another word, my head still draped off of side of The Bed and my pony tail resting on the floor.

 

Fellatio is defined as oral sex.  It is generally assumed that it occurs between two consenting adults, perhaps when two are in love or maybe when money has changed hands.  Less often, non-consensual fellatio may occur during a rape.  Rape is an act of power of one person over another.  But what The Evil One had done to me went far beyond the planned cruelty of rape.  There is a savageness, a viciousness, a depraved indifference that occurs only when one looks at their partner as something far, far less than human.  And this was what The Evil One had done to me.  His studied actions had purposefully dehumanized me, turning me at least in his mind into a bloodless, mechanical receptacle for his desires.  Most damaging, his attack had been as much, or more against my mind and my view of myself as a woman as it had been on my body.

 

I had never before met people like The Evil One and The Demon.  They just didn’t exist in the places in which I had been raised.  Perhaps a few secret groups might exist, but no one would dream of doing in the open the acts that these two men had performed upon my.  In contrast, while I may have had no choice in being there with him, Jorge had treated my in all things gently and correctly as a pleasure slave while maintaining a clearly non-aggressive relationship.  Always firm, after I had given in to them Jorge had never exhibited gratuitous violence against me.  Neither, for that matter, had Bossman.  But The Evil One and The Demon hated me, and I was pretty sure that they hated all women.  These men must have had had mothers and perhaps sisters at one time; what had happened to make them hate women so much?

 

After The Evil One walked out of my cabin, I literally fell off of The Bed and onto the floor.  I finally sat on the floor with my back against the bed frame and just stared dully at the wall in front of me.  I’d finally realized that it didn’t matter to him whether I had wanted to cooperate or not---that wasn’t the issue to him.  In fact, he’d have been disappointed if I had wanted to please him.  What he’d wanted was the opportunity to display his mastery over me, to show me how little I counted for in his world. 

 

Suddenly, I couldn’t control it anymore.  I jumped up and barely made it into my bathroom where I knelt and vomited into the toilet everything that was in my stomach.  After a moment, I leaned back against the bathroom wall, crossed my hands tightly over my chest and began a slow rocking motion.  My body was trembling, my armpits sweating and I could still feel the sick at the back of my throat.  My eyes remained open and dry, but I saw nothing as I held myself and rocked.  I kept repeating in my head, “they can’t get me here, they can’t get me here.”

 

Suddenly, I couldn’t help myself---I screamed and with fumbling fingers took off first one of my high heels and then the other, finally throwing them both out of the bathroom.  I went back into a rocking motion and it took me fifteen minutes to be able to move from the bathroom wall. 

 

Eventually, I was able to pull myself up slowly from the floor.  After first brushing my teeth for a long time and gargling, I walked into the shower where I quickly washed myself.  If not for my religion and love of my family, I’d have seriously tried to kill myself right there.  Instead, I wearily dried myself off and walked back out to begin getting ready for Enrique’s impending visit to The Bed.

 

***

 

Days later, Manuel again tried to get my to wear these high heels for him, but I refused.  Enraged, he beat me mercilessly for half an hour, but I still refused.  Manuel began to beat me a second time when Bossman was drawn by the sounds of the blows on my body.  After listening to Manuel, he allowed me to take the sandals up on deck and throw them overboard.  He’d realized immediately that I would be much more docile if allowed to win this one battle. 

 

On my part, I looked at the sandals that I’d been wearing when I was captured, the ones that I’d been so proud of and had paid so much of my own money for, as both mementos of a period of arrogance in my life that I regretted immensely, as well as a monument to the stupidity of a young teenaged girl.  I never wanted to see them again---it actually made me ill to look at them, let alone wearing them again to sexually titillate one of these animals.

 

***

 

Enrique walked into my cabin and stood silent, looking at me.  I had washed and dried my hair like a robot, and was in the process of mechanically brushing it out when he entered.  I turned from my dresser and numbly assumed the position which proclaimed my status on the boat.  He carried with him no clothing for me to wear, and he remained looking at me for an overly long time.  I finally dared to raise my eyes and looked up at him to see his face set in a grim mask and his mouth in a thin, tight line showing obvious disapproval.  He continued staring at me with an intensity that made me uneasy and as I lowered my head again, I wondered what I had done to make him angry or what awful thing he had planned for me today.

 

Finally he turned and walked over to the chair and sat down, motioning to Victoria to come over to him.  He was tired.  He found it more and more difficult to get to sleep at night, and it felt good to just sit for a minute.  She walked over and stood next to him wearing only her slave collar and nipple chains.  After a moment of silence, he gestured for her to sit on his lap.  Confused and apprehensive, she did so. 

 

Enrique knew that when necessary, cruelty is one of many tools that a man can use to subjugate a female---he himself had never hesitated to use it in the past when necessary.  But a smart man never uses it against a woman when it’s totally unnecessary.  If sufficiently motivated, unless she’s dead, even the most tame and submissive of female slaves will find a way to exact payment for what has been done to her.  You may safely take away a woman’s freedom, you may even take away her ability to choose among whom she will forever have sex; these are things a woman is strong enough to endure.  But should you try to take away her child?  You will pay.  The point is, we all have limits.  Barbarism and savagery when used in training or to satisfy his own needs are legitimate tools for a Master to apply to his slave, but when applied for their own sake just to cause pain, they are generally counter productive in the end.

 

The problem with Enrique was that he knew all this, but he also knew that he just wasn’t a smart man when it came to having a beautiful woman like Victoria in his power.  Even so, he found himself enjoying what he did less and less.  But he was good at what he did and he was weak when a female as beautiful as this was involved.

 

In total silence, he put his left arm around my back and began stroking my hair with his right hand, his hands soft as they touched me.  I put my hands on his chest and pushed back from him to look into his face.  I was quickly learning to be less trusting and I couldn’t just look at him and tell what he was thinking.  But as I looked Enrique in the face for a moment, he looked back into my eyes expressionlessly and just continued stroking my hair. 

 

I knew that I had to take him at face value.  Overcome with what I had just gone through in the last two hours, I put my head against his chest and broke out in great, heaving sobs.  He started making a soft rumbling sound in his chest that somehow comforted me and I clung to his neck as if it were the only thing that could save me from drowning in the new life that I was being forced to lead.  I was a child again, a child in a woman’s body perhaps, but a child nonetheless.  We remained this way for a quarter of an hour, without either of us saying a word.

 

He finally said, “I want you to know---I am a hard man.”  He hesitated, “I am not a good man.  I know myself and the longer I am with a woman, the….rougher I am with her.  I am often a crude man and I am not proud of this, but this is the way I am.  I….I….just wanted you to know this about me.  I tell you these truths so that you are not shocked when you know the true me.”

 

He reached down and picked her chin up with his right hand and looked at Victoria in the eyes.  “Today, you and I still have something left to do.  I know this is not what you want or need right now, but your wishes do not count here.  However, I promise to try to be as quick with you as I can be.  You and I, we need to spend some time together.  If you fight me or try to deny me, it will be much more painful---and in the end you will not be successful.  The choice is up to you, anguish and pain or pleasure.  But be clear on one thing---you will have one or the other with me, now, today.  Come.”

 

And with a slight movement of his hands, he pushed her off of his lap and onto her feet.  Standing, he took her hand and led her towards her bed.

 

Enrique stood by her bed and put his hands on her shoulders.  Leaning forward, he slowly moved his face towards hers and gave her a light kiss on the lips.  Surprised, Victoria hesitated for a moment and then responded with a fervor that surprised both of them.  She leaned into him and put her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to his level where she could better reply to his initial moves.  She somehow felt protected as he stood there.

 

They continued their kiss for a moment and then he stepped back saying, “I need to remove my clothes.”

 

I wanted to trust him, I needed to trust him, but he was with them and had already hurt me earlier.  God, I hated having these men use me like this.  I felt numb inside but knew that I would have to pay a price for what was being done to me---I couldn’t hide from it forever.  Finally, in response to his request and with all hope gone, I began to help him prepare to rape me again.

 

Victoria nodded her understanding and began unbuttoning his shirt; as he slid it off of his shoulders, her hands began unbuckling his belt.  She then lay down on her back on the bed and slowly spread her legs a little as he finished removing the rest of his clothing, at which point he lay down next to her on his right side.  Her legs were fabulous!  Enrique first pushed her legs together before he slid his right arm under her head and pillowed her with it.  He looked into her face and slowly stroked her breasts, going back and forth from one to the other.  Soon, he leaned in and kissed her, while his left hand slowly slid down her firm belly and onto her mons, at which point he pushed her thighs apart and softly formed her vagina with his fingers.  His hand did not move, but just remained gently cupping her even as he continued kissing her. 

 

I now knew that I was a highly sexually charged woman.  This understanding was the only thing for which I could thank these men.  I knew that it was a pity that it had taken such a long time and an awful situation like this to finally bring me to this realization; I recognized how much I had missed.  At the same time, even though I knew it was in my best self interest to cooperate with them, no matter how much sex I might be forced to have with them I was still determined to deny them the real “me” that still cowered somewhere deep inside my mind.  As Enrique lightly stroked my body, I wondered in passing if things might have ended differently if I had known this about myself earlier.  Would I have met someone on Cancun and been with them; would I have then been safe from being kidnapped if I had only been more willing to be with a man there?  But it didn’t matter now---I was here---and I belonged to them.  And finally, I wondered if I might not have lost my sanity, for Enrique’s light touch was starting to arouse me just a little even though I was not all anticipating what we were going to be doing.

 

Perhaps intuiting the beginnings of interest as shown by her pelvis, Enrique made a move with his body and Victoria, sensing what he desired, rolled onto her right side so that their body’s pressed together like spoons.  She could feel his hardness pressed against her as his hips moved slowly, not yet demanding anything.  He softly licked the back of her neck and nuzzled her ear; his breath feeling hot on her skin as he breathed in and out.  Finally, he asked her, “M, it’s time.  Are you ready?” 

 

After a moment in which she was filled with apprehension, she nodded.

 

Enrique lay with his groin pressed against the back of the teenager.  He pitied her situation a little, but there were always times when it was all worthwhile.  How else could he be what he was and still make a living?  He was finding it harder and harder to get it up and he really didn’t mind taking some time to comfort the girl.  But that wouldn’t stop him from ass-fucking her brains out either. 

 

She seemed to read things into what he said and did; this amused him some because she would soon learn what was real and what was not.  He’d told her the truth about him, but she’d chosen to not listen.  It was a pity, but like he’d told her, he was not a good man and she was forewarned.  If she didn’t believe him---at first---that was her problem.  He reminded himself to be sure to tell Wolf that the whipsaw they worked on her, alternating the good and the bad, seemed to be working.

 

Victoria’s body perfectly fit his, her hot skin pressed to him from thigh to groin to chest.  As he slowly stroked her soft skin, he became more and more aroused by her.  She lay tightly against him; his erection was getting bigger by the second and he now had it pressed into the crack of her beautiful ass.  While the warm, tight cave formed there between her buttocks felt wonderful to him, he knew that he wanted more from her, that he would have more from her.  At the same time, he truly didn’t want to hurry her.  While this kid would some day make an exceptional pleasure slave as long as her body held out, for now at least they had some time.  He knew he’d get a lot more pleasure out of her body in a little while if he didn’t hurry her too much right now.

 

Finally, he asked her if she was ready to go on and even thought he knew that she wasn’t, she hesitantly nodded yes.  He rolled away from her and reached out to pick up a tube of lubricant from his clothes which were on the floor by the bed.  She in turn got up on her knees by his side.  Lying upon his back now, he gave her the tube and told her to put some on his erection. 

 

I thought I now knew what it was all about.  What’d been done to me over the last five days had made it pretty clear that I’d been terribly naďve when they brought me onto their floating laboratory.  But I’d just been through hell too, and I now knew what it meant for a woman to be broken and then begin training as their pleasure slave.  The Evil One had called me a whore and he’d been right.  A good woman wouldn’t willingly fuck the three men that had kidnapped and repeatedly raped her.  Well, I knew what they wanted now and that was a whore, a woman willing to prostitute herself at the basest of levels.  And I knew that I could be the best godammed whore they’d ever had---even if it meant that I forever gave up whatever it was that made me unique to everyone that had ever known me.  They all wanted to fuck me?  I’d fuck them all as much as they wanted.  They wanted blowjobs?  I’d suck everything on North America, if that was what they wanted.  I’d take it in the ass too, I’d fuck animals, I’d do whatever it took to convince them that I was the whore that they seemed to want me to be.

 

Enrique was bad, but he wasn’t one of the worst ones here; there were others much worse on this craft.  But I also knew that he only did what he was told.  It was the fact that he enjoyed it so much that made it hard not to lump him in with other two really evil bastards.  He handed me the lubricant and then leaned back on the mattress with an expectant look.  I tossed the tube on the mattress, closed my eyes for a second and then leaned down over his groin and took hold of his erection.  His cock was coal black, about nine inches long and quite slim for its length.  It had a curve in it and was just the right size for my hands to grasp. 

 

I closed my eyes for a long time and then looked at him and my eyes started tearing at exactly that moment, but I ignored them.  I then leaned over and gave a quick flip of my head, throwing my hair over my right shoulder and out of the way.  I kept my face expressionless through will power alone and without any prompting by him, I leaned forward then and slowly took him in my mouth.  He seemed amazed that I was willing to do this to him after Manuel’s brutal oral sex with me just a little while ago. 

 

He was big enough that it took a second to finally fill my mouth with him, and then I began doing what The Evil One had been so devastatingly effective in teaching me.  I wanted to please him, so I worked Enrique’s cock just like The Evil One had taught me; stroking the base of his penis with one hand, massaging his sack with the other and tonguing him as I sucked on his stiffening rod.

 

I hated what I was doing, but I forced myself to continue.  I initially took only the first couple of inches inside my mouth and slowly began sucking.  My fingers slowly stroked and pulled on his skin in unison with the bob of my head.  The fingers of my other hand gently fondled his testicles.  With my head beginning bobbing up and down on his groin more quickly, I knew that he could feel the exquisite pressure begin to build on the tip of his penis.  I slowly increased my suction and finally began to take more and more of his shaft inside me.  I continued to build the pressure on him with my mouth until he looked like wanted to scream.  It appeared that there was one thing that I could do right.

 

Finally, Enrique was forced to grab Victoria’s hair and pull her off of him.  While he had been keenly aware of the intensity of the moment, he was NOT here today to fuck her in the mouth.  He continued using his handhold on her hair and moved so that he could look at her face.  Her eyes were closed and tears were beginning to trickle down her cheeks.  He was still hard as a rock and intensely aroused, but he didn’t know what he felt; it had never gone like this before.  As he pulled her to his side, she broke out openly crying.

 

Enrique mentally shook himself.  He was a professional, but he was rapidly losing control here.  He’d trained many captive women before and he knew that he had to regain control here.  He liked this slave, but enough was enough.  He was done playing games with her.  He gave her several open-handed back–and-forth slaps and then roughly shook her head and shoulders for about thirty seconds.  Eventually, she stopped crying and looked at him with her hands up to her face.  She had a shocked animal-like look in her eyes that he had not seen before; it was so unlike her that he was a little taken aback by it.

 

I was so humiliated that I could not seem to please even Enrique; I felt as if someone for whom I had little or no respect and for whom I looked down upon, even he couldn’t appreciate what I had given up, didn’t appreciate what I’d tried to offer to him.  Enrique had treated me with what passed as decency on the boat, and when I’d try to do what I thought he might like, I found that I apparently couldn’t even perform at an acceptable level for him.  I’d made my commitment to being their whore with all of the emotional baggage that that had required of me and when I’d finally first acted on that commitment, I was now finding that I was inadequate even in that.  I had nothing left to anchor me, no place of emotional safety left inside me or refuge for me on the boat.  I had no value to anyone here except as a mobile vagina with legs, to live my life only for men’s pleasure and worth nothing else.

 

Enrique now made her lie back down on the bed facing away from him.  He knew that she had to learn this lesson---she had to learn that it was her Master that got to choose what happened to her---that she had no choices and no say in the matter.  She would have to be deeply humiliated in order to learn this lesson.  They’d quickly learned that she was one of those people that found it difficult to say anything about the act of sex.  These words and the ideas they represented went against her upbringing and her view of herself; even more, they embarrassed her.  It was silly, but that’s the way she was.  He wasn’t finding the enjoyment anymore that he had in the past when he’d successfully taken one of the Wolf’s women down.  But if he could get her used to these things, no matter how humiliated she might feel now, once she was desensitized to them, she would be well on the road to becoming what they wanted.  And this would please her Master.

He waited for a minute and then began the program that he knew would eventually be used against her by stroking her neck as he asked her, “Does it excite you?  I mean the thought of my cock disappearing inside your ass?”

I twisted to look at Enrique like he was crazy, “Master, do I have a choice?  The thought of you doing that to me frightens me and disgusts me.”

He laughed, “You think it’s disgusting?  Huh.  We’re teaching you how we want you to act—you need to learn how to think and talk that way too.  All right, say this to me and make me believe it.  Say, “I want you to fuck me in my tight ass.  I like to be fucked in my tight ass.”  SAY IT!!!”  He’d rapidly lost the little charm that he’d had earlier.

I looked at him like he was crazy.  But after a moment, I realized he was in earnest as he nodded his head at me as if impatient with my stupidity.  Finally, I was able to comply with his demand, but I purposefully made sure that there was no emotion in my voice; it was the voice of a well made dummy with the ventriloquist far away yet still able to mouth my lines, “I….I want you to fuck me in my tight ass.  I like to be fucked in my tight ass.”  As I repeated his sentence, my eyes filled with tears again, and I couldn’t stop them.

“M,” he said in a chiding, yet slightly menacing tone, “convince me.  Say it in a convincing tone.  NOW!”

I felt as if I were back in one of my high school plays being directed by my old drama coach.  At the same time, my emotions were on a roller coaster, and at the moment they were on the downhill side.  I closed my eyes and my next attempt came out in a much more clear and believable voice, “I want you to fuck my in my tight ass.  I like to be fucked in my tight ass.”  I found that it worked better for me if I wasn’t looking at him when I repeated these awful things.  

“Now say, ‘Shove your hard black cock deep in my nasty butt.’  Go ahead, say it.”

Face burning with shame and eyes closed, I repeated this with little more conviction, “I want you to shove your hard black cock deep in my nasty ass.”

Now say, "I want his black cock rammed up my ass!  I want Jorge to sodomize me.  I want him to fuck my ass!  I want you to please slide your greasy cock up my ass and fill my asshole with your cum!"

 

I started to repeat what he had said as if I were a tape recorder.  While the language that these men used had bothered my at first, I’d learned that I could shut off my emotions and hide in that little safe place in my mind even as I spewed forth their demands;

 

“I want his black cock rammed up my ass….I want Jorge to sodomize me…I want him to fuck my ass….I want you to please slide your greasy cock up my ass, and fill my asshole with your cum!"

 

Finally, he was done with this charade, but I knew that he’d changed again before my eyes.  He’d seemed more sensitive earlier, but now he was less caring, more dominating and certainly more aggressive towards me.  As the lesson time approached, he seemed to have less patience with me, seemed less willing to think of me as a person and thought more only of his desires and needs---and of the role that I played in satiating those fires in him---even for him I was the sex receptacle he used in The Bed.  God, how could I even hope to influence or gain even a little control over a man like Enrique if he didn’t give me a chance?

 

Her last efforts satisfied Enrique for little while.  But soon the silence became uncomfortable even for him, so he told her that they would have to finish her lesson soon since they were now running short on time.  And finally, he began to explain some things to her, the most important of which was to quit playing her silly little-girl games with them. 

 

The one thing he felt that she obviously did not yet understand was that it was her Master who was the one that made the choices in the relationship, not her.  And that the blowjob, what she had just tried to do to Enrique was not only wrong, but was even disrespectful to him as it implied that he did not know what he wanted or know what his slave’s body needed.

 

Vic gave a short nod of understanding and wiped her runny nose on the bedding.  He watched as Victoria now slowly squeezed out a thick, clear inch long line of lubricant onto her palm and began to rub it into her fingers preparing to coat his penis.  Correcting her, Enrique told her to slowly work it for a minute and get the jelly to body temperature before putting it on him.

 

Before anything had even happened, before I had really started on him, I had already started crying and couldn’t stop; I just couldn’t help myself.  It was only after Enrique had slapped my face that I was able to regain control again.  My cheeks burned with both my shame and his blows; I had finally realized that I was incapable of doing anything right.  Even when I attempted to pervert my moral upbringing, my religious training and my nature to please them, I couldn’t debase myself correctly.  Other than spreading my legs, I was of no value to anyone; not my family, not to Bossman, not to any man here.  I was damaged now and I knew that no man I would ever meet from now on, once they truly got to know me, would ever want me for myself.  Worse, I obviously had no skill or ability at what these men had made of me; they had started with flawed clay when they began with me.  And even worse, after willingly coupling with these men, I now had no pride or self-esteem left with which to face them, and certainly not the right to face my family. 

 

I hated it when these men made me repeat things after them.  Even though I tried and tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me anymore, to have look into a man’s face and tell him that I wanted to “suck his cock,” or “have him fuck me in my cunt,” or that I “wanted him to fuck me in my ass” absolutely mortified me and made me feel like the cheapest kind of lowborn slut.  These words and the ideas themselves were both vulgar and indecent and used at a social level far below what that with which I had been familiar.  In my limited experience, only uneducated trash talked like that.

 

Finally, still sniffling, she leaned over his groin and began to rub the clear jelly on to him.  Starting at the tip of his penis, he watched her slowly apply it beginning with the circumcised tip and then work down his stiff shaft.  When he was ready, Enrique told her to lay on her right side.  Remaining on his knees, he moved around towards her thighs and faced her hips.  He then reached up and grabbed Victoria’s left leg and raised it in the air, finally draping her thigh and knee over his left shoulder.  This move forced her to turn more onto her right hip and completely opened her up, exposing both her vagina and ass to him.  He then leaned in towards Vicki’s hips and told her to begin manipulating her clitoris.  At the same time, he put his left hand over her hip and onto her left cheek, and pulled her buttocks apart to expose the puckered brown hole which had been fitted with the hard rubber plug for so long.

 

I followed all of his instructions without emotion, like I was made of metal and wood and plastic from top to bottom.  But nothing mattered now, I was lost, my plan destroyed.  There was no place, no way for me to gain any control over the situation---he just didn’t care enough for me to allow me the opportunity to manipulate him.  He was on course, on schedule and nothing would delay him from taking me according to his ‘lesson’ plan.

 

I lay on the bed with my legs spread and I felt him between my cheeks trying to part and enter my flesh, but while the pressure assaulting me became stronger and stronger, successful entrance was not being made.  First I tried to ignore it, but soon I found myself heaving with fear, like a trapped doe.  I closed my eyes tightly, begging inside my throat---for some miracle, some rescue, some savior---anything to stop this; but there was no answering cry, no saving response, nothing but my lonely helplessness. 

 

It was then that Enrique further spread my cheeks and he moved to slide his rigid member into me.  But the awful plug that I’d been wearing for the last five days hadn’t seemed to have worked as they’d desired!  I closed my eyes and prayed that it was over for now and I thought for a moment that I was temporarily safe, but I wasn’t.  He took his time now and worked me with his fingers for a moment and then on his second attempt to enter me, the tip of him finally slid into me with only a little difficulty.  The pain was great, but thank God there was not nearly as much pain as when I was first taken forcibly by him.  However, I still couldn’t stop the first smothered groan that escaped my lips. 

 

God, she felt good on him; he knew that this was not a moment of pleasure for her no matter how much he might be enjoying it.  That this wasn’t bringing her pleasure didn’t really matter to him at all.

 

I tried to pretend that I was watching a movie, that the awful things happening to the woman up on the screen weren’t really happening to me.  But that too didn’t last long.  My eyes were still closed tightly and my lips clamped to avoid making noise, but I had finally been forced to take a big fold of the bedding into my mouth to muffle the sounds he was forcing out of me.  I felt Enrique slowly press another inch of his cock into my rectum as he guided his slick erection in his right hand.  I fought him as best I could and I knew that it was tough going for him at first as my anal muscles fought a losing battle with the invader.  My anus was begging for me to do something to stop the pain, but there was little more I could do.  I was able to defend myself at first, but after a short second of resistance his erection began to slide easily into me.  The plug had done its job.  I couldn’t help myself as I groaned again at his penetration, but I quickly forced myself to be quiet. 

 

He loved seeing his cock disappear inside a woman’s ass; he always had.  It always aroused him and this blonde teenager felt great on him; her tightness, the way the elastic muscles of her anus stretched to accept his greased shaft.  The way that her dark hole would first tense up and strain in order to keep itself unviolated.  The way that it would widen and extend and then accept all, finally stretching and making accessible to him everything that at least this young female wished to keep to herself.  The way that her asshole would tighten on his cock and unsuccessfully strain to expel the hated invader.

 

He didn’t push hard or deep at first, not wanting to hurt her more than he already planned to.  He was a master at gauging the pain that he forced into his women and the sounds that he forced out of them—how much pain or pleasure he was causing measured by how she might buck and by how vocal she might become.  Victoria continued touching her vagina as he had instructed her to do, both manipulating and rubbing her clit and finger fucking herself. 

 

Suddenly, he was in me.  Thrusting, deeper and deeper, filling me, burning, hurting, almost ripping me apart, burrowing deeper, sinking down and down inside me.  Immediately following his first penetration of perhaps five inches, I closed my eyes and ground my teeth on the gag to keep to myself from screaming any further sounds that I might want/need/feel compelled to make.  I wanted to explode with horror and outrage, to buck and shake and twist, to vomit him out of my ass, to regurgitate him, all the while I would be screaming and sobbing, trying to escape.  We were connected by his unyielding flesh like Siamese twins; I wanted to unlatch myself from him, but knew that it was impossible.

 

Even though I knew in my mind that he had not achieved full and complete penetration at this point, it still felt like he had filled my dark cavity completely.  His presence expanded me, more than filled me on the inside, but the feeling was unlike anything I could explain to another.  The pleasure for him was pain to me and the pleasure for him was pain to me—the thought went around and around in my head, but it still didn’t make sense to me. 

 

Eventually, Enrique began to make deeper penetrations inside my body and even my tightly clenched jaws could not prevent other, more loud involuntary sounds from escaping between my gagged lips.  He was huge!  Everything was going much slower now than the first time he had taken me this way; almost it seemed in slow motion and I was much more aware of intensity of the sensations associated with what he was doing to me and inside me.  He was oblivious of my pain and unbothered by my lack of cooperation.

 

I now knew exactly what it felt like to have voluntarily allowed all of him inside my rear.  His presence there somehow made me feel that everything inside me was permanently altered; I felt both enlarged and dilated and had an extremely exaggerated feeling of fullness, as if my colon were somehow distended.  It was an awful feeling and it seemed to extend from my anus to my colon, from there to my diaphragm and finally it seemed, to my throat and tonsils.  He completely filled me.

 

Enrique now began a slow, rhythmic short stroke into M’s ass.  From what he could see of her face, M had her eyes closed and her lips were set in a straight line grimace over the quick self-imposed gag.  She was sweating profusely on her forehead, but little where else.  Her body was trembling and she was stifling her groans, making instead soft grunting and gasping sounds now with each move of his hips.  He felt her anal sphincter keep grabbing at him, tightening and loosening, tightening and loosening, but her muscle couldn’t hold onto him because of the lubrication she herself had put on his erection.  Her black hole was exquisitely tight on his cock and it felt warm and moist.  He looked down and watched her sphincter stretch into a small shroud around his erection and pull out with his cock every time he moved his hips back in preparation for another thrust inside her.  And when he slammed into her, her anus would reverse and almost disappear inside her body.  It was like heaven to be buried inside her tight ass. 

 

He didn’t think she’d realized it yet, but he still had a couple of inches that he hadn’t buried inside her yet.  He’d let her get used to being his ‘medium’ toy before he went deep on her.

 

This went on for a couple of minutes before he finally and methodically began increasing the length of his stroke into her.  This brought out even louder groans from the blonde teenager and at this point she grunted or groaned or cried out on every thrust he made into her.  The position that he’d made her assume ensured that their bodies were perfectly married at the hip.  If he hadn’t made her lie on her side, he wouldn’t have been able to get nearly the penetration of her body that he was achieving right now.  Enrique hoped that someday when she had more anal experience, she would appreciate his attention to detail.

 

I would never enjoy what he was doing to me, but I tried to force myself to accept it---but I hated it---and him.  I knew that the sounds coming from me were a rhythmic “Uhnnn, uhnnn, uhnnn” which were perfectly synchronized with Enrique’s driving lunges into me---I hated the fact that he could make me grunt upon his command, make me groan with any move that he might make. 

 

His cock felt huge going into me and even though I tried not to, my anal sphincter would attempt to clamp onto him and hold him immobile on almost every thrust he made.  But it never succeeded and I could feel the greasy sensation between the cheeks of my butt as his erection would slide out and then easily be buried in my flesh again and again and again.  At the same time, I continued to manipulate myself as he had ordered me to do, as if by doing this I would be getting some kind of sexual pleasure from this whole act. 

 

I felt an almost unbearable sensation of fullness now in my lower body.  At the end, he was penetrating to unimaginable depths inside my rectum and all I could do was to try to control my emotions and pain, gritting my teeth on the bedding in an attempt to last through whatever he chose to give me.  Tears of pain and humiliation again began to flow from my eyes.  After an eternity, Enrique began to move more quickly, demanding much from my flesh and taking even more from me.  Finally, Enrique was in me up to his balls, his cock completely buried up my most private of holes.  He stopped, perhaps to both to enjoy the feeling of being buried so deeply in a helpless woman and to give me time to recover.

 

The pain eased a bit for me as he just sat there without motion.  I began to think that it was over and I prayed that he had done all that he would to me.  I continued to softly cry into the fold of bedding that I had put in my mouth as an additional gag, my face wet with the tears that now soaked The Bed.  I was finally able to look at him and Enrique smiled back at me; God help me, he smiled at me!  Then I felt him pull out of me slowly, slowly, allowing a wave of relief to wash over my poor body.  I felt Enrique pull out until all but the blunt, circumcised head of his erection had been removed.  The ridge around the tip of his erection remained just inside my body where it could be grabbed by my anal sphincter, and it was.  If this was all he wanted now, I knew that I could accept this.  God, I was so glad that he was done, that it was all done for now.  I could finally breathe again.

 

He held this position and he held it…….…for what seemed like forever……….and then he rammed the whole length of his black cock back inside me again, all at once.

 

The makeshift gag could barely contain my wailing scream.  Enrique dug his fingers hard into my hips and began to fuck me wildly, filling my rectum and bowels, pounding my poor ass with his big, hard cock; taking me in a brutal anal rape that went on and on and on.  He held onto my waist and began pumping me like a madman, in and out, long full driving thrusts into my rear, in and out.  Twisting my hips didn’t help because it felt like he had me nailed to The Bed.  I raised my leg that was still draped over his shoulder to ease the depth of his penetration, but I quickly realized that I was accidentally exciting him even more.  Shrieking for mercy into my self-imposed gag, I heard myself giving muffled screams at the top of my lungs. 

 

He rode me harder and harder, no change of pace, no goodness, no kindness, no mercy and no finesse; only his weapon of sadistic anger and triumph smashing my insides like a pile driver, pushing deep in me like a fist pounding at my colon.  It was like a piston implanted in my flesh, a piston that was going in and out at a hundred miles an hour, a piston gone berserk, distending my flesh, splitting me in half. 

 

“Ohhhh God, no use.”  My legs and my ass couldn’t fight any longer.  I was choked with humiliation and pain and blinded by tears of indignation and hate.  Me, to me of all people, to happen to me of all women---I was a victim, after all of the years of protection by my father, his safety and security; to believe that I was forever beyond servitude and ill-usage---and now to be smashed and shattered and destroyed by primitive animals like this---“Ohhh God, please God; let me die, let me die forever.”

 

Victoria continued to squirm, but against Enrique's tight grasp on her hips all it did was excite him to see her slim young body writhe under his gaze as he sodomized her.  He felt this experience more fully than almost anything else he’d ever done.  He heard the slaps of his loins striking against her ass-cheeks, heard her breathless whimpers of pain and humiliation, felt not only the tight, hot friction of her asshole gripping and rubbing his cock but the gentle softness of her shaved and naked pussy against his balls each time he rammed home to the hilt.  He knew he was hurting her and he couldn’t help himself; in fact that was his ultimate weakness, for at this point he liked that, a lot.  His fingers bruised her waist and hips as his grip locked tighter, pulling her onto his cock harder and faster.

 

He’d tried to stop when he pulled almost out, but…….the temptation was too great and he was too weak.  He’d ravaged her at the end and it had not been what he’d planned for her.  His erection was now buried in her up to the root when he began making the small jerking movements of his hips that betrayed to both of them that the end was near.  His fingers were digging deeper and deeper into the muscles of her left thigh and hip as her left leg continued to be draped over his shoulder.  When it was time, Enrique let go of his load deep in Victoria’s ass and proceeded to cum for what seemed like hours. 

 

Suddenly my burning body was filled to the bursting, a malignant tumor inside once more splitting me, with my two halves parting as if drawn by the rack---I was screaming into my gag but could not be heard, and then I felt him go rigid above me, then I felt him lean over me before I heard him sigh from the depth of his bowels, a sigh that became a long drawn out wail, with his breath in my face and his rotten burning pollution fouling every private crevice of my being. 

 

Finally he was done with me for today.  He dropped the full unrelieved weight of his body upon me, heaving, exhaling, sucking for air.  A half minute, a minute, more while his penis slowly lost its size and eventually slipped out of my body--- soon followed by a thick feeling trail of what must be his milky white semen as it lazily dribbled out of me and then pooled onto the sheet below my hips---and then he was pushing his weight off of me.  He was finished.  I knew what the pig must be thinking; one nice old-fashioned ass-fucking under the belt. 

 

“So that was the real M,” I heard him say.  I lay there as if dead, hardly a breathing human; breathing like a tortured animal with what was left of my resistance after my exertion and helpless defeat.

 

Today’s lesson may have been pleasurable for him, but I had never approached this myself.  It had been an unnatural and terrible act; an unpleasant and painful experience for me, one that I was doomed to repeat on this hellboat time and time again over the next two or three weeks.  I thought I would never understand how some women could feel erotic pleasure at being taken from the rear, and I knew that I would never willingly offer myself to a man like that.  I would rather die than choose to be dominated like that.

 

My body lowered and rose with the mattress as he took himself off of The Bed.  I heard him walk to the bathroom and water run, then the sound of his return.  When I opened my eyes, he was standing near the dressing table, putting his clothes back on. 

 

Enrique considered her briefly, “You’re gonna be alright.  But next time, you’ll try to be better, right?  When you learn a little more cooperation, you’ll be better off.  You gave me a little trouble there for awhile, but I promise you, next time we’ll go the full distance.”

 

I lay there looking up at the ceiling, suffused with degradation, feeling as if dirty things were crawling inside and outside of me, leaving me unclean, feeling sick and suicidal again.  He had been more sensitive to me at the beginning of his “lesson”, but now he seemed to have reverted back to what he truly was—an animal.  I’d totally misread his true nature and had paid the price for my naiveté; I’d now changed my mind about him.  He wasn’t a man I could control, let alone trust; he wasn’t Elvis anymore, he was an animal.  He was The Animal.

 

“You’ve got to admit,” he was saying, “it didn’t hurt you too much, it didn’t do anything too bad to you, didn’t change anything permanently, did it?  Some advice, why not relax from now on?  You know what it’s like and it’s not that bad, so what was all of your fussing about?  It’s over, so why not relax from now on?  You’ll definitely learn to like it.  But you need some discipline and I don’t have time for it today.  We’ll have to see if we can’t do something a little different tomorrow.” 

 

I still had the fold of bedding in my mouth.  I bit hard on it and my eyes were filled with angry tears once more.  He walked over and pulled it out of my mouth, “I guess you’ve earned the right to breathe a little better.” 

 

“There, baby.  Better, isn’t it?”  I looked away from him and said nothing. 

 

Finally, I couldn’t help myself, “God, why’d you do that?  How could you?  I trusted you.  If I ever had the chance, I’d do to you what you just did to me---I’d get you, you bastard.”

 

Enrique was taken aback for a second; he really hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from her.  He truly didn’t think he’d been that rough with her.  But rough or not, she was being disrespectful---and he was a little embarrassed.  So he reached down and with an almost casual disdain, he slapped her twice across the face for her disobedience.  She took the blows without trying to defend herself.  At the same time, he forced himself to respond with a grin, “But you already got me, honey.  You got all of me---again---the most you’re ever going to get.”

 

He got up and walked over near the door to pick up a white and green box that was about the length of a cigar box, but only half as wide.  He tossed this at her on the bed and she saw through her tears that it had not yet been opened. 

 

“I told you I wasn’t a good man, so don’t blame me for what’s happened,” he said to her tearful face.

 

The Animal sat down next to me and opened the box without showing me the contents.  I started to get up from The Bed and he hit me once more in the face contemptuously.  He then roughly pushed me onto my stomach and spread my butt cheeks apart.  I started to rear up in protest, but he roughly pushed me back down on my stomach again without saying a word. 

 

I was still lubricated from his cock and his semen, so it was not difficult for him to put two fingers into me up to the last knuckle.  This action was so unexpected that I clenched my fists and cried out in surprise. 

 

This was the part he hated the most.  He thought to himself, she’s got more than that coming as a surprise.  At the same time, he felt a measure of satisfaction in what he was about to do to her.  She’d just acted like a stuck up teenager and he didn’t feel bad at all if what he was about to do to her took her down a peg or two.  He removed his fingers from her ass and it was then that she felt the cold rubber of the new butt plug resting against her dark hole.  The pressure increased as he pushed it and tried to screw it into her.

 

The pressure on my asshole increased and the cold rubber tip finally slipped into my now tight hole; it was HUGE!  As it finally began to slide into me, I felt panic---it felt as if it were trying to pull all of my flesh inside me with it.  I let out another soft moan of pain.  My God, I thought in terror; that thing was way too big, it would rip me apart; why was he doing this to me?  I felt it spreading my hole until I was sure I must be ripped in two.  I felt his hands slowly pull it out of my body and I let out a big sigh of relief, sure that The Animal was through and that he would not do this to me any more.  To my horror, I began to feel it again press back into me, trying to rip me into pieces.  

 

But I still somehow forced myself to lie on The Bed and accept it.  Up into me and back out it moved, grinding its way deeper and ever deeper into my dark passage.  Tears of pain were rolling down my cheeks and my breath was coming in quick, jagged gasps.  Soon, it was driven even impossibly further inside me and then, finally, I felt my anal sphincter close greedily around the narrow section at the outer end of the plug, firmly locking it in place deep inside my ass.  I felt The Animal let go of the plug and without thinking, I strained to force it out. 

 

"You might as well stop fighting it, you’re not going to be able move that plug on your own," The Animal told me.  “Congratulations, you’ve been promoted.  You’re gonna to be a big girl soon.  Hey, until tomorrow and a little something new.”  And with that last threat, or promise, he turned and left me lying on The Bed.

 

Enrique walked out of the cabin and stopped in the galley to get a cold coke.  He put the sweating can against his forehead and closed his eyes.  This was the last one, he thought to himself.  He was a weak man, but he was also tired of pretending that he didn’t care whether or not he helped prepare these young women for hell.  He liked the sex, but he knew that what he did with these women was wicked, it was wrong and he was done.  But tomorrow he’d follow through like he’d promised her, because that was the way he was.  This trip was the last one for him.

 

I lay on my stomach for over ten minutes, trying not to move or make any adjustment of my hips that might catch the attention of the great brutish invader with which I had just been so zealously introduced.  I wanted to die from humiliation and rage, and finally, from helplessness.  My sphincter muscles continued to work feverishly on the narrower ring at the end of the new stopper and I felt a ripping, burning, cramping sensation in my ass; the muscles there would spasm every now and then.  Finally, after awhile, it seemed that my body was somehow beginning to accommodate the huge piece of rubber.

 

I wiped the tears from my face, and after awhile I was finally able to crawl over to the side of The Bed.  Using the wall at the head of my bed for support, I shakily stood up for the first time since The Animal had introduced me to my new plug.  Standing for the first time was not pleasant.  Bending my knees a little, I slowly bent over as far as I could and picked up the discarded box it had come in.  No wonder it was so uncomfortable; it was over two inches in diameter and over seven inches long!

 

According to the schedule that they had me on, I was finished with all of the men for today.  Hopefully, I had at least fifteen or sixteen hours in which to recuperate.  I realized later that the only good thing about the new plug was that it taken my mind off of what I had been through today.  I closed my eyes for a second and then stiffly walked over to the shower, where I showered myself for fifteen minutes.  It helped; I felt a little better after this. 

 

Coming out, I looked at myself in the mirror.  My eyes were swollen and red from crying---I knew I looked awful.  Well, I thought to myself, if they wanted a beauty, this is what they have.  I brushed my hair and then put on the minimum makeup that would suffice for the men.  Looking good for them was the last thing in the world that I was worried about---but at the same time, the thought entered my mind that I really didn’t want to disappoint them, so at the last minute, I did take a little more care than I had planned on at first.

 

On The Bed, I noticed a small pile of clothing waiting for me to don for this afternoon.  Walking over and picking them up, I found that they consisted of a jade colored lacey shelf bra with matching thong panties that were decorated with corst ribbon.  The bra was made for uplifting a woman’s breasts, but for me all it would do was increase my cleavage.  The thong was lacey and fairly wide at the top near the waist band, coming up high on my hips but leaving most of my asscheeks uncovered.  Thankfully, the back which covered the crack of my ass was wide enough to go over the new butt plug; the wide black rubber part which still peeked out of my body was significantly larger than my previous insert.

 

The black strappy high heeled sandals from earlier this morning were left on the floor and apparently completed my ensemble.  I was nineteen and had never really had the need or desire to wear high heels much before.  The longest I’d ever worn them prior to this was three or four hours and even then, the heels had generally been no more than a couple of inches.  Consequently, my feet were killing me from wearing shoes with four or five inch heels all day and they just throbbed as I thought about having to put on another pair again.

 

It was murder bending over to pick them up, but I finally had them in my hands.  Next, I had to figure out how to get them on.  Sitting down normally right now was not an option.  Finally, I was able to sit down on one cheek on the edge of The Bed and stretch my legs out one at a time to put the sandals on.  My feet were a little swollen and the heels were always at least half a size too small for me.  Combined with the plug in my ass, my every move brought a moan of pain.

 

Even at the same time, although I was groaning the whole time I put on my shoes, in my mind I knew that this was okay.  I found myself confusedly thinking that just like me, the men also had certain needs and desires---they liked me and it was good to help them feel better, even if it did make me a little uncomfortable or caused me a little pain.

 

Slowly getting up, Victoria rigidly walked through the mess and to the steps which led up to the deck.  As usual, the men were setting around the table and two were working with PC’s.  The Demon snickered as he saw how carefully Vicki was walking.  She turned a little red, but ignored all of the men.  When she got to the stairs, she had to go up them sideways with her butt pooched out and off to one side. 

 

Up on top, I carefully laid out a thick towel on the deck in a spot in back where I could get some sun.  I laid down on my stomach with my forearm cradling my face, and at least at this point in my confinement, my breast chain was still attached by a long leader to the deck railing.  After a moment, I felt a shadow standing over me; shading my eyes with my hand, I looked up and saw Bossman.  Immediately I began to try to get up, but my new insert slowed my efforts dramatically.  He told me to stay where I was and wordlessly offered me a tube of sun tan lotion.

 

Getting up on an elbow, I looked at him for a second and thanked him.  Then I lay back down onto my stomach.  I did not feel like talking to anyone right now, especially a man.  PARTICULARLY any men that were on this terrible craft.  But that was exactly what I was lacking right now—free choice.

 

Wolf pulled up a deck chair and leaned over Victoria.  After drizzling the cold lotion onto her, he slowly began to work it into her back and shoulders.  There were no overtly sexual overtones to anything that he did.  He moved her thong down to apply lotion to her buttocks, but never mentioned the end of the new plug that was visible between the crack of her ass.

 

After a moment of this, he began asking her about her childhood and how she had been raised.  She answered him, as she must.  But she answered tersely, not really giving away much in the exchange.  However, he persisted and eventually she opened up more, beginning to actually partake a little in the conversation.  This led to other conversations and other topics, and soon she almost forgot where she was and what she was. 

 

This is how things went for the rest of time he was on the boat.  Bossman would be waiting for her on deck after she’d finished training for the day and if she was in the mood—if it had not been a particularly rough time—they would talk about subjects that ranged from current events to her upbringing to his taste in music and even certain parts of his life. 

 

That first day, they talked about music.  She was knowledgeable about a lot of the music from as far back as the 40’s, but particularly liked classic rock.  This disappointed him.  Even though raised by his mother on classical music, Bossman himself was a Blues aficionado, especially loving the old Blues masters.  Hearing what Otis Spann did to a piano had stopped him dead in his tracks.  Not only did he become enthralled with the Blues, but he’d spent the next twenty years learning about the Blues.

 

After my third or fourth day on deck, Bossman began to talk to me about growing up in the Caribbean and the way he had been raised.  I knew what he was doing, but played along.  After he talked about his mother and in what he believed, I was a little more willing to talk about myself and my family.  Our first true conversation about him took place the next day when he talked about growing up in the islands:

 

Bossman told me, “I wasn’t your typical teenager, I guess.  When I was 18 and hitchhiking around the islands after a woman had broken my heart, I met this guy.  I was fast on my feet, a good talker and you know, all of my options were still open.  This old man saw how I moved and how I handled myself.  He watched me and for some reason he liked me; he taught me some amazing lessons about life.  He watched me and listened to me, naďve as I was, and he bought me food and a place to stay.  This old man was wealthy and the member of several country clubs, but he had a secret life.  While he ran an import/export business, the way he really made his money was by taking and selling women.  Women like you.  I was a big, good looking young guy and for some reason, he opened up to me.”

 

“Mostly he taught me how to pick the right products for the market, how to watch and how to plan.  Always how to look for every angle, to research every move and make back-up plans for back-up plans.  You many not believe this, but I can be really charming to women when I want to be and he taught me all the moves that I needed.  Probably the most important thing that he taught me is that all that makes what I do hard is morals; and there are ways to get over that problem.  It’s easy to see how a kid who had nothing would want to hang out with a guy like him, but it’s harder to see why he would hang out with me.  Maybe he saw something in me, I just don’t know.”

 

He turned to Victoria and asked, “You wonder how I can do what I do.  Well, here’s how.  Do you think that you personally can do bad things and still sleep at night?  Do you still believe that there are times when it’s okay to do something bad?  Do you want to always stick to the moral high ground?  If you do, you’re kidding yourself.”

 

He shook his head, “If you’re married and you tell your husband how busy you are on your business trip, and you’re really hooked up at a local hotel doing your secretary…that’s wrong.”

 

He grinned at her, “I’m not sexist by the way.”

 

He laughed, “But if you’re a guy and call your wife late (because you lost track of time) when you’re hanging out with friends and she expects you home, and you tell her that you had a lot of extra work at the office….is that wrong?”

 

He looked at her harshly, “You steal a Porsche, you’re evil.  You steal a loaf of bread for your family and you get written up as a hero in some political novel.  Right?  Wrong….It’s all wrong.  You fool some of the people some of the time and all of them occasionally, but you can fool yourself every second of the day.  Those guys that pretend that these moral situations are different from each other are just making excuses for themselves.  Stealing is either right or it’s wrong.  Lying is either wrong or it isn’t.  Hurting other human beings is either right or wrong.  But you can save your justifications for someone who cares.  Everyone wants a free ride on the morality bus.”

 

There was silence for a couple of minutes.  “Were my questions hard ones?” Bossman finally asked her.  “No, they’re really not.  The answer is simple and it’s the same to all of them.  Morality is what you make of it.  If you’re okay with it, it’s moral.  End of story.  If you feel bad because of what you did to one of your people, then you shouldn’t have made that decision.  You have to know where your own line is.  I don’t spend time trying to come up with reasons justifying what I do.  I do it because I’m okay with it and then I put it behind me.  It’s either all right or it’s all wrong.  Just because something’s legal doesn’t make it right, and just because something is illegal, that doesn’t make it wrong.  If you still think that there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed and that the line isn’t blurry, congratulations.  Keep on attending your Catholic school.”

 

He finished, “But I come from the school of thought that holds goals as sacred, and I pursue them with a passion, leaving out social niceties like subtlety and tact.  Over the years this approach has served me well.  When I saw something that I wanted, I took it.  So in the end, I guess that my allegiance is to my people and my crew, and not to ideas.  My story ends with that.  And that’s why I have no problem with you being here with me.”

 

He looked at her when he finished and she had a shocked look on her face.  But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore anyway.  He didn’t want to talk about the part where it was just business and that there was nothing personal (except for that lawyer from Amsterdam) against any of the women that he took and sold. 

 

Or about the part where was never a lack of independents doing what he did, but at the same time, every day, there were fewer and fewer competitors.  If they were stupid, they got caught quickly.  And if they were too smart for the police, sometimes they were turned in by their competition. 

 

Or why he’d been so successful, or about the part where it was just as in any other business.  Winners emerge, losers fade away.  And about how it was precisely this game that made his organization so efficient and profitable.  But he knew that explaining any of this to her would be like explaining a butcher’s shop to cattle.

 

I had no idea of what to make with his brutal truthfulness.  He’d opened himself to me in a way that amazed me, but what he told me of his past did not make him appear at all attractive as a person.  At the same time, he was right; he could be charming when he wanted to be.  I wondered what his motives were for being so frank with a woman that he had just kidnapped and raped.

 

On another time, he talked about his successes and failures as a slaver.  He finally admitted to me, “There was only one woman that I couldn’t break.  She never knew when to quit.  That was her talent and my flaw.  Sorely in need of a tight leash from those around her, she was kept on no leash at all.  And in the end, although it cost me a great deal of money, I destroyed her.”

 

“You know,” he said, “a man I used to know always said, ‘God loves a woman who gives in without enduring reckless abuse.’  He always used that term, ‘reckless abuse.’  I absolutely agree with that philosophy; I would much rather work with a woman and train her properly than beat her.  I’ll beat my women if I have to, but it’s not my first choice.”

 

Bossman to me was a contradiction in everything.  While he projected a ‘physicalness’ that often frightened me, at the same time he had a destructively devious side to him; an almost oblique way of approaching things.

 

On another night, he talked about his concept of ‘honor’.  One time he’d lost a lot of money to another man in a high stakes card game.  He later found out that the local Venezuelan judge that he’d played against had cheated to win.  After a long search, he found the perfect tool for his revenge.  He’d responded to the judge’s affront by paying a man with herpes and syphilis to fuck bareback a beautiful, young prostitute for a couple of weeks.  After waiting another month, Wolf then paid the whore $5,000 to seduce the judge and ride HIM bareback.  “I told her to do whatever she had to do to get her pussy around the judge’s dick.”  She agreed and passed along the drip to the judge.  A quick shot would take care of the syphilis, but the herpes would stay with him. 

 

“The judge,” Bossman grinned, “would have some explaining to do when his wife came down with it.”  He didn’t know if the hooker had got him or not, but it made him feel better to think that the judge would be itching his pecker under his robes for a good long while.

 

This appalled me, but at the same time I knew that I somehow felt drawn to this edgy side of him—the dangerousness that he exuded—it just dripped from this man.  Bossman was a total contradiction to me.  He had the kind of personality that could be supportive when it was most necessary, yet he could also brutally cut off at the knees someone in need of reassurance or enlightenment.  He was totally unlike any man I ever met before; the meanness, the amorality, the ability of his to hurt others without a second thought that when combined with his charming side somehow made him seem dangerous and darkly attractive to me as I lay under my covers in the middle of the night.

 

Later that afternoon on the first day of my training, I went down in to my cabin to prepare for dinner.  Although my feet still hurt, I was moving a lot better than I had been just a couple of hours ago.  It seems that the human body is infinitely adaptable.  I thought to myself; if The Animal kept this up, I was afraid that they’d being trying to push a manhole cover into me by the time I was taken to meet my new owner.

 

There was a dress hanging in the corner now and some things lying on The Bed.  Going over to the gown, I took it off the hanger and looked at it.  I saw that it was long white stretch lace bridal dressing gown with a split front.  This was definitely made for after the wedding, not before.  Someone here, I thought, thinks they have a sense of humor by making me wear this.  Bastards!

 

There were some woven designs in the sheer stretch lace; the split in front went up the left thigh to the waist, uncovering any panties I might be allowed to wear.  The material was sheer enough that the bodice allowed a man to clearly make out my nipples and aureoles. 

 

For the first time, underwear was included.  The panties were a sheer white lace G-string, which left nothing to the imagination.  This would go over a white satin garter belt which if I was any judge of what they wanted from ms, would be holding up white stockings.  Moving the stuff on The Bed around, I uncovered a package of very sheer white bridal hose that had a three inch wide band of white lace at the top on which to hook my garters.  Finally, there was a pair of matching white pumps with five inch stiletto heels.

 

I went over to my dresser and began to refresh my makeup.  Finished, I brushed my hair and then walked over and began putting everything on.  As demanded by the routine set up by the men holding me captive, I first put on the garter belt and stockings, followed by the heels.  This was difficult for me.  The new butt plug gave me an abdominal rigidity that didn’t allow me to bend very much.  Thus, I couldn’t comfortably bend over far enough to reach my feet to put on my stockings.  However, accompanied by many grunts and groans I eventually got them on and held up on my thighs by the garters.  Going over to the dresser again, I performed the required routine of facing away from the wall and bending over to ensure that my stockings were straight, tight and had no wrinkles in them. 

 

Walking back, I put the G-string on over my garter belt and finally donned the long white gown.  The G-string was tiny, tiny, tiny; barely covering the thin vertical strip of pubic hair that I had left.  The gown was skin tight in the bodice and hugged my body down past my hips where the skimpy skirt took over.  The gown’s skirt was edged in a ruffled lace and was cut long in the back, leaving a sort of short ‘train’.  But the edge of the skirt rapidly climbed as it wrapped around my thighs.  The right side of the skirt rose to my waist in front while the left side of the skirt attached to the side of my hip.  The opening in the front of the gown was at least six inches wide at my waist.  I knew that in any other setting, the gown would have been exquisitely sexy. 

 

As Victoria walked into the galley of the boat, her lovely stocking clad left leg was always in view from ankle to thigh, while the right leg was covered only momentarily as she walked.  But the gown was so sheer that nothing was ever truly hidden from view.  Despite their physical exhaustion from today’s long sessions fucking this same woman, every man there instantly had a raging erection again.  She was fucking GORGEOUS! 

 

The only thing that really was hidden on her body was the new butt plug, but Enrique knew.  He knew as he watched the stiff way her hips moved when she walked.  It was nothing like the sexy glide that had been characteristic of her on Cancun.  She was, he knew without doubt, still in the grip of his giant hard rubber tool.  Manuel kept her serving them for the next hour, making her walk back and forth getting drinks and second helpings.  They all knew that the exercise would get to her sooner or later.  Both Jorge and Enrique refused to join Manuel’s game and he eventually tired of playing it by himself.

 

At the end of their meal, the men all got up and waited for her to finish clearing the small table.  They all watched as she fixed herself a small plate and then prepared to lean against a wall while eating.  The men were full of old-world manners that night and would have none of that.  The Evil One insisted that she sit to eat and he even grabbed her elbow and helped her over to the table.  She then knew that they were all waiting for her to make her first public attempt at sitting on a hard seat with the new plug in her rear. 

 

Mustering as much of my composure as I could, I slowly began to sit down on the unpadded bench.  I had been cramp free for over ninety minutes now and was just leaning over the table with my knees bent when anal and abdominal cramps began to hit me again, but now both at the same time---and this time they were serious.  I heard The Evil One snicker as I stopped in mid-air and closed my eyes as I grabbed the edge of the table with both hands.  I knew that my face had gone white under my light layer of base. 

 

After a moment, I was able to resume my sitting motion, finally making it to the bench.  But it was obvious that I was sitting on my left cheek as best I could, trying to keep my new plug from making contact with the hard wood beneath me.  I didn’t notice Enrique leave the galley, shortly followed by Jorge.  I was so humiliated that it was a struggle to not start crying in front of the men.  But that small objective part still hiding in the so-far unreachable part of my brain told me to ignore them.  All things eventually come to an end, it told me.

 

Again I had trouble sleeping.  I lay in bed that night wearing only a black fishnet stretch lace bra and thong bottoms.  I was thinking about what had happened today and knew that I had fooled them except for the one time that I was ready to kill The Demon.  That had been a major mistake. 

 

I first rubbed my aching feet and then shifted my hips carefully in an attempt to get comfortable on The Bed.  I’d been humiliated again tonight when I’d had a sudden urge for a bowel movement.  I’d fought unsuccessfully to remove the new plug myself for over thirty minutes, at which point I’d been forced to beg Jorge for assistance.  He took his time and instead he sent The Animal.  By the time he arrived, I was again suffering great abdominal cramps.  He’d smirked and unscrewed the plug from my ass as I lay face down on my bed with my legs spread wide for him.  He’d acted almost as nonchalant as if it were a wine cork he’d been removing; the whole thing had been so humiliating that I wish I could have died on the spot.

 

I had finally been able to do what was necessary, but my anus was so very tender that it was difficult to wipe.  All in all, it was something that I’d rather just forget.  It was then that I’d gotten my first good look at the new plug I was wearing, and I was appalled to find that it actually had threads on the outside to help another person screw it into me.  It felt just as bad inside me the second time as it did the first time.

 

I knew that I was putting the moment off.  With a deep breath, I faced the reality of what had happened today.  I cried for a few minutes and then wiped my eyes.  I knew that I had to be a lot tougher than they thought I was.  One other thought popped across my mind as I was finally getting sleepy and it was brought on when I re-lived the abdominal cramping at dinner tonight.  I was late.  Normally as regular as clockwork, my period was late by a few days.  This, I assured myself as I took a deep breath, meant nothing in view of the stress I’d been under.

 

Day Six: Training Continues

 

I hadn’t slept well last night and so was up early this morning.  After my exercise period, I looked around the room to ensure that everything was clean.  Going over to the tray of food on the table, I grimaced as I washed my supplements down with coffee and munched on the croissant---my throat was sore, very sore.  After eating, I rubbed in the antiseptic cream that I needed to ensure that my breast piercings didn’t become infected.   My makeup was on and my hair fixed; now I waited for the first man to arrive.

 

Sitting in the chair ten minutes later, Jorge watched Victoria dress for him after he’d helped her remove her new anal stopper.  He marveled again at how sexually arousing he found watching a woman put on stockings.  The way she rolled them up her leg starting from her foot and ankle and ending with her thigh; sometimes standing up and bending over to address her thighs while at other times she would just lazily stretch her leg out from the bed; pulling the top of the hose up and stretching the garters down, and finally the slow sensual act of attaching each garter one at a time..  It all seemed impossibly erotic to him.

 

Jorge was a man that appreciated the beauty of a woman’s legs more than anything else.  While he was not in any way immune to the beauty of a woman’s firm breasts that might ride high on her chest and defy gravity, with erect nipples poking into the air or the beauty of a woman’s face, he had always most enjoyed the beauty that the natural symmetry of a woman’s legs brought to her body.  This was why he always had his women put on their bras (if he allowed them one) last.  He loved to see their breasts bunched together as they put on the rest of their clothing. 

 

The view of Victoria leaning over with her hair hanging down covering her face, attaching her garters to her stockings, breasts bobbing as she moved, her arms pushing her breasts together and creating additional cleavage, it all created a picture that never failed to stir his loins.  He’d known from an early age that any woman could be beautiful if just given the chance, and he was a man that had been lucky enough to give numerous women many opportunities to show him their beauty whether they’d wanted to or not.

 

The sum of Victoria’s eroticism far exceeded the aggregate actions she had performed for him this morning while preparing for his attentions.  When Victoria was finally finished dressing for him, he had her stand in front of him and slowly turn around, allowing him to really look at her, to truly see her for the first time.  At that moment, he could appreciate the totality of her beauty, the entirety of her femaleness. 

 

For some reason today, perhaps because he knew that he would be having her in any way he might choose and that she would be forced to willingly give him anything and everything he desired, his hormones allowed him to take his time and drink in her beauty without the bone deep urge that every man on the boat had to ravage her body.

 

She had impossibly long legs.  Her feet were small for her height, yet were perfectly shaped and this allowed her to comfortably wear the stiletto heels, of dark blue this time, that all of the men on the boat so enjoyed seeing on her.  While her calves were already quite muscular, the muscles were further accentuated by the heels she wore; but smoothly so, for there were no jarring angular muscles here.  He marveled at the smooth interplay of muscles on her legs, especially the small ones behind her knees that most men would never notice.  He groaned inwardly at the provocative curve of her belly, the pouty hairless labia visible between her thighs, the tight quadriceps drawing barely seen lines down her thighs.

 

The changing hue of her cinnamon stockings as she turned caught differently the light coming in through the porthole.  The small shadows that came and went on her calves as the silky fabric of her hose caught the sunlight forever altered his perception of her.  And the changing highlights reflected by the nylons on her thighs as her firm muscles played under her soft skin; they all emphasized to him just how beautiful this teenaged girl really was. 

 

It was only now that he noticed that her thighs were a little larger than one might expect for a girl of her build, a legacy he suspected of her dancing or her athleticism.  The tops of her stockings were stretched impossibly tight over her shapely thighs, this fact given away by the lighter tan sheen reflected from there when viewed against the rest of her legs.

 

When she turned, his gaze was drawn immediately to her ass.  From the back, it was framed horizontally by the navy blue garter on top and vertically below by the darker flesh colored tops of her stocking rising from beneath.  Her butt was round and firm and high, and had not a trace of fat as it perfectly met her gorgeous thighs.  There were no incipient saddlebags here; it was astonishing in its perfection, rivaling that of the most developed dancers. 

 

Now she had turned again and his eyes traveled up from the pouty lips of her vagina to her waist; appreciating again how her hips indicated that she had the child bearing capacity that men’s genes force them to find so attractive, but which then narrowed above to a remarkably slender waist only emphasized further by a flat stomach without an ounce of fat. 

 

From there his eyes moved to her breasts.  These could be seen unhindered by the short navy robe of sheer chiffon that she wore over her shoulders but which fell open in the front.  Ah, her breasts.  Even though not a breast man, in all of his travels he had rarely seen such perfection.  Both were the same size and dropped symmetrically from her chest.  They were not too large and not too small, and hung firmly, assuming a gentle pear shape as they fought gravity.  She had the smaller brown aureoles that so aroused him, and not the larger ones that covered much of a woman’s breast.  Lighter brown, almost pink nipples rode high on her breast and stood out even when not erect.  They were perfect.

 

Finally, her face.  She was a blonde angel, with intelligent eyes of jade green that a thinking man could sink into forever.  Her long thick blonde hair was parted in the center and framed her high cheek bones, hanging loose down almost to her butt.  It whirled and moved with each puff of morning breeze and seemed to be almost a cloud that followed her wherever she went.  Her makeup was lightly applied, the merest whisper of base.  But she’d spent time on her eyes as mascara emphasized the thickness of her lashes and liner the shape of her eyes.  She’d put on a lighter shade of lipstick this morning and perhaps lined her lips, because they too were perfectly shaped.

 

She had on the long dangling earrings he’d brought in with the lingerie and they hung down just as he’d hoped, moving with each turn of her head or tilt of her face.  The velvet navy choker that replaced her normal slave collar emphasized her long and slender neck, and only drew more attention to the beauty that lay above.

 

Motioning, Jorge beckoned her to him as he sat in the chair.  She walked over and at his nod, sat in his lap. 

 

“I have talked,” he said, “with Enrique and know what they did to you.  Whatever might have been used to motivate you in the beginning, you have willingly given yourself to us now.  There was no reason for the brutality other than that is the way they are.”

 

“Using viciousness when it not needed is not only bad business, but it is bad for the soul.  It coarsens a man and takes years off of his life.  When their karma is finally added up, it will take them a good portion of eternity to get everything straightened out. 

 

“But you,” he smiled, “your aura fights their karma, and it is a wonderful battle to watch.  While tough on you now, in the end it is they who will be suffering for what they have done in this world.”

 

He gently pushed her off of his lap and standing up, he took her hand and led her to the bed.  He stopped and told her to remove his pants while he took off his shirt.  Finally naked, he told Vicki to get on her knees in front of him. 

 

Looking into his eyes for a second, I dropped to my knees and found myself facing his flaccid penis.  I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice of assuming what these men wanted, so looking up at him for a second I took his nod as approval to proceed.  Reaching out, I took his cock in my hands and stroked it for a second, then slowly licked it prior to putting it in my mouth.  I tongued his penis for a second and then began moving my head back and forth as I increased my suction on him.  At the same time, my left hand continued to grasp him towards the root of his cock and pulled down as I moved my head away from him; his cock would slide almost out of my mouth, but never reached that dire strait.  Then my head would bob towards his groin and the dance would begin all over again.

 

After working with Victoria for a little while, he realized that she had an extremely long tongue.  She had a lot of muscle in her mouth and he took full advantage of her natural gifts.  Damn, this girl was a natural!  Then he took her back to some serious fellatio.

 

After a moment, he pulled away from her and put his hands on her face, forcing her to look up at him.  Jorge caressed her face once again and ran his fingers through her hair, and then he slowly guided her mouth back towards his cock. 

 

As the distance between us became less and less, I closed my eyes and accepted his erection again.  I was really trying to please him, since my objective mind kept telling me how much control it gave me over a man.  I’d decided to cooperate completely with him this morning.  I’d figure out what I was going to do with The Animal and The Evil One when the time came.

 

I began sucking harder and using my tongue more aggressively.  Every time he would groan, I would get a feeling of satisfaction as if from a job well done.  Soon, I was receiving a full-on face fucking from Jorge and I was working hard to perform as well as I could.

 

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer and grabbing her head from the back, he pushed his cock in as deep as he could and began to cum in her mouth.  Victoria still wasn’t used to having a man do this to her, so she turned her head away and he finished cumming on the side of her face.

 

Jorge seemed pleased with my actions though.  He gave me what I guess he thought was further encouragement by scooping his cum off my face with his finger and then putting it close to my mouth.  This was a new scenario for me, so all I could do was follow his lead.  Fighting down the taste of bile in my throat and the shudders that originated deep within me, I accepted the gobs and strings of cum he gave me by licking them from the sides of my mouth with my tongue.  He fed me his cum until my face was coated with so thin a layer of his semen and my saliva that no more could be scraped off with his finger.  It immediately started drying on my face, giving my skin an unpleasantly tight feel.

 

My objective mind told me to forget about being sick because of what I had just swallowed.  It nervously reminded me that I was pragmatic and would have to do whatever was necessary to retain an advantage.  I knew that Jorge would fuck me and probably take me from the rear too.  Last night, they’d all just as much promised that they would today.

 

I had to get Jorge to hurry, the others were waiting.  With a little urging from me, we moved on to what I knew he would consider that main event.  With an inner smile, at the end I felt that Jorge had finished more quickly than he had planned on.  However, he appeared to be pleasantly tired from his time with me and he left, not suspecting anything might be other than he’d planned.

 

I was finally cleaned up, my makeup was refreshed and I was waiting for The Animal to appear.  I admit that I was nervous because he’d all but threatened me as he’d left departed yesterday.  I was anxious to get today over and spend some time alone. 

 

At the appointed time, Enrique entered her cabin.  He watched as a naked Victoria leaped to her feet and adopted the posture required of a slave like her.  Ignoring her at first, he laid out at the foot of her bed several loops of rope, a three inch long penis gag, several different types of dildos, a small canvas bag, and ankle and wrist restraints; after which he walked around checking out her room, confirming that she had in fact cleaned up after Jorge’s departure. 

 

Enrique already knew what he was going to do to Victoria, and while not necessarily something that had been required by Bossman it certainly fit within his guidelines for today.  It had nothing to do with sex, but everything to do with submission and humiliation and pain.  It had everything to do with training and conditioning a helpless one to accept whatever may be forced onto them.  It had to do with making an individual abase herself in the most awful ways.  It had everything to do with using discipline in teaching one to accept her fate and nothing about it was erotic.  He knew it was a wicked thing to do---he was well aware of what a wicked game he played with these women.  He was finding that he told himself this more and more every day.  But he’d gone too far with this woman to stop; there was no backing out here.

 

He knew that he was stalling for time, so with a deep breath he began the deliberate dance that they both knew would end with her being debased and in pain.  Enrique barely lifted his eyelids to look at her.  But when he saw the look of fear in her eyes this time, his own widened in interest.  “I may not be a good man,” he said, “but I’m not a dumb one either.  I see that you fear me—that’s good.  But too, you have an air of calm, of confidence, that doesn’t necessarily fit with a young girl in your situation.  Now that we are past the preliminaries, what are you hiding from us?  And to the real question, who truly are you?  Now we get to spend some time finding out about your true self.  I’m going to spend a lot of time with you, so tell me, why do you let me do this to you?  Why not tell me what I want to know and we’ll speed past the bad stuff.”  He didn’t think she’d believe that, but it never hurt to try the easy road first.

 

He didn’t really want an answer; he didn’t know if she even knew the answer to his question and he didn’t wait for an answer, but walked to the wall of the cabin down at the foot of her bed.  Numerous eye-bolts set in the wall there at various heights and distances apart, and a small, clever pulley partially hidden in the ceiling.  He knew that Victoria had not yet been ‘put to the wall’ and he figured it was about time.  He was still a little annoyed with her from yesterday, and her reaction to him today had definitely piqued his interest in her.

 

He peremptorily motioned her to come to him and this she did slowly, reluctantly.  When she finally stood next to him, he made her put on most of her bindings herself.  It never ceased to amaze him at what they could make these women do after only a few days of pressure.  He knew that he would never crack as easily as they did.

 

First he gave her the gag and told her to put it on.  Grimacing with distaste, Victoria complied with reluctance, loathing every minute of the sham they both knew they were going through.  Finally, it was in her mouth and she had fastened it loosely in the back.  He tightened it himself until he saw her eyes close slightly with pain; he knew then that it was about right.  Next he had her put on the leather wrist cuffs.  When these were on to his satisfaction, he told Victoria to sit down with her back to the wall.  This she did meekly, almost it seemed to him, deferentially.

 

I hated what he made me do for him.  I had thought that he was one of the good ones, a man that wasn’t as evil as the others---how wrong could one person be, I wondered.  It was bad enough to let him do these things to me without struggling; but to make me an accomplice in my being bound, to make me an accessory like this I knew he only did to emphasize my total helplessness in the face of their demands.  The gag was on tight, too tight.  This frightened me, for I wondered why he would feel the need to do this to me.

 

Enrique now took her right wrist and ran a short length of rope through the loop on the cuff and through an eyebolt on the wall that was a little higher than her shoulder and about three feet away from her head.  After fastening her wrist to this, he proceeded to do the same with her other hand.  Victoria now sat naked on the floor with her back to the wall and her hands tied to the wall in a way that forced her shoulders back and her chest arched forward a little to relieve the pressure.  Enrique appreciated the added bonus that this position offered his viewing pleasure.

 

Next he dropped to his knees and tied a piece of rope to an eyebolt located at the intersection of the floor and the wall, immediately to her left side.  He then ran it across her flat belly and then through another metal loop that was directly behind her on the right side.  When he pulled the rope tight and tied it off, it dug cruelly into her abdomen and hips.  With her wrists tied up, the rope going around her waist and then down to the eyebolts in the floor ensured that she was not moving again until he released her.

 

Now looking at her without the slightest expression on his face, he said, “Now we get to see how submissive you truly are.”  With that, he tied loops with slip knots in the ends of two pieces of rope.  Taking one piece, he looped it first around her ankle and then around the big toe of her left foot and proceeded to run the rope through an eyebolt that was located about a foot higher than her wrists and about a foot further away.  When he pulled it tight and tied it off, the toes of her left foot were almost touching her hand that was pinned to the wall.  His actions had rotated her body around the waist restraints and she was now facing more towards the left than she had been.  All of the stress the position caused, all of the torque her twisted body produced was anchored by the loop of rope around her one big toe.  While not immediately painful, it quickly started to ache.  She knew that within minutes the pain would be horrible.

 

When Enrique picked up the remaining piece of rope and approached her right foot, he was ready for her kick at him.  “Not so submissive now, are we?”  He asked her.  “Remember, you always need to remain in control here.”

 

When The Animal had looped my left toe, I’d no idea of what he was about to do.  I was appalled as he pulled my foot up and tied it to the wall.  This left me helpless, or as close to helpless as I would ever want to place myself with this maniac.  And if he tied my other foot like he had this one, it would be awful.  I knew that he would do what he would do, but I still had to try to fight him.  So with a feeling of determination, laced with an overpowering feeling of resignation, I tried to resist.  However, I soon found it to be useless.

 

He easily caught her foot and after putting her right ankle and big toe in this loop, he tightly bound her right leg to the wall above her shoulders and almost touching her right hand.  At this point, Victoria was now sitting on just the back tip of her pelvis with both her legs and hands tied to the wall.  Only the rope tied around her waist kept her body from sliding away from the wall and while her knees were only slightly bent, both of her legs were stretched wide apart, as far as they would go. 

 

In the past, Enrique had especially liked putting his women in this position because there is nothing they could do to protect themselves---this position left their genitalia completely open to him, inviting any activities he might choose to enact.  With Victoria, he had not yet made up his mind how far he was willing to go. 

 

Finally, he shook his head and said in a conversational tone, “You are one flexible piece of ass; I’ll say that for you.”

 

Oh God!  I had hoped that if I cooperated with The Animal, perhaps he would go easier on me, perhaps not feel the need to try and totally dominate me as he had threatened to do yesterday afternoon.  But I now knew that that had been not only a false hope, but had been foolish as well.  I felt betrayed, not so much by him but by how stupidly I had been acting in my attempts to direct anything in this hell that I now inhabited.  I had allowed myself to be made helpless before I knew what his ultimate plan had been, and now it was too late, far too late to try to stop him.  I cursed myself for my stupidity, my continuing naiveté.

 

With my hips bound to the wall and both of my feet tied to the wall above my shoulders, the pain in my hip and knee joints was incredible.  In addition, it felt like the full weight of my body was pulling on my big toes, as they were the only point at which the wall was attached to my lower body.  With each passing moment it felt more and more like each toe would be pulled out of my foot.

 

Psychologically, I was tormented most by how vulnerable my spread legs made me feel.  The feeling of openness, the vaginal exposure, the feeling of such total nakedness that this position brought with it had to be experienced to be believed.  Short of massive physical assault, there was literally nothing that he could have done to me that was more emotionally devastating than this.

 

He could see Victoria looking up at him.  Her eyelids were flickering and there was a pleading look in her eyes.  Sweat was already beginning to run off of her face and chest.  Looking down at her, he said, “It’s a little late for begging.  You should have thought of that earlier, before you began with your games.”  At this point, he kneeled on the floor in front of her and closely examined her sex.  A quick look up showed him that she’d closed her eyes for this examination. 

 

The lips of Victoria’s pussy were stretched widely apart and much of her moist, pink vagina was open for his view.  Nodding to himself, he now grabbed the small canvas bag and opened it, spilling numerous types and sizes of alligator clips and small vise grip pliers on the floor in front of Victoria’s pussy.  When she saw this, Vicki began struggling as if possessed.  Enrique appreciated her effort, but knew that she was going nowhere.  Within a minute, she’d calmed down as she started huffing for air through her nostrils.  Finally, Victoria just put her head back until it rested on the wall and closed her eyes as she waited for the inevitable.  Sweat was now pouring off of her upper body and face.

 

If only I had known that The Animal had planned to do this, I’d have fought him until hell froze over.  He’d have had to knock me out to get me into this position, if only I’d known.  If only…..  I already knew how badly these things had hurt had hurt me in the past.  As he picked up the funny looking pliers and looked at me, I closed my eyes and waited for his fateful move.

 

Enrique was on his knees between Victoria’s beautiful legs.  The muscles on the insides of her thighs were taut and stood out like cables under her smooth skin.  Reaching down, he slowly picked up a pair of the vise grips and showed her how they worked.  Although she pretended to have no interest, after he felt that she was thoroughly familiar with them, he lowered them to her vagina.  At this point, he pulled out her left labia with the fingers of his left hand and put it into the jaws of the pliers.  Both of her vaginal lips were of perfect size to fit on the head of pliers like these. 

 

The tender folds of her naked skin were sweaty to touch and felt quite warm to his fingertips; he spent a minute slowly massaging her genitalia with his fingers before he was ready to get down to business.  He watched Victoria try to throw her body to the side, so he knew that she must be watching him despite herself.  Enrique slowly tightened the jaws of the pliers until they held the flesh of her labia firm, but still not tight enough to cause significant pain or injury.  He looked into her eyes and waited almost a full minute before he slowly began to tighten the jaws of the pliers again.  He knew exactly how much pain he was causing her at this moment and it was not something about which he was terribly proud.

 

Almost immediately I felt a crushing, squeezing pressure as the pliers began to mash the tender folds of my trapped skin.  The pain was as bad as anything that had yet been done to me and it wouldn’t stop, no matter what I did.  I tried to throw myself from one side to the other, but it was useless.  My howls of anguish were made inarticulate by his gag and carried no further than the deck of the boat.  I knew that the Bossman must hear me, but didn’t feel the need to intervene.

 

I mostly had my eyes closed as I threw myself about in a frenzy against my bindings.  But at one point I opened my eyes and to my absolute horror, I saw him preparing another set of pliers.  Frozen now, like a deer looking into car headlights at night, I watched as he reached between my legs, stretched my remaining vaginal lip out and attached the second set of pliers to me.  After thirty seconds, I felt him begin tightening these pliers as he had the first.

 

With the first touch of the cold steel, I felt myself come back to life and I began my helpless struggles all over again.  But it was no use, and God, oh God, the pain…..

 

After he’d attached the second set of vise grips, Enrique leaned back and watched Victoria.  It was much akin to how an old western bronc buster would tame a wild horse.  Take the horse and hobble it tightly, then let it wear itself out fighting its bonds.  In the end, it settled down because it soon realized how hopeless it was to continuing fighting; it was just worn out.  Enrique just felt that there was something funny about this girl, and he wanted to take her past her supposed act of submission, back to the basics and see what she would do.

 

After about a minute, he saw that she had finally worn herself out a second time so he knew that it time to get on with it.  Enrique was aware that he’d put the pliers on her tight enough that she would have bruises shaped like the pliers jaws along the lengths of both of her outer labium.  She looked at him with teary eyes as he now reached down and tied short ropes to each of the eyebolts that held her hips down to the floor.  Next, he took the rope from her left side and ran it under her left buttock and through a small metal loop attached to the end of the pliers on that side.  Finally, he pulled the rope tight and tied it off; this in turn pulled sharply to the outside the tender skin gripped in the jaws of the pliers. 

 

He watched Victoria’s lower back arch even further away from the wall as he did this; he watched as her eyes slowly closed and she acquired an almost prayerful look on her face.  When he attached to the other set of pliers the second rope located on her right side and pulled that labia away from her vagina, Victoria gave out a muffled scream but never opened her eyes.  Her labia were both now tightly stretched away from her vagina, exposing her most private parts to the world.  The moist pink areas between her legs quickly began to dry in the ocean air.

 

I prayed that I could just endure The Animal, whatever he may do to me.  There was nothing else that I could do; and oh God, how I hurt down there.

 

Still on his knees in front of her, Enrique looked at Victoria for a moment and figured that she was probably about ready for the other clamps. 

 

But first he thought he’d use a dildo on her before she got too dry.  He stood up and walked over to where he’d dropped them on the bed.  Picking up the smaller one of the two, he walked back and dropped to his knees in front of her again.  Reaching down, he started to push the device into her.  But he found that there was too much resistance at first.  He shook his head and put it down for he just didn’t have the will power to go through with this part right now.

 

Now Enrique reached down and grabbed one of the alligator clamps.  He snapped it a couple of times to get her attention and when she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, he grabbed her hair with his left hand and forced her to watch as he proceeded to clamp her left nipple.  Both nipples were erect at this point from all of her exertions, and the soft buttons made nice pieces of flesh on which to fix the jaws of the clamps.

 

These particular models had little turn screws on them which allowed the person applying the device to achieve horrendous pressure with the jaws.  Victoria’s reactions to his application of the clamp showed that she entirely agreed with his analysis.  Her muffled screaming however, was grating on his nerves, even starting to annoy him a little.  But ever business-like, Enrique went ahead and put the second clamp on her other nipple. 

 

He leaned back again and waited another couple of minutes.  She was generally motionless now except when some part of her body would independently shake in some weird spasm.  Enrique leaned in close to Victoria’s face and softly asked, “Are you ready to cooperate now?  Are you ready to truly cooperate with me now?”

 

I heard him, but didn’t understand at first what he’d asked.  The only way I could survive being treated like this was to retreat into that small part of my mind that although far away, was always watching, always awake.  My hips were on fire and both of my toes felt like they’d been pulled out of joint.  My vagina was being pulled apart and my labia felt like they are being ripped from my body.  And finally, but not least of all, both nipples felt like someone was crushing them beneath the heel of their shoe.  But finally, in answer to his question, I nodded my head.  This seemed enough for him.

 

He put both hands on Victoria’s jaws and slowly massaged them for a second, then told her, “Okay, here’s how it goes.  You’re gonna take me in your mouth and you’re gonna give me the best blow job I’ve ever had.  You bite me and I’ll knock you out, tie you up and throw you overboard.  Do you understand?”

 

He watched her closely and she nodded her understanding.

 

He continued, “As a measure of my faith in your willingness to cooperate, I’ll take off one set of clamps.  If you make me happy, I’ll the take other set off too, but your legs stay tied.  Are you willing, can you do this with me?” 

 

At her nod, he reached up and took the gag out of her mouth.  When he moved his hands away from her face, she said, “Please take the pliers off.  Oh God, please get the pliers off as quickly as you can.  Quickly, pleeease.”

 

I was in agony as he took the gag out of my mouth and finally allowed me to talk; I was barely coherent as I pleaded for the pliers to be removed first.  The only situation that I’d ever been in that compared to the pain Enrique was causing me now was when I’d been forced to ride ‘the horse’.  That had put a crushing pain on my clitoris, but this, this pain radiated throughout my hips and genitals. 

 

The way he’d tied my legs ensured that my hip joints were stressed beyond belief and they never seemed to go numb.  If he wouldn’t free my legs, removing the pliers that crushed and pulled on the folds of my skin was a close second.  I never thought I’d feel this way, but the clips on my nipples were way down the line when it came to the list of pain and what I wanted removed first.

 

Within a minute, he had both pliers off of her labia.  As the last vise grip was removed, he saw Victoria lean back against the wall and take a deep breath.  The alligator clips were still tightly clamped to her nipples and stuck out obscenely from her chest, but these seemed to bother her not in the least now that the pliers had been removed from her vagina.

 

There was immediate relief as soon as the vise grips were removed from both sides of my vagina.  My hips were still killing me, but it was a tremendous improvement over what I’d been enduring just a minute ago.  If all it took was giving him a blowjob, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

 

Enrique let Vicki take a couple of deep breathes, and then he knelt on one knee and leaned into Victoria’s face, feeding her his cock.  He was semi-erect and she willingly, almost greedily opened her mouth and accepted him.  Quickly becoming hard, he drove himself into her for about five minutes and knew that she was definitely trying her best to please him.  It seems, he thought to himself, that when a woman like her is chastised sufficiently, she reverts back to ancient form in an attempt to please the men around her.  His eyes were closed as he nodded his head; she came from good stock.

 

I opened my mouth as he leaned into my face.  I accepted him without reservation and tried my best to give him what he wanted.  I knew that I was totally helpless and under his total control; that he could still do anything that he wanted to me if he felt like it.  I desperately tried to please him and yet, and yet I hated myself for every moment that I cooperated with him.

 

When Enrique had had enough for the moment, he pulled out of Victoria’s mouth and looked at her again.  She looked at him impassively, but he had the feeling that she was afraid on the inside as if fearing that she had somehow displeased him.  Without saying a word, he reached over and untied her left toe from the wall and let her leg down.  He watched her lean back against the wall and close her eyes as the pain in her hip overcame her for a second.  He then untied and freed her right leg and lowered it slowly to the floor of the boat. 

 

Tears of pain ran down her face as she silently endured the agony of blood returning to joints and muscles that had been isolated for at least half an hour.  If nothing else, this reminded him again of what a strong one she really was.

 

Victoria still couldn’t move from the floor without the rest of her bonds being removed.  Enrique took his time, but eventually she was free.  Standing, he looked down on her and then told her to get up.  Like an ungainly infant, she rolled over to get on all fours, needing to get on her hands and knees before she could attempt to stand.  Finally, acting like a seventy year old woman, she struggled up using the end of the bed as a crutch and stood in front of him.  Without a word, he removed both of the alligator clips from her nipples.  Both of her nipples were a darker red than normal for her and had an angry, bruised look to them.  After this, she stood there with her head bowed, taking deep breathes as if that were the most wonderful thing in the world.

 

I stood there with my nipples red and bruised.  I still had the fading red stripes that marked my bottom from yesterday when Jorge had used his riding crop.  My vagina throbbed and my hips ached terribly.  My legs were shaking and didn’t seem to work right and I knew that I couldn’t walk yet.  I realized that I was a mess, with my hair a wreck and my face stained with tears from my red eyes.  But with my heart racing inside my chest, I raised my face and said nothing.  I looked at The Animal as if to say, what else do you have for me?  I knew that it was a stupid, dumb, insolent thing to do as soon as I did it, but I couldn’t help myself.

 

While he’d felt some pity for her in the past, the studied blank look on her face as she looked at him immediately enraged Enrique.  It was as if she’d slapped HIM in the face.  He grabbed her shoulder and roughly pushed Victoria in the direction of her bed.  She resisted a little and he pushed with all of his strength---she flew across the room and bounced on the bed, landing on her back.

 

“Stay on the bed,” he commanded her.  But he could see that she didn’t want to obey him and this enraged him even more.  He felt like she’d taken his pity for her and thrown it back in his face. 

 

Enrique knew later that he’d lost it when he’d ranted about this latest refusal as being her last.  She was going to be a ‘humbled slut,’ a ‘tamed bitch’ and that while she may not want to do this with him, she didn’t get to ‘choose’ anymore---that ‘choices were for cattle’ but not her.  He vowed to humble her again and again if she didn’t cooperate.  He knew that he was being extreme at this point in her education, but in the heat of the moment, he felt that she deserved it for her last refusal to cooperate with him.  In truth, it was his pride that had been hurt.

 

Leaning over Victoria, he cocked his fist to hit her if she showed any signs of resistance.  When none appeared, he roughly rolled her onto her stomach and tied her hands up high behind her back.  He then tied the end of the rope off on her collar, ensuring that her bound hands and forearms stayed high on her back.  Taking another piece of short rope, he connected the ring in her slave collar to the head of the bed.  Rolling her onto her back, he took the loose end of the rope and tied it over the top of her breasts so that they were flattened by the pressure of the rope on her nipples. 

 

I lay on the bed and listened to his tirade.  He’d hurt me earlier and he would do it again---I knew this like the sun rises in the east.  This whole thing had rapidly spiraled out of control for both of us.  I’d never planned on challenging him like this.  It was stupid of me and could lead to nothing but pain for me, since I had no plans other than passive resistance.  There were at least three other men to help him if he felt he needed it, and if I defended myself now, what would they do to me then? 

 

Hesitatingly, I again withdrew into that special part of my mind and made no effort to fight The Animal as he began preparing me for the next part of his torture.

 

Taking a second piece of rope, Enrique tied it around her left ankle.  Next he tied her ankle tightly against the back of her left thigh, but after a moment of hesitation, he decided to leave her right leg free.  Finally, he tied a rope around her right ankle and ran it through the pulley in the ceiling down by the foot of the bed where he’d earlier tied her up against the wall.  Enrique now pulled on the free end of the rope and dragged her right leg up and towards the ceiling of the cabin.  At the same time, this motion pulled her body down the bed until she could no further because of the rope tied to her collar.  Pulling her leg as high as he could now, he then tied the rope off at the foot of the bed and just looked at her.

 

He’d had all sorts of plans to fuck her and use double dildos and clamps on her.  But as he looked down, he saw that she was in pain and attempting to relieve the stress on her body by weakly supporting herself.  The only things she could use for support were just the toes of her left foot as it was tied to the back of her thigh and her bound arms that had been tied up by her shoulder blades.  The rest of her body wasn’t touching the mattress; not her hips, nor her head and neck; not her ass nor her legs.  Only two points of contact and nothing else; and since he’d forgotten to gag her, he could easily hear her heavy strained breathing and occasional whimpers. 

 

After a moment, he left.  Forcing himself to wait thirty minutes, he walked back in and without a word, let her right leg down from where the pulley held it, untied her left ankle from her thigh and finally removed the ropes that bound her arms.  When he was finished, he turned and left her silently crying on the bed.

 

He knew he’d reached the end when he didn’t want her body anymore, but only to hurt her.  He….WAS….NOT….like Manuel and Roberto.  He was afraid of what he’d become and knew for sure that she was the last.  No more would he do this for Wolf, no matter what he might offer.  He also knew that he would make an effort to treat her better from now on.  He was done.

 

***

 

The days continued to pass.  My training was often brutal, but always consistent.  The three remaining men were now concentrating more on technique than anything else now.  Each man tutored me in anything that they desired.  Each man took from me everything that they desired.  I thought it must be heaven for the men, but knew that it was hell for me.

 

Day Nine: Bossman Talks About His Morality And Other Things

 

It was on the afternoon of my ninth day on his rape boat; I was exhausted but still felt the need to be on deck.  Bossman and I had talked about things that surprised me, like how he looked at morality.  We talked more about my life before him and what would happen to me now.  When he suggested that I had actually learned things about myself, about my deepest desires and needs, I felt like the truth was bursting inside me and that I finally could hold it in no longer. 

 

“Master, may I please answer you without fear of being disciplined?  You’ve always told me to tell you the truth—may I speak it now?”

 

Wolf nodded his head gravely.

 

“Master,” I said with my voice drenched, just a little, in sarcasm, “you say that you think I’ve learned about my deepest needs.  Manuel has taught me how to give what he calls the perfect blow job.  Jorge and Enrique have helped him sometimes.  During this time, I’ve probably swallowed a quart of their semen.”

 

He looked at me in surprise.  This was not the way I’d talked when they’d grabbed me less than two weeks ago.

 

“But I HATE it,” I continued.  “I hate what they’re making me do.  Do you really think that this is teaching me about my deepest needs?”

 

“You’ve had Enrique and Manuel disciplining me every day.  Even now, Manuel still ties me up almost everyday.  I move like an old woman now, my back and legs are always in pain.  And he hurts me a lot---he chokes me and he beats me terribly, EVERYDAY.  You think that I like being hurt?  You think that I will learn to enjoy it?  You’re crazy!”

 

There was no sarcasm now, just a pleading tone begging to be understood; “You’ve always told me to tell you the truth whether it’s what you want to hear or not.  Your crew on this boat has done awful things to me, Master.  And then laughed at the pain they brought me.  Tonight you implied things that just aren’t true.  That I knew about your crew.  That I love being tied up and beaten.  That I especially love being tied up and beaten and then raped afterwards.  I’ve been made to say things that you know aren’t true.  Your crew has gone on and on with these things and I’ve had no choice but to listen to them and do whatever they told me to do.  And then tonight, you tell me much the same thing.  Master, you know these things are untrue.  Oh God, they are so untrue.  And you and your men know that they are.

 

After a moment he replied, “It’s a fucked up world.  There are a lot of beautiful women out there and things can go badly for them as well as good for them.  For someone else, things go well.  You’re young and beautiful---so for you, not so much good anymore.  It all balances out in the end, but it’s hard on individuals.” 

 

He looked at her and said, “Remember, it’s not what I am, but what I do that defines me.  Keep that in mind.”

 

He looked at her for a minute and knew that she still didn’t get it.  “Okay.  I’ll show you what I mean.  Remember Pretty Women?  There were prostitutes out there that were better looking than Julia Roberts and rich guys that could fall in love with hookers and marry them as well as some other woman.  Those weren’t lies.”

 

“But you STILL don’t know yourself.  The lie for you was when you began to find out what your true nature was; when you continued to tell yourself that you believed in things that you finally knew went against your true nature; when you finally began to realize a few days ago what those small cravings inside you meant, but you continued to tell yourself that you could be happier going straight when you know now you wouldn’t be.”

 

“You’re just as bent as any other person on this boat---but you just won’t admit it yet.  Honest people use that lie to protect themselves, they think it’s fun not being in control.  Hookers know that things are better if someone else is running the show.  I know, I KNOW that you’d be happier as a pleasure slave if you could just give control to another---but you continue to deny it.  But someday, you’ll have to accept who you are---you still have to learn who you are.  You WILL be happier when you do that.”

 

“But I’m careful about the women that come through my hands; what these women never forgot and which you need to remember is that there is a contract between us.  If you honor your part of the bargain, I’ll honor my side and leave your family alone.”

 

“You need to make sure that you know what you want in the end: the female members of your family going through exactly what you’ve been going through, only worse, much worse.  I guarantee I would make their lives a living hell.  Or you can honor your commitment to me and become what I want, fulfilling my every desire until I say otherwise.”

 

Victoria had trouble getting to sleep that night.  The next morning, he was gone.  He’d left the boat early; there had been no warning of his departure and she’d not found out herself that he was gone until 10 AM, long after he had already left.  Late that night, his last night on the boat, they talked about his view of her and her future after they had eaten. 

 

Bossman had told her, “You’re in a fucked up place emotionally.  There’s nothing new or strange about that.  Most of the women that I’ve been involved with over the years have gone through the same things that you are now.  “Do I give up my freedom in exchange for the safety of those I love”; “can I trick him now and maybe escape later”, “do I ever have to truly commit to what he demands of me” or “can I exist in limbo, in a world in which I take it one day at a time pretending to be something that I’m not.” 

 

He shook his head, “These are all issues that have been worked out many times before by many women that were much smarter than you.”

 

Gazing intensely into her eyes, he said, “Let me give you the answer, M, or some of the answers.  None of the women that I’ve taken have ever been free again unless freed by their master.  None, not one, has ever escaped from me on her own.  I’ve never experienced anything bad for anything that I’ve done to these women.  You see, I’ve always enjoyed a good relationship with the local police where I live.  I’m not on any police lists, so I don’t have to worry about them.  You don’t know where you are or the name of this boat or the real name of any of the men that are working on you.”

 

“Besides,” he continued with a small smile, “whose going to believe you when you tell them that you were kidnapped by big black man that had half his face covered with a tattoo?”

 

“When you are finally taken to your new master, I guarantee that he’ll keep you on a tight leash, literally on a leash for the next few months until he’s sure of you.  So you won’t be telling anyone about me.  During this time, things will be done to you to absolutely determine whether or not you have truly committed to your new life of slavery or not. “

 

“And if you haven’t truly submitted to your fate, then that will be the worst of both worlds; you’ll still be owned by your Master AND the other female members of your family will join you eventually.  And after they’ve been forced to service hundreds of men, they’ll be sold at an open market, which is the worst place for a female slave to be taken.”

 

“Finally, whether or not you adjust to your new life is up to you.  You’re tough, so I figure that if you have a strong enough desire for some peace in your life, you’ll adjust.  If that drive isn’t strong enough, you won’t---and there’s not a thing that I can do about that.  So I don’t even think about it; I haven’t lost a bit of sleep over it.  Because in the end, that doesn’t affect the bottom line, which is that you’re mine and nothing’s ever gonna’ change that.”

 

At the end of my afternoons with him, I felt I knew my Master as good, and perhaps better than did the men that had worked for him for years.  I knew Bossman as a hard master, sometimes a brute and always a tyrant, an oppressor and as a disciplinarian.  But he was almost cruel in his honesty towards himself as well as those around him and there was a sense of quietly distilled straight-forward integrity in him.  While he had an innate, natural dignity about himself, the kind of instinctive aristocratic self-regard that is immediately known as authentic, at the same time I often sensed a barely controlled violence lying immediately beneath his calm exterior.  He knew himself and never tried to pretend that he was something he was not.  All the time he was indisputability a charming man, one that any woman would enjoy being with as long as she didn’t know what he did for a living.

 

Day Ten: Bossman Has Left the Boat and the Men Have Special Plans

 

I woke up the next morning still tired from my disturbed sleep.  I’d been woken earlier by the runabout leaving, but had gone back to sleep.  I had the routine down pretty well now, so by 9 AM I had exercised, showered, eaten and cleaned up my cabin.  I had rubbed skin lotion onto my legs and arms, particularly concentrating on my feet, knees and elbows.  I’d taken my supplements and massaged the antiseptic cream onto my breast piercings; I now stood by The Bed waiting for Jorge to arrive, butt plug inside me and ready to begin the new day of torment.

 

Instead of Jorge coming in first as had always happened before, The Evil One walked in showing his normal oily, insincere smile.  He was carrying a small bag and had apparently talked Jorge into letting him go first today with me.  Looking at me and waggling his eyebrows, The Evil One said, “I have some special plans for you today.” 

 

I didn’t like The Evil One and looked at him as only slightly less intimidating and evil than The Demon had been, but I cooperated exactly with whatever he told me to do; I didn’t want to give him any more of an excuse than he already had to be brutal to me.  I was doing my best to convince them that I was cowed and collaborating totally with all of their demands.  But at the same time, I was always scared to death of what this particular bastard might do to me, because he was crazy.  The Demon may have been banished by Bossman, but his deranged sidekick The Evil One still rode me in his place.  And Jorge had made it clear that I had no choice except to cooperate with his twisted fantasies, but I knew that I’d do nothing on my own to give him any satisfaction.

 

Manuel didn’t like Victoria.  The first time he’d seen her, he knew he wouldn’t like her.  He’d been taking videos and following her for over a week on Cancun.  She was a knockout and had been flirting with guys in a bar in Cancun, but he knew that she had no intention of going through with anything.  He knew her type.  He’d gone to a school in Trinidad that had a lot of expatriate kids in it, and although he’d tried to make friends with some of the girls there, they’d pretty much ignored him---except for when they were mocking him.  Many of the expat students in his school were from the southern US; since that that time he’d always mockingly called the southern girls “CP’s” or ‘Confederate Princesses’. 

 

Manuel loved his job.  He’d worked as sort of a contractor for the Wolf for quite a few years now, but when Wolf didn’t have a gig going, he worked for himself as a freelancer.  The Wolf never wasted his time with anything but the best product, but when he was freelancing, Manuel would grab just about any female he could get his hands on.  There was always a market for pussy, even if it wasn’t great looking pussy.

 

Manuel really LOVED his job.  Manuel didn’t really like women, but he loved them as the object of his job.  He loved having their sweaty bodies laying helpless beneath his hips as he looked into their eyes, seeing the pain in their face.  He loved hurting women; making them scream, cry and groan in pretend pleasure as he went about making their lives miserable.  He especially liked working on goody-girl CP’s; mentally, some of them seemed to take it the hardest when mounted, broken, trained and eventually turned into sluts by black men. 

 

It seemed like the CP’s he’d been breaking were getting younger all the time.  This cunt was still fairly young.  In the past, they’d generally been in their mid to late 20’s and often professionals.  He loved breaking the professionals.  They thought they were experienced and hard-headed; they were the ones that had the money to go on what they had thought would be an exotic vacation to the Caribbean, and South and Central America.  Instead, they’d run into him and would just disappear from family and friends forever.  Most of the earlier ones that he’d help break and train would have been sold now by their Masters to pimps and they were probably crack whores, infected and looking 60 years old instead of being in their early 30’s as most of them must be now.  Life was a bitch, he thought, and then somebody sold your ass a hundred and fifty or two hundred times a week.

 

In his time, he’d had the opportunity to help break lawyers, CPA’s, engineers and even a medical intern once.  She’d been great.  He liked to keep his pets gagged while he trained them, but not this one.  She’d been smart as hell and he’d made her tell him the medical term of every part of her body that he was fucking up, WHILE he was fucking her up.  It still cracked him up the way she’d whimpered or screamed and how her voice would crack with pain as she described to him in great anatomical detail how and where he was using a whip on her genitals and what it was doing to her.

 

Manuel didn’t like Victoria.  She reminded him of the worst parts of his early life.  She was, he thought, spoiled and stuck up, a typical rich bitch.  He knew that she thought she was special; her parents had probably given her everything she’d ever wanted and he knew that a girl like her would never even pretend to notice a man like him.  Women like her always saved themselves for the men that had it all.  So it was with great pleasure that he used her body against her, and it gave him even greater pleasure that it was all against her will. 

 

He looked at her for a second and then he said, “You’re all the same.  You think that you’re hot shit.  But where’s all that confidence now?  You’re so pretty, but I’m only giving you what you deserve.  Don’t you realize that?  I love to make examples of women like you.”

 

He wanted to hurt her.  He wanted to humiliate her.  He’d never needed penetration to enjoy doing a woman.  He’d always been able to get his nuts off by hurting them and seeing the look of shock and pain in their eyes.  That look really turned him on.  At the same time, he was not averse to trying to make them cum every now and then, but only because that was what HE wanted to do.  He didn’t give a goddamm about pleasing them.  It was all about manipulation and today he was going to see what it was about this particular teenager that seemed to have turned on every member of the team.

 

The cunt had a fearful look on her face as Manuel first bent her over the foot of the bed and roughly half-pulled, half-turned the giant threaded butt plug out of her ass.  Her quick gasp and grimace of pain made him feel like he was starting the day off right.  Grabbing a handful of her thick hair, he pulled her head back and stuffed a thick, two inch long penis gag into her mouth and fastened it in back of her neck.  Without a pause, he then pushed her toward the bed and told the slut to lie down on it naked.  Taking a pair of leather wrist cuffs, he put them on her wrists and pulled her wrists down by her sides, attaching each arm to small recessed eyebolts about half way down on either side of her bed frame. 

 

Being totally submissive to him, she’d offered no resistance and was now helpless, with her arms now immobilized and pulled away from her body.  Taking leather cuffs with D-rings attached, he placed them around the cunts’ ankles and tightened them.  Then he took a long piece of rope and tied it around her waist with the free end at her back.  Finally, he then ran it down between her legs to the foot of the bed where he pulled it tight before he tied it off. 

 

Next Manuel grabbed her left ankle and pulled her impossibly long leg straight up into the air and then back towards the head of the bed.  Pushing down on the back of her left calf until her knee was touching the top of the mattress beside her head, he then fastened that ankle cuff low down the corner bedpost.  She’d started struggling a little and making a few mewling noises now, so he knew that it probably didn’t feel too good.

 

As with the left leg, he bound her right ankle by tying it very low on the other post at the top of the bed.  This time as he began to bind her, she attempted to fight him, but he just kept hold of her ankle and leaned into her with all of his weight.  Fighting it didn’t do her any good—her bound wrists and the rope around her waist ensured that her upper body remained fairly flat on the bed, but both of her ankles were now tied up around her ears and spread a little over four feet apart.  Coincidently, her long legs allowed him to put a lot of pressure on her hips in this position---added inducements were always good.  In addition to keeping the bitch healthy, the aerobics had also kept her flexible enough to be bent almost double.  He loved working with women that had hidden talents like this. 

 

Finally, to make sure that she didn’t try to move around on the bed, he took small alligator clips attached to long pieces if twine and clipped one to each of the slut’s nipples.  He then ran the free ends of the twine to the side of bed closest to each nipple and tied it so that each line was taut.  No matter what direction she’d try to move, she would find a clip pulling on her tit.  That’d make her want to stop pretty fucking quickly, he thought to himself.

 

With my arms tied to the sides of The Bed and my legs spread and tied to the bed posts to either side of me, I suddenly found myself resting only on the upper part of my back and my shoulders.  The clips on my breasts forced me to keep my chest immobile.  My lower back and hips on the other hand, were lifted straight up into the air but pulled towards the foot of the bed because of the rope around my waist.  In this position my tormented ass was the uppermost part of my body available to view---and the perfect work bench for him. 

 

My hips and lower back were killing me in this position and the joints in my hips and knees screamed to be released from the terrible pressure that he’d just put on them.  This position and the pain it caused me brought back immediate memories of what The Animal had done to me only a few days ago.  My hips had still ached every now and then from that and I still had not fully recovered in other ways from what he’d done to me.

 

Her asshole now twinkled at Manuel with her curved ass cheeks lying in emphasis on either side and the hairless slit of her cunt was visible just above it, with the little shaved pubic hair that remained pointing towards Victoria's head.  Both her pussy and ass were completely exposed in graphic detail.

 

He’d never really taken the time to look at this teen, to really feel what her body was like.  So he slowly leaned between her legs and slid his hands up the back of her thighs to the area behind her knees.  The muscles in the back of her legs were now stretched taut and he was amazed at how soft her skin was, yet how firm her legs were.  His hands slowly wandered back towards her vagina and he slowly stroked her.  She’d begun to sweat in between the folds of her skin there and as his fingers opened up her labia, he exposed the cavern between her legs which all of the men on the boat had taken so much delight in filling. 

 

Manuel could hear her chuffing for breath through her nostrils.  He looked between her thighs and gazed at her face.  Her green eyes were wide open and the pupils dilated—she must like this he thought to himself.  Manny heard Victoria moan softly as he manipulated her vagina.  He explored her with his fingers and marveled at the musky smell that she left on him---her pheromones alone made him hard for her.  He slowly gave his fingers an exaggerated lick, just for her benefit.

 

“You cunt,” he said to Victoria, “you belong to me today.  I don’t give a shit how much you want to do good with me; you’re in my house today.  And it’s always been the house of pain for sluts like you.”

 

Still leaning between her spread thighs, he slowly moved his hands up her abdomen until they covered her breasts.  Even folded in half her stomach was taut with no rolls of excess flesh.  Her breasts were rather squashed with her knees pushing into the sides of her chest, but he still enjoyed playing with the clips on her nipples for a minute before he let his hands trail back down her belly and between her legs.  He noted that she closed her eyes as he explored that part of her body again.

 

She was nude between her legs except for the thin sliver of curly pubic hair which had been left on purpose.  His fingers now explored her ass, with first one and finally two fingers pushed into her.  He wiggled them inside her and then spread them apart as far he could while slowly pulling them out of her rectum.  He heard her give a couple of appreciative groans, but he wished she was a little more expressive.

 

Finally, he couldn’t help himself.  He seldom had oral sex with the women he trained; eating them seemed so nasty since they were generally already so full of other men’s semen by the time he got to take his turn.  But she was so fresh this morning, so untouched----so available at this moment that it seemed like the right thing to do.  Slowly he lowered his face between her legs and let his mouth cover her vagina, making such a perfect seal for the suction that followed that he felt her hips jump in pleasure.  His tongue probed her and she jumped again.  He slowly licked her vagina with his tongue for a little while longer.  He knew that she was enjoying this a lot. 

 

After giving her a couple of minutes of pleasure with his mouth and tongue, Manuel took out a large vibrating dildo and teased it around Vicki's clit a bit before inserting it in her now gaping cunt.  He easily stuffed it in as far as it would go and then switched it on.  The overwhelming vibrations immediately made Victoria start to buck in her bonds and she groaned in rhythm with the mechanical buzzing sound.  He knew that she was in such intense pleasure that she just couldn't help thrashing her head from side to side and moaning through her gag. 

 

Finally, he stripped and climbed up on the bed with her.  He was relatively hard after his initial play with her, but taking his cock and running it over her vagina as it vibrated really turned him on.  Finally, he took out the vibrator.  Leaning forward and bracing himself with his left hand on the wall in back of Victoria, he leaned into her upthrust hips and with one practiced move, buried himself up to his balls in her gaping cunt with the first move of his hips.  She may have been a little dry, but damn, she sure was opened up and waiting for his cock.  God, he loved this position for the way it opened these sluts up for fucking.

 

The Evil One was a sick son of a bitch, had always been a sick son of a bitch and would always be a sick son of a bitch.  He was rough with me from the beginning I supposed, because he liked hurting women.  He’d thrown me over the bed and almost ripped the plug out of my ass in his haste to fuck me.  I couldn’t help but give out a grunt of pain, but he only seemed turned on by it.  After cuffing and gagging my, he’d pushed me onto The Bed and then began tying me up.  As soon as I realized what he intended, I tried to fight him, but it had been too late.

 

By the time he was done, I was in such a contorted position that it was difficult to breathe.  This scared me a little because Bossman was gone and I just didn’t have a lot of confidence in Jorge being able to control Manuel.  The way he touched me didn’t feel too bad…..Oh my God, I thought to myself, I’m getting used to being touched by these men.  The thought scared me---that I could become so hardened this way.

 

No matter how right it might sometimes seem for me to cooperate with them, I didn’t care for the way that The Evil One kept running his hands over my body, and especially didn’t care to have him perform oral sex on me.  No matter how determined I’d been to not do anything that might mistakenly urge him on or give him any satisfaction, when he’d pushed the vibrator into me, he’d pushed it in so deep and so hard that I hadn’t been able to prevent a groan of pain escaping from me. 

 

Finally, I could tell that he was ready.  I felt total resignation when he reared up between my legs and aimed himself into me---the look of intense concentration in his eyes, the sweat beading on his upper, the way he held his erection in order to better aim---everything he did focused his sexual energy on my helpless body.  I closed my eyes as I saw the beginning of the move that would impale me; I knew it was coming, but I still couldn’t stop from crying out even as he pushed himself deeply into my dry vagina.

 

The cunt lay underneath him and groaned in pleasure with each of his thrusts into her.  Damn, I’m good, he thought to himself.  She was moist for him now, and her pussy was warm and even somewhat tight on his erection.  He knew that he had to be careful here.  The angle at which he had her tied meant that he couldn’t comfortably push straight into her pussy.  Instead, he had to lean over her and push himself off of the wall at her head or her snatch would force his cock down and away from his body more than was normal or comfortable.  At the same time, he knew from past experience that this angle of penetration into her pussy didn’t feel too good for her either.

 

The more she responded to him, the more brutal his moves became until he was urgently slamming his hips into hers with no regard for her pain or pleasure.  Finally, he’d gotten what he needed and he came in a tremendous burst of semen that went deep into her; he held his final thrust in place inside her for several minutes after he’d drained his balls into her.  It seemed like the tip of his cock was on fire as he kept it pushed into the thick, burning pool of his ejaculate that had accumulated inside Victoria near the top of her cervix.  Damn it felt good, he thought to himself.

 

The Evil One took me just like I’d become used to.  “Bastard!  What a pig!” I thought to myself.  It had hurt a lot when he first took me, I hadn’t been moist and wasn’t ready for penetration.  But as he took me, I finally became lubricated and the pain seemed less cutting inside of me.  But most of his thrusts did go deep and they really did hurt me, but if ever I could help myself, I’d be damned if I’d give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

 

His fucking style was a seemingly endless series of loveless lunges and penetrations.  The Evil One had hurt me each time he’d thrown himself into me and although I tried, I couldn’t help but cry out in reaction to much of the pain that he brought me.  He not only buried himself in my pelvis, he pushed my hips toward the wall with his in an attempt to further contort my body and drive me through the bottom of the bed.  Even though it felt like my arms were being pulled out of their sockets, eventually, it was over.  He groaned appreciatively and leaned into me, resting on my hips and using his weight to drive my shoulders into the mattress.  I looked at him leering down on me and then closed my eyes and turned my head away from him as best I could.  At first he seemed to be satisfied with what he’d done to me, but within moments I had glanced back at him and his face had taken on a darker look.

 

At first he felt good about having done her, but after a minute something came to mind.  He looked down at her and said, “You know, you stupid cunt, most women don’t like being fucked like that.  Something about the angle that I’m pushing into them or something.  But you, you bitch; you moaned like you loved it the whole time.  There’s something rotten about you.”

 

With that, he pulled out of her, got off the bed and stalked out.  He was gone for a second, but returned with a short, supple cane whip.  He was flaccid now, but even then, he was as large as most men when erect.  His penis hung down on his left thigh as he returned; it looked gleamed and looked moist from her juicy pussy.  He got back on the bed between Victoria’s legs and showed her the whip, bending it back and forth to show her how flexible it was.  He watched the cunt go nuts struggling, shaking her head no and trying to free herself from the wall; all he could do was laugh at her pathetic attempts.  “Fucking pussy’s,” he said, mangling his metaphors, “on the other shoe now, isn’t it bitch?”

 

Manuel took the vibrator that he’d put down a few minutes ago, turned it on and then stuck it all the way into her gaping hole again in one smooth move of his wrist.  There was a juicy slurping sound as it went in and he knew that his semen was still pooled right at the entrance to her cervix.  He thought this was funny too---just let her stew in his juices for awhile.  Then he picked up the cane whip and cracked it once in front of Victoria’s face. 

 

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure that it had been a good idea to just go with the flow with him.  I’d been so involved in thinking that I was controlling the game that I’d forgotten that there were still some rules of which I either wasn’t aware or over which I had no effect.  When he came back in with the whip, that’d scared the hell out of me.  EVERYTHING he did scared the hell out of me from this point on! 

 

Without warning, Manuel hit her viciously in her genitals with his whip.  It left a continuous red mark that began on the right side of her lower stomach, went immediately over her clit and continued on the left side of her vagina where her labia were pushed out by the vibrator, and then went on up the inside of her left thigh a little before going back down and ending on the underside of her left buttock.  It stung like fire and her clitoris felt like someone had just held a lighted cigarette to it.  Vicki gave a muffled scream of pain and arched what little she could in an attempt to move her private parts away from any further assaults that might be coming from him.  He looked at her for a second, touched his fingers to his tongue to get them wet with his saliva and then slowly ran them over the red streak which was rapidly turning into a nice red welt.

 

Slowly, taking his time, he cocked his arm back with the whip and looked into her eyes.  She was pleading with him through her gag, but it did no good as he whipped her again on her genitals, but now on the other side of her vagina.  Victoria was screaming and throwing her body from side to side in a desperate but futile attempt to free herself from his bonds. 

 

He laughed and said, “Beg for your life.”  He listened to her screaming and crying, and watched her body jiggle with fear.  But there was nothing coherent coming from her because of the gag.

 

“You’ll have to do better than that.  You can’t treat men like you do and not expect to pay for it.  Beg, you bitch!””

 

He took his time, hitting her not more than once a minute on the average.  Manuel removed the vibrator from her pussy after about five minutes because it seemed to be getting in the way of his whip.  After less than ten minutes of being whipped, Victoria was covered with sweat and she was a screaming, whimpering wreck, begging him through her gag to stop.  It was an amazing sight, but he could actually see Victoria’s anal sphincter straining; the puckered brown hole opening and closing as if it were a fish gasping for air!  The Evil One thought this was hilarious.  The insides of her thighs, her cunt, her ass and her belly were covered by a fine criss-cross pattern of red that was rapidly raising into welts. 

 

Finally, he hit me again with the hardest stroke he’d used so far, at an angle that allowed him to rip both sides of my vagina.  It was too much for my body and suddenly I lost control of my bladder.  Urine began to squirt up and out from between my hips.  I tried to stop, but controlling the flow was impossible.  It pooled between my legs and ran down my rear.  It ran down the front of my body around and between my breasts.  Almost immediately I was lying on my shoulders in a small puddle of my own urine.  After a moment, I ultimately was able to exert some influence and the stream of yellow slowed to a trickle and finally to a stop.  I closed my eyes and turned my burning face away from The Evil One.  HE had done this to me, may he rot in hell.

 

“This was the first time,” Manuel thought to himself, “that anyone had really just sat down and taken a nice whip to the lying bitch.  Maybe that’s what she’s needed all along.”  He walked out and talked with Jorge and Enrique.  Jorge was furious with what he’d done; while they both agreed that she was hiding something, it was impossible to do anything more with her right now what with the being soaked and all. 

 

Manuel walked back in and untied Victoria, all the while he was telling her what a poor excuse for a cunt she was and how unworthy she was.  Under his piggish eyes, she moved slowly and with difficulty as she changed the sheets and used enough freshener to get rid of the smell.  Manuel watched her take a quick shower before Enrique arrived.  She moved like an old woman and was in no shape to take on another one of these men, let alone two more, but that didn’t really matter to them.

 

***

 

It was late and I was lying in bed, but I couldn’t sleep.  I hurt all over, but mostly I was in pain between my legs.  I carefully moved again to try to get in a more comfortable position, but the giant rubber plug in my ass wouldn’t allow it.  I didn’t think that it was an accident that this had happened on the day that Bossman had departed the boat.  I thought back to yesterday afternoon.  He was gone now and I missed him somehow.  While I knew that many would consider him an awful man, he also was also the mainstay that kept everything going smoothly on this boat.  He’d also saved me from the maniac Roberto and I owed him my life.

 

More than that, I had finally realized that there was something more going on with him than he’d ever let on to me before.  I’d gone over this in my mind, time after time again.  And it always added up to one impossible fact.  Yesterday afternoon, he’d begun talking to me, steadily looking into my eyes as he did.  He talked about himself and things he had done in the past; he talked about me and his insights into why I was the way I was; he talked about the future---his and what he would do next, and about mine---I had none.  I’d listened, I had first been aloof, then curious, and finally sympathetic; I’d studied his broken face and his eyes had been eloquent as I listened.  But I had not guessed his secret.  Not until my last look—strange, deep, potent—had I even begun to fathom that there were things going on here that I would not know until it was too late.  He’d already be gone by then.

 

And now, with intelligence and a woman’s intuition, Victoria went over in retrospect the previous meetings that she’d had with Bossman.  At first there had been the quick, brutal sex.  But she felt that it was somehow more than that now, and the afternoon talks with him had made that clear.  And finally, after a long review of her time on the boat, the truth she suddenly discerned made her sharply catch her breath---Bossman had fallen in love with her! 

 

Her intuition declared this, while her intelligence screamed and fought and denied it.  Never before had she been afraid to look into herself, but she felt something here that she could not explain.  Now she was finding unknown depths of feeling, secret chambers of dreams into which she had never let the light; strange instinctive activities, more physical than mental.  When in her life before had her heart ever beat like this?

 

Victoria finally cried herself to sleep.  That night, for the first time she had nightmares.  In her dreams, she was always chased by this huge fish that tried to eat her.  It was an abnormal fish, like a video-game fish.  Then, Bossman always came into the picture and saved her. 

 

Day Twenty-Six: Victoria Watches Television

 

Victoria’s lower back had been in bad shape for a couple of days after Manuel’s attentions; she could barely walk, but the demands on her body from the men never ceased.  It took two days for the marks from the whippings to disappear, but it took months for her mind to heal from their attentions.  However, her remaining time on the boat was less eventful than the day on which she had been whipped---if one ignored the rapes, the sodomies, the beatings and the bondage. 

 

It was now the morning of my twenty-sixth day on the hellboat.  Bossman had now been gone for fifteen days, but I still thought of him daily.  I got up and went through my early routine in preparation for the day’s training.  The early part of the day was always okay, but to get through the rest of the day I had learned to put my body on cruise-control and shut my mind down for the most part.

 

Odd thoughts whizzed through my mind, strangely inappropriate for my situation.  I realized how much I missed the companionship of another woman; I thought about how much I missed my aunt and parents, and I wondered how my friends were doing in school.  It was crazy, but I even wondered how the school football team was doing.

 

While waiting for the first of them this morning, I thought back to how I’d been trying to handle them.  I’d submitted and pledged my cooperation, but that did not include any promise of giving, of loving, of warmth.  They’d inadvertently had that a few times, but none had cared enough to determine how they’d dragged that response from my resisting body.  Even so, I found myself cooperating with their physical demands more and more easily; sometimes it was as if I almost found myself willingly satisfying their lust and their demands.  This last frightened me when I finally realized what I doing.  But worse, it was what they were doing to my mind that I feared the most---sometimes I just felt like I was going insane or was already psychotic

 

I had merely promised to go along passively, without vocal or physical resistance.  Bossman was long gone, but he still haunted my dreams.  Yet, even as I voluntarily gave these men what they demanded from me, it was becoming more difficult to contain my venom toward them; to restrain that almost automatic instinct to try to oppose or thwart them.  At the same time, I had to remind myself constantly that I dare not go too far unless I risk losing their promise to leave my family alone.  I just knew that the terrible things being done to me on this awful boat were making me lose touch with reality.

 

Despite the realization that I had not had any other choice, I still hated myself for agreeing to the bargain that I’d made, for putting myself in a situation where I was continually being forced to submit to them sexually.  Yet this self-hatred was somewhat relieved by the knowledge that I hated my captors even more; that I abominated and abhorred them with a passion that could not be articulated in words.  That I hated them with such a passion that even as I cooperated with them, it left me lusting only to retaliate against their inhumanity, to obliterate each of the remaining three from the face of the earth.  Even Jorge was now included in this group.  But I couldn’t because of my bargain with Bossman.

 

Right now, I was waiting; I just wanted them to hurry, to come into my cabin so that I could have it done with, so that I could earn my temporary escape onto the deck above and into the sunlight.  The Evil One apparently was first today, since he’d earlier dropped off what I was to wear first this morning.  Surprisingly, it was a nice, decent skirt and blouse combination. I dressed and then waited for them, as I had so many times before in the last few weeks.

 

Jorge, The Evil One and The Animal walked into my cabin en masse and I leapt from my seat to assume the hated position that acknowledged being owned by another.  Instead of one of them taking me to The Bed, they began to set up a small laptop and connect it to the TV.  When all was ready, The Evil One pulled a chair near the bed and instructed me to sit in it and watch; I was not to move until they gave me permission to do so.

 

As the other two men hooked up the laptop to the TV monitor, Jorge began to explain.  He said, “Every now and then over the last ten years, we’ve been able to “recruit” the talent that is simply better than what we can normally provide to our clients.  When this occurs, we take video of this woman while she is being trained.”

 

Manuel now took over the explanation.  “You may wonder, you stupid woman,” he said, “what this has to do with you?  Well, we’ve made the half hour film which starts with you on Cancun and ends yesterday while we trained your sorry ass.  When we can, we’ll finish by taping a few hours of your first days with your new Master---assuming he approves.”

 

He continued, “When we grab a piece of ass that is beautiful enough to make it worth our while, we create a sort of “how-to” tape for the business.  I want you to know that I don’t think that you are at that level, but the others do.  Your Master allows us to make and sell these tapes.  We get to keep the profits and they make us much money in Asia, Eastern Europe and Latin America.  I can tell you that all men around the world are the same; they just LOVE to see the real process of a beautiful woman being broken and sexually enslaved; and they’ll pay a lot of money to see it.  So thank you for offering to help us make this film.”

 

I sat in my chair with my mind blanked by shock.  The Evil One was a coarse, vulgar man and I’m sure that this is the effect that he wanted to have on me.  I wasn’t even thinking about what the film might mean to me.  Instead, I felt both embarrassed and angry that he could still be so successful in manipulating me after all that had occurred in this place of pain.  I knew that I was so much harder inside now than I had been even a couple of weeks ago, so why did he still so easily bother me like this?  I had no answer to this question.

 

The TV screen now flickered into life and I saw a relatively amateur screen which proclaimed it to be Volume Number 7 of the “The Collectors,” followed by “Recruiting M” on the next line.  This was followed on the next screen by a standard disclaimer which proclaimed that everyone involved in making this movie was a paid model and that the whole thing was a piece of fiction.  Huh, “paid model” I thought to myself.

 

While Victoria had not been aware of this, there had been six previous movies made in this series.  The first was of the self-important brunette lawyer with the long brunette hair from Amsterdam.  Wolf had been so infuriated by her arrogance that he’d insisted that a record be made of her total humiliation and subjugation, recording every detail of her being broken and of her pride being shredded, all so that he could view her total enslavement over and over again at his leisure long after she was nothing but a distasteful memory. 

 

And so the practice had begun.  He didn’t do his usual psychological workup on this bitch; it was a grudge thing from the beginning.  He didn’t care what made her tick, what her strengths and weaknesses were---he just wanted to humiliate and break her.  The Dutch lawyer had fought well for two days and then her will and internal strength had collapsed suddenly and unexpectedly early on the third day.  While it gave all of them some measure of satisfaction to be fucking and humiliating this gorgeous bitch as much as they’d wanted, in the end she hadn’t presented the challenge that they had expected and needed. 

 

These men lived and survived in a personal and professional sewer.  But they’d too easily broken her and dragged her down to a level of the gutter that was below even them; for being such a haughty bitch, there’d been no real challenge and she’d earned no respect for being tough.  It was then that her real punishment began, but whether for her previous attitude towards men or because of the weakness of character that she’d showed the team, none of the men could really say.

 

This woman’s subsequent training had been brutal, with her continually undergoing severe punishment accompanied by agonizing pain no matter how well she performed or how deeply she abased herself.  This woman was intelligent and beautiful, but that didn’t matter---she needed to be broken like the lowest beast and tamed like the cheapest mare. 

 

Her breasts had been full and high, her legs long and shapely; the men enjoyed every inch of her body.  She’d been branded and pierced and whipped; she’d been slapped and beaten, punched and pinched and spanked; her hair and skin had been pulled and she’d been rode by them and had ridden the wooden horse; she’d experienced long periods of machine pain and electrolove and enemas; they’d used weights to crush her arches and to pull down on her labia and nipples; pliers and clamps had been draped off of her body every day.  Every imaginable piece of equipment in Wolf’s possession that would give her the fancy'd pain that he felt she so richly deserved had been used enthusiastically and repeatedly on her slowly deteriorating body.

 

She’d never carried any extra weight; that was one of the things that had initially made her such a sexy bitch.  But by the time that she’d completed her training for the slavery that would put an end to her legal career, she’d lost weight and her face had become gaunt.  They’d fucked her brains out for two weeks and showered her with punishment long after she’d been broken.  She’d been a cunt before they’d turned her into a whore; and a slut and a cunt she remained to them afterwards.  By the end, she’d become a broken-back old mare to them---fit to be ridden, but not to be seen with.  Not a one of them felt any compassion for her when they found out that Wolf had sold her to one of the cheaper whore houses in Panama City. 

 

Basically, what goes around comes around and the bitch had deserved it.  Everyone knew that she wasn’t arrogant to men anymore---she’d been completely cowed and broken, tamed of any attitude.  Rather, she was licking their shoes---and their balls if told to.  She never again would be allowed to practice law as an equal to men; all she was good for now was to be ridden like the hag she was until her looks fled.  Then she’d be allowed to do their laundry for her meals and perhaps help her master every now and then when some young woman new to the trade needed to be broken in.  They knew that a bitch like her would be more than glad to help enslave other women if she thought it would benefit her in any way.

 

The next to have her debasement documented on video was the blonde Australian bride that had been kidnapped in South America on her wedding day.  A gorgeous young woman that thought she had her life ahead of her, she‘d fought them hard for four days before breaking.  Wolf had spread a few anonymous rumors in the city from which she’d been taken and soon it was being reported on local TV that she was unstable and that she’d run away from her wedding and her fiancé. 

 

She’d been desperately in love with her fiancé and the final straw was when Wolf arranged for her to watch a live broadcast of the disappointed and angry groom as he was interviewed on television; he was bitter and loveless now, basically having written her off as a psycho.  Wolf had let her watch the interview and after everything else that had been done to her, she’d almost lost her mind.  When she came apart, she cracked all the way, ending up at the very bottom and retaining only shreds of her sanity.  Even though psychologically she was a mess, the team had still never deviated from her training.  At Wolf’s directions, they’d forced her to wear different bridal lingerie while continually being raped and tortured; this single act alone had tormented her. 

 

At the same time, she was finally able to again approach psychological stability only because of the Wolf.  He took her once at the beginning of her indoctrination and never touched again while his team was still in the process of training her.  Instead he’d acted as a counterweight to her torment, spending a lot of private time on deck with her; it was through his talk and counseling that she was able to come back and feel that she had something for which to live again.  He’d in effect, become her new anchor in life. 

 

After he’d had her with him for that extra month she was much more stable, well trained and now thoroughly in love with him; she didn’t want to leave him.  Now that she was doing better, he was able fuck her hard until he was pretty sure she was pregnant and then he’d sold her to some acquaintances in the British East Indies.  He made sure that she was gagged and handcuffed as he prepared her for delivery, for he wasn’t in the mood for a scene.  He didn’t want kids around and he’d never had a second thought about her after that.

 

The third to have a movie made of her fate was a young real estate agent in her early 20’s that they’d noticed working late one night in Belize.  She was originally from Spain and had long brown hair and green eyes.  She was tall and on the slim side, but she had a great body.  Tiny waist, spectacular legs and ass, and nice breasts all combined to make her a knockout.

 

But she’d grown tired of what she had called post-Christian European decadence and secularism.  So she’d moved to the Caribbean to take advantage of the slower life style there.  She’d been religious and was that rarest of the rare now days, a virgin; because of her “condition” she’d presented a particular set of problems to the while being processed and trained.  But they were up to the challenge and it had only taken them a little over two days before she’d finally broken. 

 

Like their current project, she was naďve about certain aspects of life and rather immature.  Like all of the others, she was subjected to the usual physical coercion; and to this she stood up to this well.  But she was mentally unprepared for the brutal and continued anal rapes to which they’d subjected her.  In the end these were what had broken her and not the physical pain.  She’d cried all the time on the boat after that no matter what they did or didn’t do to her and they all were ready to dump her ass overboard when her new Japanese owner had finally picked her up.  Although she was the proverbial pain in the ass, Wolf always looked back with fondness at the time that he’d been able to sample that superb tight young body.

 

The fourth to have her story told on film was a young woman now from the Dominican Republic, but whose father had originally come from Germany to work for the local government.  She was a magnificent twenty-three year old brunette and they’d first noticed her when she’d competed in a contest on the beach to see who could create and wear the smallest bikini.  She’d won hands down as all she wore were very small banana shaped pieces of white cloth taped to her nipples and over her shaved pussy---her ass and everything else had been left bare. 

 

This girl had long shapely legs, long brown hair, brown eyes and a beautiful smile.  Her skin was tanned a deep nut brown by the summer sun and she was just a gorgeous girl that loved to show off her body to appreciative males.  The Wolf was deeply appreciative.  Even before he took her he knew everything about her body that he needed to know; that she shaved her pussy, that the small aureoled nipples on her unconfined breasts rode high on her chest, and that her ass was tight and firm without the need of corset or confining and body shaping under garments.

 

A hurricane gave them cover for her kidnapping.  They’d been watching her for over two weeks by the time the hurricane warnings were being given, so all they’d had to do was find a safe cove for the boat and then lurk around the capital city until the storm hit; in the chaos they were able to grab her.  The men found it almost an honor to be with her, since she’d fought them as hard as she could for over six days before she’d finally had enough.  But once she recovered from the injuries inflicted during her initial processing, she’d become a favorite of all of them.  She was immediately submissive, totally cooperative, sexually experienced and quick to learn all of the men’s favorite moves; she was a sexy bitch and a natural-born whore.  She did her best to please them right up to the very end.  They’d all felt a little down when Wolf had sold her to some Arabs living in Buenos Aires.

 

The fifth woman to have her story made into a movie was a fabulous looking long haired blonde from California that was just starting to have some luck in the movies.  They’d grabbed her away from her boyfriend while both were on vacation on Andros Island; the team had spent a luxurious three days working on her before she finally broke.  It took her a day to recover physically before they could begin training her and in the end, it turned out that she was faking her submission to them.  Once she tried to escape and they knew that she had been playing them, as promised, her time on the boat became as brutal as that of the lawyer from Amsterdam. 

 

Her perfidy had been discovered by Jorge and he was the cruelest of them all; even more so than Roberto.  While her acting ability hadn’t been good enough to pull off her role of a lifetime, it had been just good enough to ensure that she was brutally violated non-stop for the next month.  Her muffled moans and wails of anguish were music to their ears and no one had cared when Wolf had sold her to one of the worst pimps in central Mexico. 

 

This whoremaster was infamous for the way he mistreated his string of women and he always needed replacements.  Wolf had sold her cheaply, asking only that she be given to the worst of the pimps’ clients for the first year.  Only twenty three years old, it’d only been a couple of years since she’d passed through Wolf’s hands but already her looks were gone.  Her new pimp had immediately hooked her on crack; now HIV positive, she’d aged thirty years in the last eighteen months. 

 

As for Hollywood, it never missed a lesser talent like her; her absence being explained among insiders as a common occurrence for the marginally gifted as they went back home to Omaha or Bismarck or wherever else they might have originally come from.  A movie producer that she had previously met at several parties had actually seen her once while surveying a movie location, but had passed it off as a coincidental similarity.  She too had seen the producer and had hidden from him, not wanting anyone to know what she’d become.  Her family never did find out what had happened to her.

 

The sixth film detailed the breaking and training of a mother and daughter pair from Minnesota.  The mother had been thirty-two and her daughter sixteen---she’d had her child when she herself was only sixteen.  After the mother’s experience with a weak man who’d finally left her, she’d become a militant feminist.  Coming from a relatively wealthy family, she’d never had to marry and had raised her daughter by herself.  Needless to say, both females had what the Wolf called “a wrong attitude towards men”.

 

The pair had been on vacation in Grenada when the young girl was noticed by one of their talent scouts as she was tanning herself on the beach.  Definitely a “Lolita” type, the team had originally planned on taking only the teenager, but soon found the mother to be an excellent chaperone---they couldn’t get to the daughter alone.  So in the end, both women had been taken from a jeep they’d chartered while visiting the mountains on the island.  The logistics of having two females on the boat at the same time had proven to be daunting, but in the end it was decided to put the women in the cabin on alternate days in order to have video of both. 

 

The mother had short blonde hair and had worked hard to keep herself in shape.  She looked as if she were actually a slightly older sister to the teenage girl.  She had a fabulous build and while a little older than the women with which they normally trafficked, she was still an exquisitely sexy example of mature femininity.  Her daughter had shoulder length honey blonde hair and was a beautiful teenaged girl.  While not yet totally filled out, if her mother was any example, she too would be drop-dead gorgeous in a year or two. 

 

The mother had initially fought like a lioness to protect her daughter, while the teenager had appeared to be in some kind of shock.  One advantage that the two had inadvertently furnished Wolf was their strong, almost militant belief in feminism.  But his team took delight in showing the two again and again the fallacy in their passionate belief in the superiority of women---at least the physical superiority.  The other tool they gave him was their strong feelings for each other.  There was a deep mother/daughter love between the two, so it was easy to use this as leverage against them from the beginning.  If one cooperated, the other would not be hurt, and vice versa.  It worked like a charm and within forty-eight hours both females were determinedly, if not enthusiastically collaborating in their mutual doom. 

 

As usual, the training on the boat had lasted over a month and the men had lazily enjoyed every minute of it---having as the daily prize their choice of a beautiful woman in her sexual prime or that of her beautiful young daughter just about to enter her own sexual peak.  What made it even more delicious for the men was that the boat was small enough that mother and daughter each knew what was happening to the other pretty much at all times; the torment that each felt as the other was being sexually brutalized can only be imagined.  Sometimes, even often, a man would take both of them one after the other; these two females had filled the crew’s days and nights with continuous sex. 

 

The mother was a pragmatist and had quickly understood that it was her destiny to involuntarily service numerous men each day for as long as she kept her looks.  It had taken her two days longer to finally accept that the same was probably inevitable for her teenaged daughter too.  She did her best to try to protect her daughter, to make a deal in which they could do their worst to her, but would spare her daughter.  She had little to offer but her body---the men already had that---and family money.  The men knew that it would be stupid to attempt to get money from her family for her and so they refused. 

 

In the end, the only concession granted the mother on a whim---but one which they honored explicitly, enthusiastically and repeatedly---was that if any of the men felt the need to get rough, to really hurt one of the two women, only she would was to be used that way.  In return, she’d promised that she would satisfy their every sexual desire, no matter how extreme the act demanded of her as long as her daughter was exempt. 

 

The mother had been as good as her word and the men had put her through an excruciating hell of sexual torture, punishment and bondage.  She’d done everything she was told to do and had given them willing access to every part of her body that they wanted.  She sweated under them and she groaned as they did things to her body that nature hadn’t intended; numerous times each day she’d been forced to gag herself with a towel or bedding to muffle her involuntary screams of pain. 

 

She always attempted to hide from her daughter the bruises and the welts that eventually covered her body.  But there was no way to hide the limping stiffness of movement caused by the bruised and strained thigh muscles, the soles of the feet that had been beaten and the arches that had been bruised and crushed by weights, and the excruciatingly sore vagina and brutalized anus.  Mother and daughter were allowed to meet once a day and she did her best to hide from her daughter her sacrifices for her.  But the men didn’t care if the teenager knew or not, and after awhile a competition developed between the men to see who could make the mother scream the quickest, the loudest or at the most unexpected and inopportune moments. 

 

By far the worst part for the mother was psychological.  She was not forced to dress up like a whore for the men, but rather they put her in matching panty and bra sets combined with high heels as they raped and sodomized her.  But the sixteen year old WAS forced to wear the lingerie---the stockings and the garters and the five inch stiletto heels, the babydolls and the bustiers normally required of the women training; all done to please the men and further torment the mother. 

 

Overall, the team had made many promises to the two to keep them cooperative, but obviously they had no intention of carrying them out.  Inevitably, the men had promised the pair that they would be kept together when sold.  So on their day of reckoning, their last day on the boat, the now newly pregnant females were allowed to dress together and then both unwittingly and voluntarily submitted to being handcuffed with their hands behind their backs---this was nothing new and so aroused no suspicions.  Finally, they were both gagged since no one wanted to hear their begging or screaming as they were dragged off the boat to separately meet their new owners. 

 

For in the end, the mother was sold to a pimp in the Turks and Caicos Islands, while the daughter was purchased by a wealthy older Russian expat living in Montego Bay.  The mother was aborted and immediately hooked on heroin to maintain control over her.  The teenager on the other hand, was allowed to carry to full term for the Russian enjoyed having children around.  The men on the boat knew that mother and daughter would never see each other again, and that both were going to their own separate versions of hell.  But they’d made a lot of money that day and deep in their hearts, none of the men gave a damn about the two former feminists.

 

The movie now being shown finally began with amateur videos of Victoria and her friends.  Two different shots showed her sunning herself; one was taken on a public beach apparently in Cancun, while the other was a shot of her sunning on the deck of this boat.  The bikini she wore taken in the video shot on the beach looked positively Paleolithic compared to what she was shown wearing on the boat. 

 

I looked at the video of my friends and I on Cancun and found that I was trying to swallow a lump in my throat---I terribly missed my friends and couldn’t look at them on the TV without my eyes misting.  While her friends were in almost every scene, it was clear from the editing that I was to be the “main character” in the movie on slavery.

 

The movie scene quickly shifted to documenting my vacation night life.  There were enough short video clips of me in different dresses and bikinis that I knew they’d been watching me almost the whole time I’d been on the island.  I’d assumed so much, and been so careless about myself and my safety---it was far, far too late to do anything about that now.  The last shot was of me was when I was wearing my short black dress and criss-crossing strappy heels, so it must have been taken on my last night at Cancun as I was heading to Charlie’s.  I felt almost incredulous as I watched the picture of that young girl blithely walking with her friends as if she had conquered the whole world.  I had gone through so much since then that it seemed like it had occurred over a thousand years ago.

 

Then the voice-over began, and it was Bossman speaking: “This release is the seventh in a series that documents the story of women that have been supplied for non-consensual slavery to various brokers.  The following is based on standard CIA techniques and addresses the issue: How do you take an average, teenage North American female that comes from a good background, with a strong family support group, and turn her into a willing and submissive sex slave?”

 

“On this tape, we show you a bright, healthy and beautiful young girl that I’ve named ‘M’.  She is nineteen years old and is from the southern U. S.; she has been protected more than is common for one of her generation and is generally naďve about life.  She has a strong family support group and is moderately religious.  She was a sexually inexperienced and chaste girl that was for all intents and purposes a virgin.  So, how would you begin?”

 

“We,” his voice continued, “compel untrained and non-submissive females like ‘M’ (the scene on the TV goes to various shots of a free Victoria in Cancun, walking with friends to Charlie’s and then on the beach, wearing a bikini and laughing with her friends again) to act as we choose in matters of sex (the television now showed multiple shots of Victoria putting on stockings, donning and wearing at least three different sets of lingerie, zooming in to show her careful positioning of her breasts in multiple cupless brassieres.  From these it flashes to a scene of her seemingly willingly fucking Jorge.  The view is from the top of her bed and shows her on her back, raised knees welcoming Jorge between her thighs and what appears to be obvious pleasure is reflected on her face as she looks over his shoulder at the ceiling.  Next it shows two quick vignettes of her each time dressed in different clothing and performing oral sex with both Jorge and Enrique).

 

I’m in shock as I realized for the first time that the assault on my mind and body has been filmed.  One of the cameras must be at waist height on the wall across from the bed.  It showed the whole room from the dressing table on the left, to the bed in the center of the room to the cabin doorway on the right.  I realized too that there must be another camera directly over my bed.  How much has it seen that even I don’t know and how many other cameras are there?  None of the men are shown with recognizable faces, but God, my face is easily recognized in every scene.

 

“We’ve put ‘M’ in a psychological state where her mind worked FOR us and against what she absolutely knows are her best interests.”  The scene on the screen changes to that of Victoria standing by her bed and readily donning the rubber suit offered by Roberto.  It shows her difficulty in shoving her breasts through the too small holes in the chest of the suit and then allowing her arms to be bound in the suit.  It shows that her crotch and ass are left bare by the suit.  The scene then flashes to her lying flat on her back, her face is recognizable as it begins to be covered by liquid rubber, zooming in to catch her silent scream as the liquid covers her face; this particular shot ends with her apparent difficulty in breathing through the two small tubes inserted into her nostrils.  Finally, a close-up is shown of a female’s breasts and genitals as Roberto covers them with different color candle waxes; with the face covered, the audience must assume that it is Victoria since there is no way to tell for sure.  The chest of the female covered in black rubber arches as the hot wax hits her skin and she writhes in obvious pain as more hot wax is dripped on her genitals.

 

The TV screen blacks out and when it returns, it shows a naked Victoria from above as she voluntarily allows Manuel to tie her hands to the side of the bed and after her legs are spread wide apart, her feet are tied to the wall by her head.  This position directly bares her vagina and ass to the camera as it zooms in.  Quickly the scene then shifts to her still in this position as she is being whipped in the genitals.

 

“We’ve been able to do this by making her feel emotions like shame (the picture shows Manuel sliding across the bed on his back and Victoria desperately following him on her hands and knees trying to keep his cock in her mouth.  The screen flashes to a side view of her face as, apparently successful in her attempt to please him, her head is now bobbing up and down on him.  She’s performing oral sex on Manuel and the look on her face shows how much she hates what she is doing; her tears are falling onto his thighs and lower stomach.  From there the scene jumps to her repeating words and phrases said to her by Enrique and Manuel.  Here the volume comes up a little and she hears herself repeating back to the men whatever she’s told; it’s obvious from her face that she finds all of this distasteful.  The scene now changes to her looking into the camera and sobbing.  She’s got melted red and black wax on her breasts and between her legs.  The next scene shows her crying as she showers and removes the melted wax and marshmallow from her body.  Finally, the picture on the television flashes to her lying over Jorge’s knee and being spanked.  The shot is now from the other side of her bed and zooms in on her slowly and erotically grinding her pelvis in to his knee; her face shows that she appears to be enjoying this moment, but that she is also shamed that she does); worthlessness (now Victoria is looking at herself from the ceiling as Manuel brutally throat fucks her.  Victoria is again humiliated at watching her head hang off of the bed, even as the ‘she’ on the bed never relinquishes her death grip on her high heels as The Evil One mercilessly drives himself into her mouth and throat.  The sound coming from her mouth on the TV is an awful, rhythmic Ga-Glick, Ga-Glick with each thrust of his hips.  The picture zooms in now from the wall at the head of her bed and focuses on the mortification and pain in her face, her concentration on trying to breathe with a large penis being driven down her throat, her tears running towards the floor and the saliva drooling out of her mouth; and then suddenly it flashes to her in bed with Enrique.  The view is from above again and Victoria’s on her knees and bent over his waist giving him a blowjob, when he suddenly grabs her hair, pulls her off of him and slaps her.  The scene appears to represent a continuum in which she has been taught a sexual act that she’d then tried to apply incorrectly somewhere else) and a dependency upon us (the scene now shifts to Victoria being comforted on Jorge’s lap, and then on Enrique’s lap, and ends with multiple shots of her talking earnestly with Bossman on deck).

 

Oh God, I thought to myself as I watched the video, a camera behind the dresser mirror and all of my conversations with HIM on deck were recorded too.

 

The film continued….”We use physically intimidating and coercive techniques on her (the picture now switches back to a view from the top of the bed with an obviously female body encased in rubber and tied with her legs spread eagled on the bed, as Manuel dripped wax and melted marshmallow on her breasts and vagina and then cut off her air supply.  Victoria watched in horror as the “she” in the film fought a losing battle for air), and by acting as an overpowering outside force (looking from above, Victoria for the first time sees herself being branded and her nipples pierced without anesthetic; she is gagged but even with her mouth full of the hard black rubber, she is giving out screams of pain that that are obviously loud enough to carry for some distance.  Then the scene shifts so that she sees a montage of every man on the boat slapping her.  Finally, it flashes to her bound body being dragged by her hair to the bathroom shower stall by Bossman where she is tied into a tight bow in which her back is painfully arched and then she is left for the night.  The picture goes to black and then reverses to white and everyone sees her still in the same position in the stall, but now it is morning; she’s covered in her own filth in which she laid all night.  This fades to black and then to white again where we now see a ceiling shot of Victoria laying at the foot of her bed with her knees spread and in the air; she is gagged and her hands are tied behind her back, while her feet are tied about three feet apart to a steel bar.  There is some activity by two men at the foot of the bed, and then it becomes clear that there is a machine-powered penis being set up.  It is started and begins driving into her vagina.  Within moments Victoria sees in the movie her body being driven towards the head of the bed by the piston entering her vagina and then as the piston retreats, the taut bindings at her ankles pull her body back toward the foot of the bed just in time to again receive the forward thrust of the mechanical penis), we break these women’s will to resist us (the scene shifts to her being lowered onto the wooden horse, her ankles hog-tied to the back of her thighs, her arms bound tightly behind her back and her head covered by the tight leather discipline helmet.  The picture zooms in on her smoothly muscled thighs straining as she unsuccessfully attempts to save herself by gripping the thin horizontal wood of the horse with the insides of her sweaty thighs.  The views of her on the wooden horse change quickly as they show Victoria from different camera angles, but all of them concentrate on the moment that her vagina finally touches the horse and her reaction when her full body weight finally and fully pinches her clitoris between her pelvis and the wood of the horse.  The audience watches as Victoria’s covered head is thrown back in obvious torment as she slowly rocks back and forth on the thin edge of the polished wood between her legs and upon which all of her weight now rests, proving to all watching that she is incapable of protecting her own femininity.  Next, it flashes to show a picture within picture, basically two movies are up on the screen at the same time.  One is a shot from the ceiling camera which shows a gagged Victoria with her hands tied in back of her and her wrists pulled up tightly and suspended from a rope to the ceiling.  The other is a perfectly synchronized view of the same event taken from the side.  Even though wearing high heels, this view emphasizes the heavy iron bar bound to the arches of her feet and she’s bent over in agony.  The scene shifts to the side and a little to the back as it shows Manuel step up to her as she’s bent over, spread the cheeks of her ass with both hands and with one smooth move of his hips, bury his long, black glistening erection up to his nutsack into the rear of the teenaged girl.  Even bound and gagged, the girl is obviously suffering excruciating pain from this and attempts to rear up in protest, but is prevented from doing so by the way her bound arms are tied to the ceiling.  Finally, the scene ends with Victoria begging them to stop, telling them that she will do anything, everything they want if they will just stop hurting her.  It is clear that they have won and that she has submitted to them).

 

Silent tears are running down my face at this point as I watch this horrendous movie.  I wish that I could stop crying because I don’t want to give any of them that satisfaction, but I just can’t help myself.  I keep missing details of what Bossman is saying as each horrendous scene is followed by one that is even worse.

 

“By taking away M’s ability to rely on herself, by stripping her of her external rituals (the scene shifts to show her daily exercise routine.  The camera zooms in and pans her body showing the scant exercise outfit she wears and her butt plug) and social supports and forcing her to look inwards for strength (the scene shifts to one taken from the head of her bed showing Victoria watching her family on television), by letting her see things like her family on TV, but knowing that they can’t help her, we force her to go back to an earlier, more vulnerable level of behavior (the television screen now shows Victoria crying herself to sleep at night, then shifts to a scene of her rocking back and forth in the bathroom with her arms folded across her chest after being forced to have oral sex with Manuel on the first day of training.  It is obvious that she is in acute psychological distress).  We can then take advantage of this emotionally weakened state and get these women to voluntarily do whatever we want, (the scene now coming on is taken from the ceiling and shows her allowing herself to be tied up by Manuel.  After being gagged, her wrists are tied to the sides of the bed while her body is bent almost in half and her feet are tied to the bedposts at the head of the bed.  This opens up her defenseless genitals to the view of the camera and it zooms in on them for a second.  The scene then shifts first to her being fucked by Manuel; her eyes are closed and her face looks like that of a zombie---it is obvious that she’s just trying to get through this.  The camera now seems to zoom in again on Victoria’s crotch and suddenly one can see her anus opening and closing.  To Victoria’s final and complete mortification, there is muffled laughter in the cabin of the boat as this is shown.  Suddenly, the scene cuts to Victoria still tied in the same position, but now she’s being whipped by Manuel in the genitals again and again until she abruptly begins to urinate all over her self.  The scene goes dark and when it again becomes light again it first shows her naked and sitting against the wall, then it shows Enrique begin to tie her up.  First it shows her putting her gag in her mouth without obvious coercion, and then it shows her hands tied to the wall.  From here it quickly shows her hips being tied down and then her feet tied up by the toes to the wall near her hands.  Even the men wince and groan in sympathy at the awful position she’s been put in.  When the pliers and clamps are brought out and applied, all of the men laugh and groan in mock sympathy at the same time at Victoria’s predicament.) even though, as you can see, it clearly is against their own self interest.”

 

“Think of the ‘essential you’,” Bossman’s voice continued, “as a monolithic structure.  By carefully intermixing people with her that she perceives as caring (Victoria is shown sitting on Jorge’s lap being comforted, then on Enrique’s lap, again being comforted.  Finally, it cuts to her earnestly talking with Bossman up on deck), which are then forcefully counter balanced by those that are perceived as uncaring (short vignettes of both Roberto and Manuel as they hit her), by discrediting her learned beliefs and inherent personality traits (the television picture quickly shifts from one scene to the next, each one first showing her undressing or dressing in front of the men, then of her being naked in front of one of the men and then of ‘M’ each time wearing a different set of lingerie.  It is clear that she is being desensitizing to being naked in front of men, to wearing lingerie for them and to performing demeaning tasks for them.  Next, the scene shifts to her being forced to repeat previously unthinkable language in various sexual contexts which would have been unimaginable for her just three weeks ago.  Finally, it flashes to Victoria and Bossman talking on deck.  He’s subtly attacking her belief in family and the loyalty she feels towards her parents), by fracturing that internal structure, we can affect everything from her personality to her normal bodily needs and functions.”

 

“We’re able to strip away the personality traits she’s learned from her parents (the television again shows her being made to repeat vulgar and sexually explicit words and phrases.  As the scenes progress, it becomes obvious that she is becoming more familiar with these words and that it is becoming easier for her to use them.  Finally, it shows her spontaneously using this language in a couple of different situations.  The TV screen next shows her being forced to stand naked in front of various men and that gradually it appears that this too becomes easier or at least less damaging to her to do so.  This scene closes with ‘M’ being comfortable with the extensive modeling of very racy lingerie for Jorge), take away her ability to deal with complex social situations (the scene now snaps to one of her wearing exquisite bridal lingerie when she goes to serve the men in the galley, but suddenly it cuts to her cramping midway as she goes to sit down at the dining table due to the increased size of her new butt plug.  Her discomfort and embarrassment is obvious to all watching.  From here it shows quick shots of her attempting to relate to the men.  These efforts had quickly ended on her part, but that is not the perception left by the film), remove her ability to cope with stressful personal relationships (the camera is now from across the room and it shows Victoria’s obvious fear of Roberto and his rubber suit but she dons it anyway, then it cuts away to show her inappropriately non-submissive reaction after being let out of the rubber suit.  Her blazing green eyes coming toward the camera as she is stopped and slapped by Bossman are a striking visual.  Finally, the camera shows Victoria first anal rape by Enrique.  It starts out with a view from the side as he sheathes himself in her, but then goes to an aerial view which better shows her agonized facial expressions as he begins to finally slam himself into her ass.  In the end, her face mirrors pain, horror, humiliation and rage as she is anally raped.  Eventually, she is shown voluntarily putting bedding in her mouth to muffle her screams) and with repeated frustrations (the scene shows Victoria talking earnestly to Jorge about wanting to be left alone to do just what she wants to do.  This is juxtaposed with various shots of her being forced to give blowjobs to most of the men.  This part ends with various cuts of Victoria removing her butt plug in the bathroom; the last scene is that of her unsuccessfully trying to remove the latest butt plug by herself.  The way it is edited indicates that a lot of time has passed as she tries and fails to remove it on her own.  She is obviously frustrated at having to ask another for help with this). 

 

I blushed as I remembered how grateful I’d been to Jorge for letting me go into the bathroom to take out the hard rubber plugs in privacy.  God, I felt so stupid.

 

“Her rapid transition to the “modern sexuality” that we have defined for her and which we demand from her (the television shows a shot from the foot of the bed in which Jorge has her left leg raised and pointed to the ceiling.  He’s removed her sandal from that foot and he is kissing and licking the inside of her knee and thigh; it is obvious that she likes this as video shows Victoria clenching her fists and then a shudder of pleasure appears to run through her body.  The picture then cuts to a side view of Victoria fucking Jorge; she obviously has accepted him willingly and is vigorously meeting each thrust of his hips with a counter move of her own that ensures maximum penetration by him.  This scene reaches a climax as Victoria is overcome by an orgasm---her hips and belly are arched up against Jorge to the point that her ass no longer is on the mattress.  Her hands are shown digging into his shoulders.  Jorge’s hands are shown reaching down and each grabs a cheek of her ass to both ensure he maintains the maximum penetration of her vagina and to balance himself on her upthrust groin, the video shows her holding that position for an incredible length of time before she finally collapses under his weight.  The scene then goes to a ceiling view in which Victoria’s nylon clad legs are wrapped around his lower body and her neck is straining as she rises to meet his thrusts into her belly.  The scene starts to repeat, but now is shown from the foot of the bed.  Again Victoria is shown with Jorge, except now she’s wearing different lingerie.  It is clear that for both times Victoria had been with him after she’d capitulated; she was enthusiastic in her ‘voluntary’ lovemaking with him.  The scene snaps to a ceiling view of Victoria and Jorge lying in bed together.  She’s laying on her back and he on his side to her left but lying between her legs.  Her right leg is draped over his hip and she is fondling his penis and balls in an apparent attempt to make him erect again.  It’s clear that they’ve just finished having sex because the picture is clear enough to see his semen drying on the insides of her upper thighs, on her labia and on her lower belly.  The scene shifts to Victoria now riding Jorge’s groin, impaling herself with every move of her hips.  Again, it is obvious that she is doing this willingly.  She is facing the camera, but her eyes are closed.  She licks her lips to wet them and continues riding him.  Finally, in a scene shot from the head of the bed, Victoria is again shown on her knees giving a blowjob to Manuel.  This time she’s wearing a skirt and blouse combination) is then complete; we’ve changed her sexually, but her underlying psychology remains the same.  On her journey from virtual virginity to trained sexual dependency, we expect moments of almost wondering disgust at herself (a scene shot from across the bed shows Victoria’s face as she submits to oral sex with Manuel.  Her face shows how she loathes what she’s being forced to do to him; as one continues to watch, it seems that she has reserved much of the disgust shown on her face for herself, for willingly performing like this for him.  This shot then goes to another scene in which Victoria is being forced to repeat Manuel’s demeaning comments to her) and at us (the scene on the TV is again taken from the ceiling and shows Victoria being brutally throat fucked by Manuel.  It shows him threatening her and then running his hand over the bulge in her neck as his erection is completely buried in her mouth and throat---and it shows her body being driven across the bed with each slam of his hips to her face.  Then it zooms in on her hands desperately clasping and unclasping from her high heels, all the while in the background all one hears is wet Ga-Glick, Ga-Glick, Ga-Glick.  The scene ends with Victoria sitting and rocking in the bathroom, then vomiting into the toilet and finally screaming and throwing her high heels out of the bathroom.  From this, it next shows her rage at Enrique after the first day of training and his lesson in anal rape.  She is shown threatening to “get even” or kill him for what he’s done to her); these events are markers on her journey of transformation into becoming what we want and are to be expected.  In the end, these women always turn to anger in search of an outlet.  While the unreleased anger of these women has been known in some to turn some simply from being mad and continuing on into madness, clearly ‘M’ has satisfactorily internalized our needs and demands (the TV shows Victoria wearing black lingerie, stockings and heels, lying on her back on the side of the bed.  With a small smile on her face, she slowly raises her legs until her feet are pointing at the camera eye in the ceiling and then she spreads her legs slowly apart, as wide as she can, obviously granting Bossman full permission to explore her vagina.  After two or three minutes of him exploring her legs with his hands and her vagina with his mouth and tongue, the scene finally shifts to Victoria being heroically ridden by Bossman until all she can do is scream both for mercy and for him to never stop.  The scene is reminiscent of the most graphic of pornographic movies and the details captured in this scene seem to depict Victoria as what she truly is; a natural-born whore).

 

What I do to these women robs them of their most basic ability to relate to reality and, thus, is the psychological equivalence of their death.  I shatter these women’s sense of self (the scene now shown is where Bossman renames Victoria ‘M’ and gives her the slave collar she is to wear for the rest of her life?  The corollary to this is that he is also forever taking away the name given her by her family).  By isolating them and taking away their anchors (the movie scene now shifts to one taken by a camera located behind the dresser mirror and shows her putting on several different sets of wedding lingerie, in an attempt to attack or take away the value of that custom.  This scene is then juxtaposed with one is which Victoria is talking to Bossman about her belief that she would wear white and be married in a church.  Finally, it shows Victoria being quizzed by Bossman as he subtly attacks and demeans her value systems), by questioning and attacking their most precious beliefs (several vignettes on deck with Bossman are shown in which he talks about her lack of uniqueness, her inability to fit in with her generations’ views of sexuality and sexual freedom, about how poorly her parents training in ‘life’ skills had served her, about her aunt’s selfishness, and about good and evil.  He ends by subtly attacking the overall ‘her’ that has resulted of all of the above), they have nothing familiar left to hold on to: family, home, personal belongings, loved ones, language, nor name.  Nothing’s left---they lose it all, along with their sense of freedom.  Then they are mine.  I now build them back up and bring them into MY reality, the one that I have defined AND designed for them.

 

Here his voice seems to smile broadly, ”Here’s a translation for you---by putting her in positions where she thinks that acts like sleep, nourishment and excretion are degrading, animalistic and dehumanizing (the scene starts with her on her hands and knees eating nasty looking food out of a bowl and then goes to multiple shots of her dressing up in sexy clothes just to serve the men dinner, and of them mocking her and laughing at her problems with the new butt plug.  It ends with her shown being dragged out of the shower stall, covered in her own excrement.  She has spent the whole night laying in it and is both humiliated and degraded by having been forced to do this), we can change the most basic parts of her personality.  If I’m given enough time, I can make any woman WANT to do anything I desire her to do. 

 

“So, that’s how we took a young girl like ‘M’ (back to original scene of her dressed up in Cancun walking with friends), and by using various motivations (the scene shifts to a side view showing alligator clips being tightly clamped onto her nipples and the electric leads being attached to various parts of her body.  Then both Jorge and Enrique are seen inserting the electrified dildo into her vagina and asshole.  When these items are turned on, the television picture documents Victoria’s wild gyrations on the bed mattress as she responded to various parts of her body being electrically stimulated.  The scene fades to black and then comes back showing her being slammed viciously by the fuck machine again, and the shot zooms to her face which is contorted with screams muffled by the gag in her mouth---her eyes bulge, looking like they will pop out of her head with the awful sensations.  Finally, the scene fades to black again and when it comes back this time, the view is from the ceiling and it shows the men roughly inserting the first butt plug into her anus.  Then it shifts and shows Enrique roughly inserting an even larger plug inside her ass.  The camera zooms in and documents in detail how her anus hopelessly fights against this last invasion.  This scene ends with her bound and helpless body being lowered onto the wooden horse.  Her body language here makes it abundantly clear that she is in agony) and taking her through various scenarios in which we make her do things that seem to have no reason to her (the scene now shows Victoria wearing only a garter belt, butt plug, stockings and heels.  The camera view is at about waist height and she walks up to the camera eye and turns her back to it.  She then spreads her legs and bends over to grasp one of her ankles, shooting a perfect beaver into the camera.  Her shaved vagina is emphasized from the back by her labia and the butt plug appears to wink at the camera.  [Even sitting there watching the film, Victoria winces and wonders how it stayed inside her when she was bent over in that position as she faced away from the mirror over the dresser.  Victoria had had no idea why the men had demanded that she do this each time she was wearing stockings for them, but now the reason was clear---more humiliation for her in the end.  Face burning, she watches as her hands finally come slowly back into view as they auto-erotically slide up her leg, and she then re-does her garters one at a time.]  Then on the TV Victoria bends down and does the same thing again with her other leg.  Again her hand slides up her nylon clad leg, slowly, sexily, erotically.  This sexually titillating scene is repeated over after over after over, but each time with different lingerie.  The overall implications of this scene when taken into context with all that has been shown previously are that she has been successfully broken and trained, and willingly performing as a whore that has been satisfying these men for a long, long time), we end up with this (the final scenes in the movie begins with Victoria willingly and enthusiastically fucking Bossman.  It looks down at Bossman’s broad shoulders and back as he covers the teenage girl beneath him.  Victoria’s hands are digging into his back, which is already scratched by her nails.  All the while Vicki’s nylon clad legs are writhing around him in pleasure; the view lasts long enough to show her lovely legs sometimes coming up and wrapping around his waist while other times they are just intertwined with his on the bed.  Her face is shown looking at the camera over his left shoulder; her eyes are closed but her mouth is open and she appears to be all alone in her world of pleasure and even speaking to herself.  It is hard to really see her face however, as Bossman is making bull-like thrusts into her body, each one violently slamming her up and out of focus of the camera.  The scene shifts suddenly and Bossman is replaced by Jorge, still riding Victoria much to her obvious pleasure.  At this point, the scene again shifts to a full frontal still shot of Victoria as she stands naked except for her nipple chain and the high heels which emphasize her calf muscles.  Her hair is brushed and she has her makeup on.  Both of her nipples are erect and her labia look pouty and swollen, red and tender.  Her head is slightly tilted and there is an inquisitive look on her face; she looks stunning.  This wonderfully erotic shot is held for the final commentary.)  Finally, our system is rigorous and the results are robust.  Seven of these films have now been made and each subject has eventually been made aware of the video in which they have ‘starred’.  For you see, that’s the beauty of our training---it doesn’t matter what they know or don’t know about what we have done to them.  When we are finished with them, they are ours permanently.  For them, there is no going back and in the end, they know this. (The final scene then does a slow fade to black.)

As ordered, I still sit in the chair---I feel stunned and had never attempted to move from it; God, my training on the boat is already taking precedence over the independence of my former life.  My eyes are on my feet, my arms are wrapped tightly across my chest and I can’t breathe.  I don’t know what to think, I’m not able to think.  They have made a documentary of the most awful, the most pivotal moments of my life.  They have tortured and degraded me on the boat and the film is just a documentary continuation of their psychological brutality.  I have been debased and my shame is now forever available for the whole world to purchase and see.  The thoughts begin to spin faster and faster in my mind.  Then, the TV screen comes to life again.

Manuel looked at Victoria for a moment and grinned his evil grin.  “Notice that this tape has been ‘zeroed out’, no one can see our faces and the background gives nothing away as to what or where or even when this was filmed.  You stupid woman, we’ve also been working on another short surprise for you too.  Watch this…”

 

The second tape begins and immediately I knew that it was meant for my family---more specifically, for my father.  It is short, not more than twelve to fifteen minutes, but it is devastating.  It shows me fucking or being fucked by all five of the black men on the boat, performing oral sex on them or having it carried out on me.  The video specifically shows the face of every man as he takes me.  It shows me lying on my back willingly spreading my legs for the men, and sitting on top of the men fucking them on my own.  It shows again and again the huge erections as they disappear inside me both from the front and the rear.  The camera zooms in on my face and shows my ecstasy as I am taken by Bossman and then by Jorge.  The film culminates with my orgasms; my sexual release each time is obvious to anyone viewing the film.  It shows me being fucked in the rear by all of the men, and immediately afterwards the scene snaps to me taking Jorge’s moist genitals in my hands after we’ve just finished having sex and apparently fondling him in order to make him hard again.  In all cases, the camera angle always shows me, but not the fact that there are men giving me instructions as to my next act with them. 

 

Over the film my voice has been dubbed; what I am saying is carefully edited to fit with exactly what is being shown on the screen.  My voice goes on and on and on: “I like sex; I love being tied up and beaten; I like being hurt; I like being punished; I love to be fucked; I need a cock filling my pussy; Oh God, somebody fuck me, please; I especially love being tied up and beaten and then fucked afterwards; I’m a slut and a cunt and a whore and I want to do what I want to do; I’m a cocksucker; I love to suck cocks; I was born to suck cocks; I’ll even suck somebody else’s cock while you watch; I’ll spread for anyone; I love to suck white cocks; I love to suck black cocks; There’s no cock that I wouldn’t like to suck on; I’m a whore for cocks, especially black cocks; I like making love to black men; I want you to shove your hard black cock deep in my nasty ass; I want black cocks rammed up my ass; I want them to rape my ass; I want you to please slide your greasy cock up my ass, and fill my asshole with your cum; I love being fucked; please fuck me.”

 

The film shows a quick series of shots showing me dressing for the men in sexy lingerie or short skirt and sheer blouse combinations.  It shows multiple shots of me bending over and tightening my stockings, in each shot I’m wearing different lingerie.  Never is there any type of coercion shown towards me, either explicit or implicit.  The worst shot for me is that taken from the ceiling showing me with Manuel as he brutally throat fucked me.  My saliva covered face is clearly visible in the video as he drives into my gaping mouth.  The makeup running from my tearing eyes makes me look like the cheapest whore.  Not only my consent, but my active and willing participation is implied as I lay there accepting him into my mouth and throat, saliva pooling in my mouth and running down the side of my face as all the while I voluntarily keep my hands down by my feet.  Again, there is no obvious coercion here.

 

It shows me voluntarily allowing the men to put me in tortuous positions and to do awful things to my body.  Always, the video makes it seem as if this is something that I love to do, not something that I am forced to do.

 

Finally it ends with a montage of shots showing each man cumming over and over again either in me or on me.  The look of ecstasy on their faces as they strain to get just a fraction of an inch deeper inside me before they would cum; the way they would pull out and cum all over my face and body---everything is caught on film.  The final scene shows me lying on my bed covered with the semen of three men having cum on me multiple times.  It steadies on the look on my face.  It’s a look that could mean anything to anyone.  As the video ends, my dubbed voice repeats over and over, “I think I’m pregnant, I think I’m pregnant, I think I’m pregnant………”

 

I shook my head NO! as I listened in increasing horror to my voice saying things I had never said.  But wait!  I actually did remember saying that one particular phrase.  And then another, and another.  Finally the reality truly dawned upon me.  From watching the first movie, I’d known that they’d been copying the audio the whole time.  But I had never thought about my being forced to parrot things back to The Animal and The Evil One.  Manuel had obviously put my repetition to the visuals that they had been making the whole time.  Oh God.  Oh my God!  I recognized another comment as something that I had said, but on the video it was all wrong.  The way it was presented gave it exactly the opposite meaning of what I had actually said.

 

The film continued and I recognized more and more of my comments either taken out of context or put in as dialogue that was just totally misleading.  Especially when viewed with what I was shown doing on the screen.  As the drama continued to play out on the small screen, I remembered more and more of what I had said.  But on the TV, in the way it was shown, it was all so MISLEADING.  IT WAS ALL SO WRONG.  They had created a complete fabrication about me, about what I was like, but it looked and sounded so real.  If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed it myself. 

 

Finally, mercifully, the tape ended.  Tears now ran freely down my face as I sat time stunned, as if hit between the eyes with a hammer.  Oh God, I was lost!  All was lost!  My family would never believe me now, not after they’d seen this video of me with all of these men.

 

Manuel looked at her and laughed.  “Just think, bitch.  If you ever decide to play games with us, EVER, all we’ve got to do is send a few copies of this to, oh, let me see; your parents, your aunt, all of your friends in your home town and at college, the local newspaper, your church---did I leave anyone out?  You gonna’ tell them you were kidnapped and raped?  You gonna’ ask them, ‘who are you going to believe?  Me?  Or your lying eyes?’  You’re fucked, bitch.  So behave like the nice little piece of ass that you know you are.  OK?”

 

I had begun noticing a little while ago that it had seemed that I was increasingly less able to think clearly about what was being done to me on the boat.  Although my mind seemed more and more ‘fuzzy’ to me all of the time, almost like it was packed in cotton, I’d still been wrestling with my capture by these men and my responses to their threats and their training.  I was now, finally, aware that one of the greatest questions a person can face in life is how to determine to what extent they are going to accept their environment and to what extent they are going to fight it.  While I had fought them in numerous small ways, I’d also put off the final resolution of how I would react to my impending slavery because I had thought that I’d still had more time----time to fool the men, and time to still come up with a way to get off the boat AND still save my family at the same time. 

 

But once again, I’d underestimated what they would do to keep me theirs and overestimated what I could do against their attacks.  The problem now, I realized at last, was that events had finally passed me by; that by creating this last film, my struggle against them had been resolved in their favor without the battle that I’d envisaged.  The anger within me was absent, the venom and the fire was now gone.

 

Without a word, I got up and walked over to The Bed in a daze.  I was wearing a short brown wrap-around skirt with a narrow leather belt and a white silk blouse with a plunging neckline.  I had on cinnamon skin-tone stockings which were held up by sheer white lace garters and I was wearing black, strappy sandals with five inch stiletto heels.  I wore no jewelry except for my nipple chain which was visible swinging between the natural cleavage exposed by the daring blouse.

 

Upon reaching The Bed, I lay down upon it on my back without looking at any of the men.  It was obvious that I was waiting for them to begin their normal assaults on my body one by one, and for them to leave their disgusting gifts between my thighs.  I lay on The Bed looking at the ceiling which had so betrayed me in the end.  The others finally left and it was The Evil One that started getting ready.  “I see you’re behaving like a good little girl now,” he said.  “Today, it’s time for a nice, slow ride.”

 

He was on The Bed now.  This was normally a difficult moment; usually at this point my entire body would be tensed to fight and to resist him, but I would somehow always hold myself motionless.  But this time, there was nothing left inside me.  There was no reason to force my body to remain still this time.  I was empty, numb, a vacuum that nothing could fill.  There was nothing more that he could do to me that would hurt me more, affect me more, than what he had just done to me with the TV.

 

I just lay there for him, without looking at him.  Up came my skirt as his rough calloused palms touched my thighs and then bunched it over my belly.  Quickly, without speaking and without looking at him, I raised my knees and spread my thighs.  I wanted no games at this moment.  I wanted to get the inevitable over with fast.  But I could see that he had mistaken my gesture as a willingness on my part to participate. 

 

He was between my thighs now as he laid down upon me.  “You’re a fast learner, baby.  I knew you would be.  Now that you know what sides your bread’s buttered on, you’ll be lots happier.”  He rubbed his rough hands around my thighs and under the cheeks of my buttocks.  “Okay, now just lie back, baby, and enjoy it.”

 

I winced, but tried to remain stoical.

 

By now, his mounting me had revived memories of all of the other one-way copulations with him and the others; the recollections made me shiver and I tried to erase from my mind what now followed.  The ride by him was an endless one, and as before, he pounded me like a jackhammer.  Twice he had been on the verge of cumming and he had slowed down to contain himself before continuing.  Each time, I’d been slightly tempted to start really rocking my hips and my belly, to stimulate him into coming faster and thus to get rid of him; yet I had simply been unable to bring myself to make any movements which would have been misinterpreted by the stud as his having success in exciting me.

 

An eternity it had lasted and finally, when we were both slippery with his sweat, he exploded inside me and the ordeal was over.  He was pleased; while leaving The Bed, he wanted to know how I had liked it.

 

I shrugged and looked away.

 

He reached down and grabbed his underwear, shirt and pants.  Everything went on the bed, but his underwear which he began to put on.  His black penis hung down, soft now.  It glistened in the light, wet with fluids from inside Victoria’s vagina.  “I know, I know, you just can’t bring yourself to admit that you loved it.”  He looked at the clock on the wall as he buckled his belt.  “Yeah, thirty-one minutes of it.  Well, let’s call that one a quickie.”  And with that, he left.

 

The men were correct, nothing had changed and they visited me as usual.  The day dragged on forever, but finally I was alone in my bed that night.  I lay there in the dark, thinking about what had happened today and what I knew that it meant for me.  Again, I cried myself to sleep over those missing parts of me that had been taken and destroyed by these men.

 

Still later that night, Jorge watched both films again and again.  Enrique and Manuel had been the ones to edit the films and he hadn’t seen much of the original video.  He then went back and looked at some of the original footage to confirm his suspicions.  He would be ready for her tomorrow morning.

 

Day Twenty-Seven: Jorge Makes A Discovery

 

Bossman had left over sixteen days ago and it was morning of my twenty-seventh day on the boat; I was waiting for the first of the men to show.  I’d been through everything now and they thought that I was fast approaching being suitably trained for my new owner.  While still inexperienced, I’d been told that my physical qualities, my ability to perform, ensured that I would be enthusiastically welcomed.

 

Only Jorge was perceptive enough to have any real questions about what I had been trying to hide over the last month; but that really didn’t matter anymore for the last movie had finally been able to accomplish what their long grinding days of sexual brutality and physical torture had not.  They’d won; in a moment of blinding truth and self-realization, I was finally able to admit to myself that they’d clearly and finally beaten me---I had nothing left to fight for, nothing left to go home to even if I’d somehow been able to hold out against them.  I had no desire to fight them now, the need having slowly fled me over the last few days. 

 

There had been five men during my first five days on this boat of the damned, but only four had actually been involved in physically hurting me.  After The Demon had been kicked off the boat, only Jorge, The Animal, The Evil One and Bossman were left onboard.  But even he’d left after the tenth day and that had left only the three of them to finish ‘putting the polish on’ after that.  I would have sworn in the beginning that more were needed to beat me, but in the end, it seemed that three had been enough and that they had succeeded.  Oddly, that the Bossman had clearly been the architect of my destruction didn’t seem to bother me as much as what the other men continued to do to me on a daily basis.

 

My cabin was clean and I had already worked out and showered.  I had my hair up now and was wearing a lacy white open faced bra and G-string.  There was the briefest shelf upon which my breasts could rest and the bra “cups” had horizontal strips of lace both above and below my nipples, and my nipple chain was now connected to them outside the cups.  I actually had panties for this outfit and I’d put them on over a strappy white garter belt whose lacy fabric rode low over my hips.  I’d put the G-string on over the garters since I knew that I would shortly be losing the underwear, but the men would still want me wearing everything else.  I was also wearing rather dark flesh toned stockings and strappy white sandals with a four inch stiletto heel. 

 

I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the first of my Masters to enter.  Any remaining spirit that I might have had was crushed yesterday, but my mind was still sizzling with what I had been shown.  I knew that I was now able to handle the never-ending sex that these men demanded of me, and that I had even figured out how to shut down and just endure the punishments and pain that they inflicted upon me.  But the two films yesterday had destroyed any equilibrium that I might have developed---and I felt that worst of all, they had taken away my family.  Both videos were so untrue, so….so…..UNFAIR!!! 

 

But concepts like fairness no longer had meaning in my life.  Bossman had told me that earlier and he had been right.  Somehow, last night I finally understood that I had truly accepted what I was to become; and this realization brought almost a sense of relief, a feeling of calmness brought on by the end to the struggle that I’d been fighting for four weeks now.

 

Physically, even though I was worn out, I still looked great.  For some reason, I hadn’t lost weight and even though I still ached now and then, the daily workouts had me in the best shape of my life.  I had finally become more comfortable wearing the giant two inch wide butt plug and realized that I could sit a little more easily than before, and now I often found that I didn’t even feel it inside me as I sat deep in thought. 

 

Finally, Jorge walked through the door into my cabin and interrupted my thoughts; he carried a large curved vibrator and set it down on the side of the bed. 

 

“Do you still have that thing inside you?” he asked.  When I gave a short nod, he said, “Go in and remove it.”  I moved quickly to the bathroom and returned in a minute.  He looked at me speculatively.  “Tomorrow evening,” he said, “you leave us to meet your new Master.” 

 

I had leapt to my feet upon his entrance; his telling me to remove the plug was a wonderful gift.  Upon my return, he motioned me to sit on the edge of the bed again. 

 

I felt a series of conflicting emotions inside me.  The news that I would finally be getting off this floating hell was good---I almost looked forward to being owned by someone new, someone that didn’t know the details of what had been done to prepare me for him.  This craft represented a truly horrendous experience, all of which had culminated in the films shown yesterday.  At the same time, there was routine here on the boat, a predictability that somehow had its grotesque attractiveness to me.  I knew that there was a part of me that would miss this and too, fear of the unknown weighed heavily upon me.

 

I’d thought a lot about the films last night.  I knew that I could’ve handled the physical punishment for at least awhile longer.  But the films had taken away any reasons for me to continue my struggles.  I’d always been strongest when there was something to struggle for rather than something to fight against.  But I’d sensed over the last week that with each passing day there was less and less desire remaining inside me to oppose these men.  That as I cooperated more and more with each act of rape and suffered each separate pain and humiliation, the fire inside me had burned lower and lower.  And these films had quenched the remaining embers, there was nothing left to struggle for---now I knew that I could never go home again because of the pain that those films would cause my family.

 

That pain wouldn’t soon go away, but I’d found some relief that I had finally faced my demons…….even if they’d won.

 

Jorge knew that his relationship with the blonde teenager had gone through perhaps three distinct phases.  The first was that of outright brutal and sadistic kidnapper to victim and it had lasted for at least three or four days.  From there they had entered a relationship in which she had almost begun to trust him.  Certainly, she had trusted him more than any of her other captors.  It had almost been one of pupil and mentor.  This had lasted almost two weeks and had continued to get stronger over time; he’d regretted that they’d been forced to move on from this stage because of that madman Manuel. 

 

This last shift in their relative positions had been precipitated by Manuel’s beating of her until she’d soiled herself.  From a position of almost trust, their dealings had degenerated back into one of Master and pawn/slave as he’d been forced to support that maniac.  During this last time, he knew that she trusted him perhaps least of all because she’d previously felt closer to him than to the others---her sense of betrayal by him over the results of Manuel’s whipping had struck her more deeply than had that from the others. 

 

But as the time had passed from that event, he had sensed that her defenses had become weaker and weaker, crumbling over the last few days as if the cumulative weight of all that had been done to her had finally worn her down.  But here, now, he was back again at the remnants of the walls she had erected in her mind, searching for that which she had kept concealed. 

 

“You’re still upset with the films?” he asked.

 

I refused to look at him nor would I call him my Master, but as I spoke there was no mistaking the tone of absolute defeat in my voice.  “What do you care?  You’ve won---you have what you want now.  You always win in the end, don’t you?  But if you really want to know, I think that they were awful.  I think that they perfectly show the horrible things you’ve done to me and God only knows to how many other women.  I think…….someday, they’ll be used to send you and the others to prison for the rest of your lives.”

 

Jorge decided to ignore her familiarity, her moment of insubordination and pique, instead concentrating on putting his thoughts about her into words; he found it surprisingly difficult.  “You act like a child when you talk like that.”

 

He continued after a moment, “When a woman is brought upon this boat, she is rightfully full of fear.  Even worse, the uncertainty of her fate tends to further exaggerate her anxiety.  But this same situation also grants the brave woman a margin of doubt which often allows her to dismiss all of the alarms that might be inconvenient to her.  These are the women that think that they will be saved and, in the end, nothing will actually happen to them.”

 

“You have been brave, but you are not foolish.  Yours is the seventh of these films that we’ve made,” Jorge continued as his voice grew harsher, “and no one of the law has ever even begun to be interested in tracking them.  For all anyone knows or cares, they’re just the pornographic fantasy.  For God’s sake, you’re just one person.  Do you really expect everyone to drop everything and rush out to save you?  Life doesn’t work like that---at least not here.”

 

“You’re a brave and beautiful woman, but you’re ours now.  You know now in your heart that nothing will save you from that.  But think about what you’ve gone through, what you’ve learned about yourself.”

 

“What I’ve learned,” I flashed back at him, “is that a little over a month ago I was getting ready to enter college.  Four weeks later, I’ve been kidnapped, lost count of the number of times I’ve been raped and sodomized, tortured and beaten.  I’ve been branded and sexually enslaved and told that I will be sold to a man that I’ve never met and that I will never see my family or friends again.  And finally, to top it all off,” and now I raised my eyes so that I looked directly into Jorge’s eyes, “I find that I’m pregnant by one of you monsters.”

 

There was silence from him for a minute, and then; “M, you react to this news like a naďve child.  How on earth do you think that we can ever truly control a woman like you?  Drugs, money, position, power; none of these would matter to you in your attempt to get back to your family.  But if you have a child that’s in our care, ahhh, now that’s a different proposition.  Once your Master has your infant, a woman like you’d never again try to escape.  We, all of us here, know that about you.  Besides,” and now Jorge looked directly back into her eyes, “it’s what we do to tame the women like you, to make you docile and easier to control.”

 

“You are not at all special in that way---many others before you have also left us with child.  We’ve never lied to you M, and you’ve always known from the beginning what we had planned for you.  Others before you have been in total denial right up until we sold them.  But you, you’ve tried to please us even as you pretended the submissiveness that we demand, but it was an act; this I know to be true of you.  Before being with us, you were like a nun sequestered in the most remote nunnery; men didn’t enter your life and if you ever considered them, it was only as young, crass boys mostly to be ignored.”

 

“But after your time here, you’ve learned at an almost instinctive level how men look at you and how they react to you; you’ve finally tapped into a deep understanding of Eros which has always been with you, but which you never bothered to acknowledge let alone try to understand.  Now, I think you feel that you understand perfectly what the men think of you, how they think about you.  But does it scare you?  Somehow, I don’t think so.  Finally, because of what you’ve gone through here, I also think that you feel you now know how to manipulate men.  This, you feel is your strength.”

 

“But you are still a child in so many ways, for soon you will learn who manipulates who.  But even deeper that this, there’s been something about you, some place deep inside you that we still haven’t reached, some fire that we haven’t put out and which we don’t understand.  You’ve always kept something back from me, from all of us…...”

 

She looked at him oddly, which in turn prompted him to exclaim, “Don’t make a face at me!   You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

 

I didn’t know how to respond to him.  Even though I’d felt continually more lethargic and without the will to fight, up until the point where they’d showed me their films, with only a few minor miscalculations---like becoming pregnant---I felt that I’d successfully fooled them.  I’d fooled them into believing that I was giving them everything that they wanted; that I was giving them what they’d apparently gotten from every other female captive they’d ever had.  I knew what he was talking about when he’d brought up my deceits, but prayed that he didn’t---prayed that he was working by intuition alone and not by something he might have learned about me. 

 

Besides, I KNEW that I was a different person from yesterday.  The overpowering sense of resignation that I now felt had been their goal all along.  “I’m not sure---I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied as I stalled, desperately casting about in my mind for a better strategy.  I knew that I’d quit playing games with them, and yet here I was, not twelve hours later still sparring with them.  God, I’d already gone through so much---I didn’t want to be tortured for what I’d done in the past.

 

Jorge looked at her for a moment with that questioning look that he had and then replied, “Well, no matter.  We shall see.”  And with that, he motioned her onto the bed.  Victoria slowly went from the edge of the bed to its center and lay on her back.  He stood at the edge looking down upon her and slowly shook his head, “Such beauty.” 

 

As with so many before her, he knew that while M’s mind had been the ultimate goal, her body had been the game board upon which the battles had been fought.  He liked the fact that she was so docile now, easily led to her bed and easily directed in every act while upon it.  While M had somehow managed to keep that aura of innocence about her that had been so appealing initially, the beautiful woman that lay on the bed with her nylon clad legs automatically spread wide for him was a vastly more erotic being than had been the unconscious teenager that they’d carried onto the boat a month ago.  He’d seen her changing in the last week, becoming so much more easily managed, almost ready and willing to be taught by a man now, to be led by any man that assumed control over her.  She’d almost reached the point where she no longer had the will power to be an individual, but automatically gave control to any that might be around her, taking for granted their right to do so.  He wasn’t sure that she even recognized this quality in herself and what he found most exciting, the tempo of her cooperation seemed to be accelerating. 

 

It was as if nothing they did to her body now surprised her, no act of brutality was too depraved to be unacceptable or unthinkable.  She had such a high level of “teachability” now that it was erotically exciting, challenging every man that rode her.  While there were occasional flashes of the old fire, they knew that she was tamed now, almost meek in her obedience to their every command.  And what was even better, not only was she was finally beginning to accept her subservient role in this new world, M was now reacting as a real woman might as they led her further and further into her personal wilderness with their demands and their training; this bode well for the man that took final possession of her.  This was what they had always wanted from her.  Her willingness to accept each and every thing that they did to her now, showed how far she had come in these last few days and weeks.

 

“You dream at night”, he continued as he looked down at her.  “Sometimes I come in and watch you.  Your dreams are full of anguish and that I can understand.  But you’re intelligent and what I can’t understand is why you are blind to so much of what you see around you here.  You’ve seen the design---you’ve lived through most of it.  But do you see the plan behind it?  You may not like it, but do you see the plan?  This design is what every man dreams of whether he’ll admit it or not—to take a single woman, that special woman that he dreams of to an isolated place and teach her what it is to give to him everything that makes her unique.  It may take patience, or much love, or even a lot of pain for the woman, but in the end the man always knows that the woman will finally understand her role and submit to him.  The most successful men aren’t looking for a woman to walk by their side, rather they want her tamed and walking behind him.  Our intentions are to fill a niche that has always existed---and as long as there are women like you who think they are somehow superior to men, the need to dominate you and make you obedient will always exist.”

 

“Most women are like you in many ways; while complex, they are always far more similar than they are different.  But your misfortune was to be both beautiful and naďve, as well as having an imperfect understanding of your true character---you have always been different from the other girls around you and this difference is why you are here.  Your beauty and the way you wear it means that you draw the eye of every man around you and after they’ve seen you once, it’s you that they’ll dream of at night for many weeks after.  You are the woman that they’d most like to have their way with. 

 

“You should be aware; even as young as you are and as protected as you have been, you have no idea how many men have made you their invisible lover night after night.  When these men make love to their wives, they close their eyes and it is a subservient you or some other beautiful creature like you that they see; in their fantasy, it is your often bloodied but willing body they are penetrating.  Even though you may feel that you have never done anything to deserve that kind of attention, you have no idea how many times you have undergone what is nothing less than the equivalent of psychic rape.”

 

“But it is your character that we work on here.  It is your submissiveness that needs to be brought forward to battle your ego.  Soon, my dear, if you are not already there, you too will be tamed---forever.  But until tomorrow evening,” he continued, “nothing here changes.  You will spend your time with us as usual.”

 

I didn’t know what to say and his remarks didn’t seem to call for a response, so I said nothing.  I lay on my back with my knees slightly spread.  One arm was by my side, while my other hand lay between my breasts, slightly covering them.  My hair was spread over the pillow and I knew that I looked at him with no expression on my face. 

 

“Such beauty,” he repeated almost to himself.

 

Jorge looked down upon her as he slowly undressed.  She looked at him with those expressionless green eyes that she sometimes used on him and he had no idea what was going through her mind.  He couldn’t help himself; he’d already taken this girl many times in many different ways, but again he stood looking down upon her and admiring her body.  Finally, he was naked in front of her and both of them knew that he was ready.  But his experience took over at this point and he lay down next to her and stroked her for a couple of minutes.  First he touched her breasts lightly, before his hand stroked further down her body where her flat belly continued to lead him down to where her legs met. 

 

Finally, he told her that he wanted her on top of him.  Jorge directed her to straddle his chest on her hands and knees facing away from him.  Victoria did this and without any prompting by him, she leaned over and took him in her mouth, thus presenting her hips to him.  He closed his eyes as his hands slowly stroked the outsides of her nylon covered thighs.  He’d never lost the feeling of utter delight at being able to touch a beautiful docile woman dressed like this.

 

Victoria was quite accomplished at giving blowjobs by now and the sensations to Jorge were quite pleasant; it was all he could do to just close his eyes and let her have her way with him.  In fact, she was good enough that he had to make her stop a couple of times in order to prevent his too cumming early.  When he finally had himself under control, he reached up and slowly moved aside the thin strip of material which made up the crotch of her G-string and began to manipulate the insides of her thighs and lips of Victoria’s vagina, strictly avoiding her clitoris. 

 

I didn’t mind the oral sex so much now.  I still hated being throat fucked by The Evil One, but was used to having a man in my mouth in the other ways now; the taste and feel didn’t seem nearly as bad as it had a month ago.  The tactile sensations of a man’s penis on my tongue, the natural ribs caused by his bulging veins, the ridges of his circumcised head, the motion of his hips, his hands in my hair and on my head pulling me toward him, they all combined in a mix of taste and feel that I had somehow learned to accept.  I’d finally realized how much pleasure it seemed to give the men.  And while I knew that I should hate feeling this way, it gave me pleasure to give them pleasure.  They loved it, and as an added bonus the woman in me noticed that if things were going well while I was sucking on them, their brains actually seemed to stop functioning. 

 

The only problem was when Jorge pulled the crotch of my panties aside and began to touch me softly between my legs.  He’d spent too much time there and it had began to feel good to me, very good.  Suddenly, I realized that my hips were moving to a beat that only his fingers could hear and I could feel myself becoming moister between my legs by the moment.  It was at that moment that he insisted I lie down and spread my legs for him.

 

On the video, Jorge had finally seen what he thought Victoria was hiding; he’d watched her time after time do anything to avoid having her clitoris manipulated.  She guarded this part of her body like it was a treasure consisting of pearls and gold, using both discrete misdirection of her partners as well as an almost theatrical ability to exploit her sexuality to disguise her real sexual weakness.  He KNEW that he’d hit her G-spot on the first day immediately after he’d performed a lot of oral sex on her; she’d fucked him with everything that she had after that but in the end she’d still tried to manipulate him.  She’d done it numerous times after that and he’d seen her on video do it to both Manuel and Enrique too.  The sex with her had been great, but dishonest.

 

God knows he thought to himself, she’d been an unwilling partner in a lot of sex over the last month.  And if it were him in her position, he might even try to do the same thing.  But he wasn’t her and he planned on using her sexuality against her, forcing her away from her deceitful behavior.  Who knew?  She might even have a totally honest sexual experience in bed for once even if it were against her will. 

 

Jorge planned on manipulating her genitals for awhile, but he would strictly leave her clitoris alone.  He would then go after her G-spot for real and make her cum until she was exhausted; only after that would he then go back and exploit her clit.  He’d work on that for awhile and when he finally had her where he wanted her, then he’d fuck her brains out.  He had high hopes today of finally being able crack this girls’ wall of secrecy, the one with which she used to hide her true self from them.  It might take a cosmic level of foreplay, but he was a professional and she was an amateur.  The way that she had so far denied him this last victory over her meant that she had become a true challenge to him---he HAD to see her chest flushed just like the Wolf had described to him.  Only by this would he know that he had finally succeeded in conquering her.

 

He continued to work on her vagina with his mouth and fingers for at least ten minutes, always touching, kissing and sucking on her labia and around her vagina, but generally avoiding her clit.  She continued to get more and more hot, whether she wanted to or not.  And when he finally did touch her engorged clit every so often, she inevitably jumped with the intense sensation.  After a few more minutes of this, he switched positions and had her laying on her back with her knees raised and legs spread for him.

 

Now he was going after her G-spot.  First he lowered himself between her thighs as he stroked Victoria, gently touching the inside of her thighs, stomach, breasts and her rear end.  Finally, after another moment had passed, he again pushed the crotch of her G-string aside and inserted his finger inside her vagina, keeping his fingertip facing her clitoris and moving his wrist that he was probing past the muscles at the entry to her vagina, following the curve of her body so that his finger ended up on the other side of her pubic bone and facing him.

 

Jorge felt thin pads of tissue there and he began to work them; as he did, he felt her first jump and then he felt them begin to swell as his touch became more pleasurable to her.  Once they began swelling, he experimented with different moves, moves that other women had found pleasurable....rubbing his finger from side to side (gently at first and then increasing the pressure and pace as Victoria’s arousal gained momentum)...tapping gently on the sensitive area....stroking down and up...using two fingers instead of one.  He stayed focused, watched her responses and always responding to her reactions.

 

Once again she jumped as if in pain and he didn’t know if this was good or bad.  He knew that an inexperienced woman like Victoria had probably never undergone this kind of stimulation and you just never knew what kind of response you might get from her.  For all he knew, Victoria might jump straight into sexual ecstasy or feel nothing; on the other hand, it could be uncomfortable or even painful to her.

 

Jorge felt the tissue swell even more beneath his fingers and he stayed with the three basic strokes as he worked her body.  The one that she seemed to respond to the most was a deep stroking action as he was pulled his fingers almost out of her vagina.  He followed this with a tapping motion and finally a side to side motion.  Victoria appeared deeply appreciative of all three efforts and after a few minutes, achieved a truly awe-inspiring orgasm.  This was accompanied by the release of a thickish, clear liquid that he found on his fingers---it was almost like she was ejaculating.  The smell now coming from between her legs was a musky aroma that filled the cabin; while all women have a scent in this situation, he’d only noticed the accompanying secretions from a few women that had been truly turned on.  The combination of strong smell and feminine ejaculate was designed by nature to drive men insane with its demands on their bodies.

 

I neither knew what Jorge was doing to me nor why he was giving me this kind of long, detailed foreplay.  All I knew was that it felt incredibly good.  Suddenly, I reached up and grabbed his hand to try to stop him, but I was too late.  Finally, I knew that he must be aware of what I had been doing; he must know because everything that he seemed to be doing was directed towards defeating me---the me that no longer existed.  I shook my head at the unfairness of it all; to be able to protect myself all this time and then to lose everything at the very end.

 

As he pulled my hand away from his and he continued to stimulate me, it suddenly led to some of the most intense sensations and contractions that I’d ever felt.  Abruptly, I was embarrassed because his continued stimulation had made me feel like I had to urinate.  I whimpered that I had to pee, but he wouldn’t stop or let me go.  Instead, he whispered for me to relax and breathe, to just “let go” of the sensation.  And suddenly, as he continued, Jorge’s touch there gave me the most intense, most profound and most pleasurable orgasm that I’d ever experienced in my life.  I came and I came and I came; it never seemed to end.

 

My head flew from side to side as I cried out in low moaning tones.  At the same time, my thighs locked his fingers inside my body.  He later said that he could see my belly ripple as my abdominal muscles moved with each succeeding wave of pleasure and his hand was actually wet now with my vaginal secretions.

 

As he slowly allowed me to come down, I felt a tingling and then a sudden warmth all over as my blood flowed rushing to all parts of my body.  I felt a deep and overwhelming sense of well-being; a pervasive flowing sensation that seemed to speed throughout my body, all of which was accompanied by wider, more broad waves of feeling almost as if I were floating.

 

Jorge finally relented and allowed me to breathe for a moment.  I luxuriated in the feelings that flowed throughout my body; an almost emotional release in which a totally new feeling had been awakened in me that left me wondering what areas of my being he had been able to touch with his fingers.

 

Suddenly, too soon, he picked up the curved wand that he’d brought in and pushed my knees apart again.  I could feel how wet I now was and how easy it was for him to pull the crotch of my panties aside and insert this thing inside me.  It felt wonderful to be finally filled, even if by a mechanical object.  I had no say in what he did next---when he had it inside me as far as he wanted it, he turned it on.  I’d raised my head to watch what he was doing to me between my legs and immediately, I felt my head slam back against the mattress as this thing in his hand exactly hit my G-spot again, giving me the same or even more intense sensations than those from which I just recovered. 

 

He started working on me with this and I lay totally vulnerable and opened before him, literally physically helpless now with my knees spread wide to receive his attention as overwhelming feelings and emotions of an almost religious intensity ricocheted throughout my body.  Jorge’s style was excellent; he soon found that a stabbing motion didn’t do as much for me as when he ended the penetrations with a forceful pulling out motion.  He continued this for a couple of minutes, varying his routine only slightly when suddenly I came again.  This time, I squirted what seemed like buckets as I lay writhing beneath his hands a second time.  I just couldn’t seem to catch my breath and I knew that I was babbling to him.

 

Jorge was now crouched over Victoria facing her spread knees---it was time to work her clit a little more before the main event.  His head and hands hovered above her loins as he continued to manipulate her labia and that small elusive button of sensitive flesh even as her hips rotated around his fingers.  He’d leaned his hips down towards Victoria’s face and she’d greedily grabbed his cock again and put it in her mouth.  By now, she’d taken him all the way into her mouth and she was sucking hard on him and manipulating his nuts at the same time---this was dangerous territory.  He let go of the thin strip of material that ran between her legs; his head was raised and his eyes were closed as he enjoyed what she was doing to him.

 

He reached down to pull the thin strip of lace aside again and was astounded to feel it almost sopping wet from her now juicy pussy.  With his target now bared, he was able to apply the vibrator directly upon her red and engorged clitoris again.  The second he did this, he felt Victoria stiffen and stop sucking at his loins, after which she gave out a low moan of pure animal pleasure.  After a moment, she leaned back into him and resumed her sucking.  Her hips however, seemed to respond even more enthusiastically to his actions.  After several minutes, he was delighted to see that the crotch of her panties were now just sodden with her moisture.  While she leaned into him with her left hand on the mattress beside his hip, he put the vibrator in her right hand.  Jorge told Victoria to take the vibrator.  “Don’t stop what you’re doing to me,” he said to her, “but I also want you to use the vibrator on yourself.”  She was nothing if not cooperative.

 

Now they reversed positions with her on top and facing his huge erection.  With his hands now freed, Jorge began to remove Victoria’s G-string.  He took his time, ensuring that he kept his hips so that she could always maintain her suction on his cock; he removed the tiny panties first from her right leg and then off of her left leg.  By taking his time, there was no interruption in the rhythm of pleasure between them.  But now finished with that chore, Jorge raised his head slightly and pushing the vibrator in her hands to the side, he pulled down on her hips, forcing her vagina into his face and onto his waiting mouth. 

 

As he began sucking on her juicy, destroyed pussy, he heard Victoria inhale quickly and then give out single deep, long, drawn out groan of pleasure again---this sound pleased him.  At the same time, as his mouth rested on her vagina, his left hand was now down by his belly and cupping her breasts one at a time as they rested on his chest.  Each breast was a handful and he was able to play with her nipples, all the while he was massaging and pulling on her breasts.

 

I couldn’t help myself, what he was doing just felt too good for me not to respond.  I’d already had two huge orgasms and too many small ones to count.  All I wanted to do was cooperate with anything that Jorge might ask of me.  I had his cock in my mouth and whenever his face didn’t prevent it, I also masturbated myself at exactly the right place between my legs with the vibrator.  The combination of his mouth alternately sucking and pulling and tugging on my labia and then my clitoris, his pulling and manipulating my breasts and the vibrator massaging my clit was almost overpowering.  Suddenly, I had forgotten about not wanting to cooperate and about not liking to perform oral sex; I’d forgotten about everything except what was going on with my body and how much I wanted a man deep, deep inside of me.

 

Finally he was ready.  Jorge moved her onto her left side and after placing his knees on either side of her left thigh, he lowered himself until he sat on the inside of her thigh, pinning it to the mattress with his weight.  He then reached over and raised her right leg until it pointed into the air and he could grasp it and pull it into his chest with her knee in a locked position.  Telling her to guide him he moved his hips until she could grasp his erection, and then she opened herself with her left hand as she guided (actually pulled) him into her wet vagina with her right hand. 

 

As he gave the first move of his hips, she was so moist and ready for him that he was immediately buried in her as deep as it is physically possible for him to penetrate.  The moist heat from her vagina as it encased him was amazing---she was so hot that it almost felt like it would burn him.  At that first penetration, Victoria threw her head back and gave a long scream of pure animal lust.  It went on long enough that everyone on the boat knew that she’d finally been forced to release the pent up sexual energy that she’d been hiding from them for so long.

 

Something else that Jorge knew she wasn’t thinking about at that moment was that she was also directly facing a camera that was still faithfully recording every movement she made as she fucked him, every expression on her face as she continued to have multiple orgasms.  This film too would make it into the video.

 

They fucked like maniacs.  It was impossible to tell who was doing what to whom.  First he was on top driving into her and then she was on top, grasping with her vaginal muscles, demanding every inch of his erection that she could possibly get.  When he finally came inside her, she refused to let go of his cock until she’d wrung every remaining drop from him.  Watching the film later, everyone was impressed with how far their ‘virgin’ had come in less than a month under their patient tutelage.

 

We lay in bed, exhausted.  I couldn’t help myself as I marveled at the tingling that I felt in every part of my body---it had never been like this before.  Without asking permission, I kicked off first one high heel and then the other.  I luxuriously stretched and ran my stockinged foot up the inside of my other leg and marveled at how sensitive every part of my body felt now.  God, if I’d only known how good it could be, I’d never have fought them like I had.  If they’d only promised me one or two good lays a week like this one, I’d have followed them anywhere and done anything for them.

 

They lay in bed, exhausted.  He looked at her chest and it was a rosy red from her abdomen to her chin.  Victoria’s face was flushed too and the sweat on her body had just now begun to dry.  Looking at her face as his fingers traced soft circles around her still sensitive nipples, he said, “I know what you’ve been doing, what you’ve tried to keep from us.”

 

I came crashing down from my flights of imagination.  Suddenly wary, I tried to answer and failed.  I had been told explicitly what they would do to anyone that tried to game them.  But in the end, I’d finally learned what they had demanded---surely this counted for something?  I didn’t want to go back to being physically tortured on a daily basis as punishment for something I’d already learned.  

 

Swallowing, I tried again to speak and was successful.  “Please,” I begged him.  “Please don’t tell on me.  I’ve changed---you’ve won and I promise I won’t try to do that anymore.  Please, I beg of you, I’ll do anything you want.  Please.”

 

He just looked at her without expression.  Inside however, he was amazed.  She’d apparently either forgotten about the cameras in the cabin or assumed that they were turned off now that her films were completed.  Everything was being recorded and would be sent to her new owner.  That she’d admitted to trying to fool them, the way she’d responded to his manipulations, the way she’d fucked like a bitch in heat after the extended foreplay, even her feeble attempts at begging for mercy---all would be sent on.

 

Keeping his face expressionless for a second, Jorge finally smiled and nodded, “Okay, it’s between us.  Now we try it again.”  And he pulled her unresisting body onto her stomach as he prepared to take her from the rear.  This time, he made sure that she responded enthusiastically to each and every move HE made; this time he made sure that she writhed on his pole until HE was satisfied; this time he made sure that she fucked HIM as his cock was buried in her ass.  And he left her crying when he was finished.  But whether from what he’d done to her or from what he’d discovered about her, he neither knew nor cared.

 

Day Twenty-Eight: Victoria Finally Departs To Meet Her New Master

 

I had spent the morning getting ready to depart.  I was scared, but felt a sense of excitement that surprised me.  I was young and I was facing the unknown, yet at the same time I knew exactly what my new life held for me---this had been made VERY clear to me---and I was ready to face it with as much poise and confidence as I could.

Except for the anal sex, yesterday’s time with Jorge had left me feeling as good as I had felt in a long time.  It seemed like a huge weight had been taken off of my chest.  The new reality the movies had brought, the physical release that Jorge had given me, the relief that I’d felt after I’d decided to no longer fight my fate, moving on to my new master; it all seemed to come together at once.

The boat was still about three hours from docking when Jorge allowed me to go into my cabin and begin getting ready for tonight’s meeting.  He was solicitous as he served me several cups of coffee to help me relax as I packed to leave.  I was able to pack everything that I’d been wearing into two large suitcases.  Depending upon how he wanted to use me, while my new Master may soon need to buy me some new dresses, he wouldn’t need to buy me lingerie for years.  I thought with regret back to Bossman, and how we’d finally been able to get along at the end just before he’d left the boat.  I was certain; if I had to have a Master, I wished it were him.  But that was not to be.

I felt that this was a golden opportunity so I took a lot of care that afternoon, trying to make myself look as good as possible for my new Master.  I was glad that Jorge had decided to let me leave without having to wear that damnable plug inside me.  I may be someone’s newly purchased pleasure slave, but arriving without that monstrosity would simplify a lot of things and perhaps allow my beauty and grace to impress onlookers.  If he kept other women for pleasure besides me, I would do my best to become his favorite toy since I felt that this would simplify my life with him.

After carefully putting on my makeup and brushing out my hair, I walked over to the clothes hangers in the corner and took down a simple navy blue pleated skirt that came to within two inches above my knees and an almost transparent white silk blouse with a deep V neck.  I matched these with sheer navy hose, a silk navy garter belt and dark blue pumps with four inch stiletto heels.  Looking at myself in the mirror, I knew that I would be able to make a simple yet classy, perhaps even sexy entrance.

Oddly, The Evil One had handed me a second navy garter belt and informed that I would wear this one too.  This garter belt was much wider than normal as it encircled my waist, it rested higher on my hips than I had become familiar with and had only one slightly longer garter strap hanging down in front.  I noticed that this garter strap was also much stronger than the other garters that I normally wore.  After inspecting it closely, I could see that if this single garter were stretched tightly, it could be fastened firmly to the back of the wide garter belt that I was to wear.  While it didn’t make sense to wear two garter belts, especially one that had a strap hanging down in front, I did as I was commanded.  

The Evil One came in and I submitted to him, assuming my customary position.  Without ceremony, he walked in back of me, lifted my skirt and pushed my thighs apart.  I blushed at this, but he didn’t seem to notice as he then reached between my legs and grabbed the end of the single unattached garter that hung down in front between my legs, pulled it up between my thighs and hooked it to the wide belt in back.  It was tightly stretched now from front to back and split the lips of my pussy as well snuggling deeply in the crack of my buttocks.  He then left without a word.  It was as if this strap was the crotch of a weirdly designed thong; the second garter was rather uncomfortable and it took me a while to get used to wearing it.  

I was dressed in less than an hour and now waited impatiently for this part of my journey to end.  I felt like I’d lived a lifetime in the last three or four weeks.  Coincidentally, at this point the small bathroom in my cabin had backed up and I was forced to wait until I got onshore before I could go to the bathroom.  It was at times like this that I sometimes wished that I were a man.  Of course, if I were a man, I wouldn’t have been here in the first place.

Eventually the boat approached a large marina dock at dusk and I was escorted by the men off of the boat in disguise.  Just before we had arrived, Jorge had handcuffed my wrists behind my back to ensure that I didn’t try to runaway---as if I’d try to escape by running on a dock made of wooden planks while wearing four inch stilettos.  Although the weather was mild, he’d thrown a long, yet light cotton cape over my shoulders to hide the wrist cuffs.  In addition, he’d also forced a two inch diameter rubber ball into my mouth and then covered my lips with a wide piece of flesh colored tape to gag me.  Finally, he’d somehow come up with a floppy brimmed hat that covered my face most of the time.  From fifty feet away in the gathering dark, no one would ever notice that fact that I was bound and gagged.  

I don’t know why, but I tried to act normal as normal as possible as I walked along that dock.  Acting not as a young kidnapped girl that was handcuffed and gagged, one that had been raped and tortured and who had been sold into sexual slavery, but instead, as an innocent young girl being escorted somewhere by her older brothers.

As I was being escorted to my transportation, I thought about my last four or five years at school and of what I had dreamed my future to be.  The places I would visit, the men that I would meet and with whom I would go on exotic vacations.  We’d have chilled drinks on beautiful patios overlooking the Mediterranean; spend time in the fantastic cities of Eastern Europe and the Middle East.  It would all be wonderful!  Eventually, I’d meet the man of my dreams and he would fall in love with me, and ask me to marry him.  

Funny, the things you think about when you’re a newly trained sex slave and you’re being unexpectedly transferred from one location to another; you’re being taken some place you’ve never been because you belong to a man you’ve never met, and he’ll use you for things you’ve never dreamed you be forced to do.  Oddly, I was somehow at peace with the fact that I belonged to a man and that he would force me to have sex with him at his pleasure until he tired of me.  It would have been impossible for me to have dreamed of this happening to another woman a month ago, let alone me actually living through it.

Along with my luggage, I was escorted down the dock and into a parking lot where a large SUV was waiting for me.  My floppy hat was removed and I was silently given over to the three men waiting there.  Jorge, Manuel and Enrique turned and walked away from me without another word.  I watched them for a minute and none of them ever looked back at me.  My eyes teared slightly; the hellboat was a known evil and as bad as it had been, for some reason I felt like a small child that had just lost my parents.  

Still gagged and cuffed, the men helped me into the front seat and then we pulled out along the coast road.  Conversation was stiff; all of the men were programmed to say little and seemed thoroughly incapable of small talk.  Or maybe, as the new Master’s whore I was below their station in life.  I watched the road signs carefully.  I’d like to know where I was, not so much because I thought I could escape, for I had already been told that I would be put on the leash by my new Master for at least a month, but rather out of sheer curiosity.  Still not a word from the front or back seats.

We drove for ten minutes along the well lit road and I was surprised to see a lot of heavy truck traffic going in both directions.  We soon slowed down and pulled around to the back of a closed gas station---even if this was not the Hilton, I hoped that I would be allowed to go to the bathroom here.  While the driver walked around to the back of their vehicle, the other two men helped me down from my seat and held me with a firm grip on each arm.  I looked at the men in a little fear for this did not make sense.

The driver then walked around and stood next to Victoria where he took a stiff rubber rod out of a paper bag that he was now carrying.  The rod had a set of beads on it arranged by size and he proceeded to lubricate them lightly with what turned out to be Bengay.  These plastic anal beads grew progressively larger as one went from the tip towards the base of the rod.  The big end of the rod had a wide, flat flange on it to prevent its penetrating too deeply into its female victim and it had a leather loop on the end with which to pull it out when the man was done humiliating his woman.  

Looking at me with an evil smile, he said, “Consider this a parting gift from Roberto.”

While I had never seen one of these things before and didn’t know what they planned to do with it, I also knew that without a doubt that it didn’t mean anything good for me and I tried to turn and run.  The two men standing next to me casually grabbed me before I could even really make a move and lifted me up and threw me face down over the fender of the SUV.  I was still handcuffed, and although I struggled, kicking my legs and throwing myself from side to side, the two men each grabbed an arm and an ankle and easily pinned me down on the fender while they pulled my legs wide apart.  The driver then proceeded to unhook the single garter that ran between my legs, spread my butt cheeks and in a totally disinterested, business-like manner, he inserted the rod end and the two smallest beads into my anus.  Because of the rubber butt plugs that I’d been wearing for the last month, my body easily accepted these smaller beads.  But while I gave a muffled scream of indignation and fought this as hard as I could, I was again helpless in the face of the experienced slavers.  

The driver then grabbed the front garter strap, ran it through the looped handle and positioned it carefully over the end of the rubber rod before re-connecting it to the rear of the wide garter belt around my waist.  The strong, tightly stretched garter strap now split the lips of my pussy again; while I was still lying on the fender and before I could even think about trying to clamp my sphincter shut the third bead had been driven inside my rectum under the pressure from the tightly stretched garter.

The men watched without interest as Vicki began a muffled begging as soon as the Bengay started to take effect.  She knew that without a doubt this had to be the beginning of her punishment for trying to resist the men on the boat.  Taking her arms, her two escorts dragged her back down off the fender and began walking her back to the open door of the SUV.  She walked with difficulty due to unfamiliar presence in her ass.  The Bengay was already stoking a furnace and as they walked, the strong garter strap kept up its pressure on the rod that now pushed more deeply into her asshole with almost every step.  Three more times on the short trip to the vehicle door, almost once with each step, each move of her hips resulted in a new and larger bead forcing its way past her sphincter and injecting a whole new load of Bengay in her already burning asshole.  Even as Victoria involuntarily accepted the final and largest anal bead inside her body, the smaller beads that were at the tip of the rod continued to lead the way into her body, thus ensuring that their message of pain was carried profoundly deeper into her rectum.  Little did she know that the last and largest bead had Tobasco sauce mixed with the Bengay.  Just as they reached the car door, the last bead popped in.

I somehow climbed into the SUV with their help and was belted into the front passenger seat which forced the beads even more deeply inside me.  The rod was now firmly seated inside my lower body up to the flange.  Designed well, that wide piece was the only thing preventing an even deeper penetration of my rectum by the beads.  The seat had also been reclined by the driver, forcing me to lie back on my bound hands.  I was now in continuous pain from the burning inside my rectum and my hips were in constant motion, trying to achieve some kind of relief in an impossible quest for sanctuary.  Even worse, I still had to go to the bathroom.  While this pain was not as great as that from my rectum, the feeling of urgency continued to grow.

I had lost all interest in fighting them; the men now easily tied my ankles together using a strip of Velcro and a rope was run from my hands, between the seat back and seat bottom and then back to my ankles.  The driver pulled the rope tight; his actions pulled my ankles snugly against the front of the seat; this in turn forced me to arch my back in an attempt to relieve the pressure on knees and ankles.  In my reclined position, this in effect raised my knees above my hips.  Because of the brutal physical intrusion of the rod and anal balls, the only way I could achieve any kind of relief from the rectal invasion was to spread my knees as widely as was humanly possible.  At the same time, I was forced to continue grinding my hips into the seat in an unsuccessful attempt to bring some kind of relief from the burning fire in my rear.  After pulling my skirt back up around my thighs without saying a word, the driver now started the car, pulled back out on the coastal road and the trip to my new Master’s home began again.  

A natural result of gravity is that things always want to go from higher areas to lower—nature rules and everything inexorably else obeys, sometimes sooner, sometimes later.  It was this function that caused her pleated skirt to now want to slide down her slick, nylon clad thighs to her hips.  Between the normal vibrations of the road and Victoria's squirming from the unbelievable pain in her rectal canal, the pleated blue skirt started its inevitable slide towards her waist.  The driver turned to her and smiled without sympathy, “I understand your Master has some interesting plans for you upon arrival---a nice steaming enema, a good, long ass fucking and God only knows what else.”  She ignored him as she had much more serious concerns with which to contend.  

First to become visible were the darker tops of her stockings.  If the outside observer could ignore her obvious pain, with her knees spread wide on the reclined passenger seat she presented a provocative and sexy view of a beautiful woman.  Victoria was crying at this point and through her haze of pain, she wondered faintly if the truckers driving by could see into the interior of the vehicle well enough to notice her.  She hoped not, but from the sound of the air horns when they passed the trucks, she assumed they could.  

Because of her spread knees and the writhing of her hips on the reclined seat, her skirt had next slid to the point that her garters could be seen and, in a humiliating finale, her exposed and mostly naked pussy was fully revealed to each passing truck driver.  She wasn’t sure, but they might have caused a wreck or two as they passed various trucks.  Obviously, the word had gone out as every truck they passed had its driver hanging out the window to see the beautiful blonde exhibitionist.  The fact that she was constantly grinding her pelvis into the seat for them just made it an even hotter scene for them.  This was something that they would be talking about for a long time.  

All they had seen were the knees spread wide, the stocking clad thighs and the moving hips.  Not one of them had noticed the bound wrists or the shocked look in the pleading eyes, the tears running down the now haggard face or the gagged mouth that kept in the cries of pain.

I had lost all interest in reading the traffic signs for I no longer cared where we were.  This trip to meet my new Master was awful; it was hell---so much for my grand entrance.  Through the acid-like burning in my anus around which my whole world now centered, I knew that this trip had started badly and that when they got me to new Master’s home, things would only get worse.

Eventually they pulled up in front of a large stucco’d building built in the manner of the colonial past.  The SUV was parked in a large circular drive in front of a grand and well manicured entrance.  The mansion was designed with two wings and looked to be quite large, as though it might contain up to 7,000 or even 8,000 square feet under one roof.  But Victoria could be excused for this estimate, since in total it encompassed over 16,000 square feet, much of it being underground.

 

This was the day that I had dreaded for over three weeks---meeting my new Master.  But frankly, I could care less at the moment what my new owner or the home of my new owner looked like or even how he acted towards me.  I was in agony, with the mix of Bengay and Tobasco exceeding anything The Demon might have done to me in person.  When we arrived I was dragged from the SUV by two men and forced around to a side entrance where deliveries were made.  

I could barely walk, but was mostly dragged into a sizable, well appointed kitchen where I was met by a large Hispanic man.  He looked with disapproval at my disheveled appearance and constantly moving hips, my tear-filled eyes and rather mussed hair, but finally introduced himself as ‘Georges’.  He turned without another word and led the small parade through the kitchen to a heavy locked door set into a whitewashed stone wall.  Opening the door with a key that he carried on a ring with a bunch of other keys, we descended a series of steps that led to a subterranean level.

Still handcuffed, full of fear and dread and in real pain, I was finally, reluctantly ushered by Georges into a large, rather dark room with what seemed a low ceiling; I walked stiffly to the center where I did my best to assume a submissive position.  I furtively looked around me in shock as I subtly shifted my weight from one foot to the other and back again.  My eyes had still not adjusted from being outside at night and it took several moments for me to be able to see everything clearly.  There were at least seven or eight men apparently waiting for my arrival.  

Georges looked at me impassively and without pity, turned without saying another word and along with the two escorts left me alone with the men.  In great pain, I numbly waited for instructions.  Intellectually, I knew the fate that awaited me, but emotionally, in my heart I was still trying to make the leap from being a college student on one day to being prostituted a month later to any man that my new Master might want to let use me, let alone a whole roomful of men.  

All of the men had apparently been sitting at a long table playing cards, killing time.  Most had been drinking, but none appeared drunk.  A beautiful pool table took up the center of the room.  There were also a series of couches up against the walls around the room and what looked like nice Persian rugs in front of each couch.  A door in front of me led off to what appeared to be a bathroom.

Still standing in the center of the room, it was obvious to all that my face was drawn and white with pain.  I was still continually moving my hips and clenching my butt cheeks together in an attempt to not cry out.  Whatever it was, the mixture that the driver had painted on the balls now buried so deeply inside me burned like acid, incinerating the vulnerable flesh of my rectum that now sported small rips and tears due to the previous weeks of anal training.  This pain was all that I cared about right now—it consumed my world and me with it.

At the same time, I slowly swayed back and forth as I tried to keep from urinating in front of these men.  If only I hadn’t drank so much coffee this afternoon.  If only the toilet hadn’t stopped working.  If only I hadn’t been kidnapped…….

I’d been a nice girl before these men had gotten their hands on me---they’d degraded and humiliated me the whole time I’d been in their possession.  I remembered all the care I’d taken this afternoon in putting on my makeup and in choosing what to wear to meet my new Master tonight.  I thought about my stupid vow to unseat any other female slaves from their positions.  Fat chance of that now!  I knew I looked like hell right now; and I certainly didn’t feel very special right now, but rather betrayed, abused and brutalized.

One man stepped forward and snapped his fingers.  Two men grabbed me and dragged me in front of the leader.  He looked at me for minute without saying a word and then he grabbed my chin.  I still had the large rubber ball in mouth and the tape over my lips; holding my jaw painfully hard, he first turned my head to the left and then to the right as he looked at my face.  

Then he said, “So this is the one.  This is the one that has caused so much trouble over the last couple of weeks.”

He hesitated for a moment before he continued, “Pretty little thing.  Although she’s not so little, is she?”  At this comment, there were a couple of appreciative chuckles.

“You’re due some pain; we’ve been told that we’re allowed to punish you.  I’m not sure exactly what you’ve done, but you’ve seriously pissed some people off.  You seem to be in a little, shall we say ‘discomfort’ from Roberto’s gift to you.  I like him and I don’t know you---that alone should trouble you a little.”

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at Victoria, “I’ve been given some suggestions about how to treat you and what to do with you, but we’ll see.”

“You need to be ‘pumped and flushed’, but I’m not sure that we’re gonna’ give you what you need tonight.  We’d planned on giving you an enema and then corking your ass and letting you stew in your own juices for awhile.  I know that you’ve got to piss too; you think the coffee and other stuff was an accident?  We were also going to catheterize you and let your bladder work a little while longer too.  By the way, you piss on the floor and I’ll beat you bloody fucking senseless---do you understand me?”

As he said this, he’d grabbed hair at the back of her head and forced her to nod her understanding of his order.  He continued in a low voice, “What I do know is that we’re going to give you everything that we want you to have and that you’ll take everything that we want you take, but you may not get what YOU need tonight.  We’ll see; it all depends upon how appreciative you are and on how well you behave.”

***

The Master of the new whore had gathered these men from his plantation and given them permission to use the bitch hard on her first night in.  She was to be punished for some infraction that occurred during her training and he wanted to see how submissive she actually was.  Some of these men were second-generation employees.  While extremely loyal, except for their leader these men were also all very low level employees like gardeners, drivers and all-around handy men---they were the lowest of the low.  These men had no real education, no real prospects and no certain hope.  They were all unwashed, ignorant and at deadends in their lives.  Perhaps the worst part was that they knew this about themselves.  

The men knew that this was a lying bitch and they planned on giving her one hell of a lot more than an enema tonight.  But first, they’d make sure that she knew that she was no better than them.  If they lived a life of ultimate hopelessness, they’d make sure that this cunt was going to be right down there with them in the gutter.  They were looking at tonight as an opportunity to humiliate a beautiful young woman and as a way to have great fun at the expense of this stupid slave bitch.  

***

“Put her up against the pool table.”

I was still handcuffed; laughing, the men grabbed my arms and dragged me unresisting to the pool table where they forced me to bend over.  They then pushed my face onto the surface.  I now laid there draped over the edge of the pool table with the right side of my face pressed firmly into the felt surface.

The leader then told them to free my wrists and after a moment of fumbling, another man off to the side stepped up and took the handcuffs off of me.  My wrists now freed, one of the men put me my left arm in a wrist lock and as he lifted up on my hand and wrist, all I could do was try to push my face into the table even further in an attempt to reduce the pain he was causing me.  I was barely aware that they had lifted my skirt up around my waist and now looked at my nylon clad legs and my naked butt as it was aimed into air—at this point the room went silent and one of the men gave out a soft whistle.  

The leader laughed and said, “Little one, you may only be nineteen, but you are definitely a woman.

Although in agony from both the balls and rod so deeply entombed inside me and from the burning crčme that they carried, I was still embarrassed that they could see me naked from the waist down.  I tried to resist them a little once again but they held me firm.  My other hand had now also been put in a wrist lock and with both arms twisted into the air, I was helpless.  But I still had to urinate, and the more they pushed my abdomen against the table and the more that the men used their pressure holds on me, the more I was afraid that my distended bladder would fail and that I would undergo this ultimate humiliation in front of these men.

The men were clustered around the table looking at the beautiful American teenager.  One of the men moved aside the wide garter that had kept everything pushed inside her and from the side, all that could be seen between the crack of her ass was the loop on the handle at the very base of the shaft.  The rubber stick was now buried completely inside her so deeply that when viewed directly from her rear, the wide flange at the base was only visible as it made a nice wide dimple that covered her asshole.  The men looked at each other with surprise and some shook their heads.  They’d been told what the driver had planned for her and they knew that most women couldn’t eat the whole stick like that without serious discomfort or even injury; and she hadn’t seemed in THAT much discomfort.  Although a little young, this was a woman they knew in which a MAN could lose himself; a woman capable of taking inside and holding in everything a man had to offer.

I felt one of them fumble between my legs and finally unhook the pressure garter from the end of the rubber stick.  Then slowly, oh-so-slowly, one of them began to pull on the loop that I knew must still be sticking out of me and leisurely start to withdraw the rod from inside my rectum.  I was further humiliated as I could hear my anus making either a hungry slurping noise or a farting sound as the rod was slowly removed and each ball popped out of me and back into sight again.  Soon, these disconcerting sounds were drowned out by the laughter of the men.  

Finally, it was done and I felt like a huge, but necessary presence in my colon had been removed and the void left behind somehow felt like it still needed to be, somehow ached to be filled again to return me to normalcy.  But my rectum still burned with what the rod had carried inside of me and I had no way to stop that.

The leader said something to another one of the men and soon someone was standing behind me, spreading my cheeks.  Suddenly, there was the blessed relief of a cold, wet washcloth, first cleaning me around my anus and then deeper as the man roughly probed and rubbed and swabbed.  He kept pushing deeper and deeper, and although he did not go as deeply as I desired it still helped me immensely.  

I felt the leader step behind me and then he told the men to take off the tape that covered my mouth.  When this had been done, without waiting for his permission, I opened my jaw as best I could and the wet rubber ball slowly fell out of my mouth and onto the felt of the pool table.  As it rolled away from my face, a thin wet line was left on the felt from the saliva wet ball.  After I did this, to emphasize my training about doing nothing without waiting for permission from my current Master, one of the men put even more pressure on my wrist and lifted my arm, almost tearing it out of my shoulder socket.  All I could do was groan and cry out in pain.

The leader stood behind Victoria and just looked at her lower body.  She was wearing navy stockings and shoes with nice high stiletto heels.  Her buttocks were bare and the tops of her hose ended only a few inches below her firm ass.  The tops of her stockings were of a heavier dark blue lace and about three inches wide; the wide lace band at the front of her thighs was pressed firmly against the side of the pool table as she was forced to lean into it.  Damn, he thought to himself.  While the bitch really did have great legs, her high heels emphasized her calves and turned her legs from merely great to fucking magnificent.  

To his men he said, “Move her legs apart.”  The two men holding her wrists immediately stepped towards each other and hooked their ankles inside of Victoria’s  Once they’d done this, they dragged their feet back and forced her legs further apart until finally her feet were between three and four feet apart.

Slowly, he stepped next to her as he said, “I hope that you appreciate my sensitivity in trying to help you in your moment of need---in taking away some of the burning that those baaaaad men put inside you.”  In reality, he was getting ready to fuck her in the ass and since he planned on taking her bareback, he didn’t want this crap on him too.

“You’ve definitely got a great pair of legs and all of us here appreciate how beautiful they are.  One always needs to appreciate the finer things in life.  But you see, the thing is---word has come down,” he continued as he ran his hands up and down the outsides of her thighs before he cupped her buttocks in his hands, “of your inability to appreciate the pleasure that a man can bring you in a certain way.  It seems that you have learned to endure when you should be enjoying, you’re groaning and grunting when you should be singing your Master’s praises to heaven.”

“It’s not right,” he said, “that a beautiful woman like you should refuse to participate fully in what can be so gratifying an experience.  You need to learn to enjoy this with no reservations; to take part with joy and thanksgiving in your heart.  We’ll help you.”  Along with chuckles of agreement from the men, Victoria heard the zzzzzppp as their leader undid his pants and dropped them down around his ankles.  

Picture the slow majestic movement of a massive ship as it is berthed at a pier or the irresistible force represented by a locomotive gaining speed as it pulls a long line of fully laden cars.

He spread Victoria’s cheeks and opened her up with his hands.  Then he guided himself into her ass and stood for a second with only the first inch of his cock inside her.  With this move, he forced a small groan from her as she exhaled into the felt of the table top.  Then he put his hands lightly on her hips to maintain his balance and slowly leaned forward on his toes.  The men watched as his lubricated cock overpowered her body’s defenses, slowly and majestically disappearing from sight inside of her.

This is how he took Victoria.  Not quickly as a knife might pierce her vitals, but slowly, irresistibly and implacably, as if with a blunt, dull massive club.  Although to her it took forever for him to finish, in reality his entrance was soon completed and she was totally his.  His reward was her softly drawn out groaning cry which let him know that he had successfully filled her.  As his groin nestled up against her ass, he felt the lace at the top of her stockings rubbing against the front of his thighs.  He was now nestled up against her rear and he leaned forward onto her back to first lick her left ear before he whispered into it, “Give me what I want or tonight we’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”  

“Give me your brown sugar now, bitch.  I want it now!”  Then he leaned back and looked at the left side of her face as her head was pushed into the table top.  Her left eye was sparkling with unshed tears; he couldn’t see the other side of her face but knew that there too she would be fighting tears.  He knew that he’d take this picture and this set of physical sensations with him to his grave.

He’d forced himself into me and then he wanted me to make him feel good too.  Everything about me hurt.  The pain was mainly centered around the new messages radiating out from my rear.  But my bladder hurt and my feet hurt, everything hurt.  But I tried, God help me I tried to please him.  I pushed my hips back into him and rotated them a little.  But it wasn’t enough I guess.  Because he raised himself up on his tiptoes to change the angle of his penetration and suddenly his presence inside me felt like a knife tearing and ripping at my flesh.  With this one move, he tried to rend me in half as he tore my rectum.  I tried to raise myself too to relieve the pressure on my anus, but his weight on my hips and back kept me pinned.  I cried out again and again as he did this to me, but all he did was laugh.  

He was buried inside Victoria and she was tight around his erection.  Everything about her was exquisite.  Her hole was warm and everything was perfectly lubricated as he took his time slowly attaining full penetration time and time again.  Every time he went up on his toes, the muscles of her asshole would grab at him, trying to immobilize his cock.  God, it felt wonderful as he drilled her.  His wife never let him do this to her and he resented it; he enjoyed taking out his frustrations with his wife on a hot little whore like this teenaged American bitch.

Finally, he noticed that his cock had begun to feel a little warm and he realized that his man hadn’t gotten all of the crčme out of her rectum, so he sped up a little and soon he came inside her.  He stood there for a minute after he’d cum and just concentrated on memorizing how good it felt to have a beautiful woman like this take it in the ass from him.  Finally, he grew so small that he slid out of her no matter what he tried to do and he knew that it was time to pass her on to the others.

At his nod, the two men that had been holding me pulled me upright, escorted me over to a man sitting on one of the couches and then forced me to my knees on a rug in front of him.  He unzipped his pants and pulled his flaccid penis out, telling me to start sucking, “and if I bit him, he'd knock my teeth out and then face fuck me anyway!”  The two men pushed me forward and the man in front of me ground his soft, flabby cock against my face and lips.  

Still hidden in that small distant place in my mind and not yet having fully recovered mentally from being anally raped, I didn’t understand at first what he was saying.  When I tentatively opened my mouth to him, he began to get harder without me doing any sucking.  I shook my head a little, but eventually was able to get my hands up and grasp his penis.  Assuming a position that I had by now memorized, I leaned into him and fully took him into my mouth.  He immediately began to get hard as I began working him, but suddenly someone grabbed my hair from in back and forced my face forward completely into the man’s groin.  This other person wouldn’t let my head come back and I found that I couldn’t breathe with his cock filling my mouth and my nose smashed into his belly.

Pushing back with my hands on the man’s knees, I was finally able to get enough room between my face and his groin to enable me to breathe again.  But with the seated man using two full handfuls of my hair to pull my head back down on him and another man pushing my head from the back, I found myself being shoved onto and pulled off of his rod until my lipstick left a thin glaze of color on his erection from tip to root.  I was still too stunned to be doing much sucking on him.  But that seemed to okay to him, because I guess that all he wanted was somewhere to put himself inside me and he’d do the rest.

I knew that these men could do anything they wanted to me and that I wouldn’t be able to stop them.  I’d finally wanted to cooperate, but like the driver and the two men with him, that didn’t matter to these men.  I think that it was my karma that these things were happening to me only after I’d realized that I couldn’t win.  

My only hope, my only defense was to do exactly what they demanded and hope that they didn’t hurt me too badly.  Even though I had previously shut it down, that small part of my conscious mind that had acted like a third eye when I had been subtly resisting the men on the boat was critical to my safety as I tried to go along with these men tonight and give them everything they wanted.  I felt as if I stood on the edge of a mental crevasse and these men were trying to push me over the edge.  I tried to prepare myself for what they would do.  

Finally, the head of his penis lodged at the entrance to her throat and he felt her gag on him---with her face impaled on his cock like it was, her gagging motion actually felt kind of good to him.  Even as she retched and involuntarily tried to pull her head back, he still saw her lips inadvertently close over his erection.  The moves that she made as she hunched her shoulders and gagged on his erection felt great and when they next pulled her head back, he could see a nice heavy ring of red from her lipstick right at the base of his cock.  Eventually, they pushed her head hard enough onto him that his cock slammed past her gag reflex and down her throat in a way that didn’t allow her to breathe.  They then held her head immobile with his cock totally buried in her mouth while they had a short conversation.

“I love the way she stretches her lips stretch around my cock,” he purred in contentment.  “But I think you’re right though, she needs a lot of practice.”  Then grabbing a handful of hair by each of her ears, he began to fiercely fuck her in the face.  It went on and on, and everyone could hear it---the sound of her forehead slapping against his belly was mirrored by her grunts as he forced himself into her; his balls making a soft slapping sound on her chin matched by the deep gagging sounds from her throat.  

My nose was pressed against his belly when he finally achieved release in my mouth.  He was deep in the back of my throat and wouldn’t let me come back up for air, so I was forced to swallow it.  A month ago I would have died if someone done this to me, but now this didn’t seem to bother me as much anymore.  I hated to think that I was getting used to giving blowjobs to any man that wanted one and to then swallow his cum, but I was.  

He then pulled out a little and continued cumming in my mouth; it seemed like he’d never stop.  I had cum dribbling out of the side of my mouth in long white strings, it hung from my chin and spilled onto my chest and blouse.  When he finally pulled out of me, I began coughing and even brought up a little cum that had been spent deep in my throat, but which I had not yet swallowed.  

They were pigs, but it didn’t matter to me.  I was safe from them here deep inside my mind.  As long as I could watch from a distance, they might take my body, but they’d never have the real me.  During my time on that floating hell, I had finally found that you could do this if you tried hard enough.  You just tucked the unwanted thoughts and deeds of others deep into some backwater recess of your mind until the normal clutter of your life obscured it, and then you pretended that it wasn’t there.  I was good at this now.  I needed to be good at this because even if I was cooperating now, I still needed to somehow keep my sanity and this was the best way I’d found.

For the last month, I’d been using my own special places for hiding things; dark little crevasses in my soul where one might tuck an experience or even a whole relationship, so that it never saw the light of day again.  This was my life now; I now knew that there was no savior for me, no white knight, no one to deliver me from the life of being a whore that my new Master had planned for me.  

At nineteen, I also had finally faced myself and found that I wasn’t really a strong person; certainly not tough enough to last for long in a life like this.  I wanted to die rather than provide sexual release for untold men as I was sold from one owner to another.  I hoped that I still had too much decency in me to survive.  I felt that a life like this would soon kill any remaining spark of goodness within me; I knew that I would be dead within a year.  But somehow that was okay too, because in the end it was only family that mattered, and because I was willing to sacrifice myself, my family was safe.  I’d kept them safe.

 

Victoria was still on her knees coughing when two men grabbed her arms, pulled her to her feet and dragged her towards the pool table in the center of the room.  Oddly, as if she might be a danger to them, one of the men kept her in a wrist lock as they marched her back to the rest of the men, where willing hands picked her up and laid her on her back on the table.  There was a man holding each wrist and another man holding each shapely ankle. 

 

For some reason, this snapped me out of my funk and back to my current reality.  I was scared, helpless, vulnerable and totally exposed.  I begged them to let me go, but they just looked at me and laughed.  While my arms were held tightly by my sides, my legs were pulled widely apart and my skirt then lifted up around my waist.  At the same time, my blouse was ripped open, sending buttons flying everywhere and exposing my breasts for all to view.  Suddenly, and surprising even me, after all that the men had done to me this awful night, fear metamorphosed into a blazing rage; I began screaming my anger at them and struggling in earnest, throwing myself back and forth in a final attempt to free myself. 

 

The leader of the men grabbed my hair and forced me to look at him.  He’d taken what he wanted from me so no longer felt the need to pretend to any goodness.  He looked directly into my eyes for a few moments before he said, “Bitch, this is what you are.  We’re not stopping for anything.  You’re a piece of ass now and you’re going to get passed around like a cheap stock tip.  These men have been waiting for you for weeks, so why would we stop now?”  He then slapped me once, hard enough to stun me and I felt him walk away from me as I lay motionless on the table.

 

The men were now lined up to have their turns with me.  I’d already been sodomized by the leader and I guess that he’d indulged in his appetite for helpless women enough for now, so he pointed to who got to get up on the table with me.  “Snakedriver,” he said, “go ahead.  I want to see what this bitch’s got.”

 

I had finally regained some sense after being slapped so hard.  Even though it embarrassed me, I had to ask them; “Please,” I begged, “please for the sake of God, let me go to the bathroom.  Please.”

 

Laughing, the men all looked at each other and agreed that they didn’t want me pissing all over the top of the pool table, so two of them helped me down and into the bathroom.  I quickly sat down on the toilet and with my blouse hanging open, was able let loose with a gushing torrent; I had been well taught in the last month to ignore any false modesty where bodily functions were concerned.  Finished, the men allowed me wipe quickly and then dragged me back out and onto the table top.

 

In a supreme act of betrayal, all of the men had been told about Jorge’s discovery of Victoria’s sexual weakness.  Telling the others to hold her tight, the first man quickly flipped her skirt up around her waist and reached between her legs to begin single mindedly manipulating her genital area, focusing mainly on her clitoris.  She’d recovered from the blow to the head but instead of fighting against these men, she laid there unresisting with her legs spread wide for them as they masturbated her.  Another man soon brought out a small vibrator and between the two, after a couple of minutes of being manipulated, Victoria felt herself begin to respond in spite of herself.

 

She tried to ignore what they did to her, but the man worked at her tiny, hidden button of flesh, manipulating it with his fingers and the vibrator.  Finally, her clit was engorged, filled with blood and standing erect as if it was her own small penis.  At this point, another man reached over and pulled a small silver alligator clip on a thin silver chain out of his pocket.  Without a word to her, he isolated her clit with his forefinger and thumb, and then attached the strong jaws of the clip to her engorged clit and ran the chain between her knees to the foot of the table.  Not expecting this, Victoria couldn’t stop herself from screaming as he clamped it onto her.  Ignoring her, he instead looked at the man who was ready to mount her and nodded his head.  Snakedriver was definitely ready for her, his erection pointing to the room’s ceiling.  He climbed up on the table and ignored her now weaker struggles as he got on his knees between her widely stretched thighs.

 

I knew what was coming, but couldn’t do anything about it.  I was finally beginning to come out of the trance I’d been in every since I’d arrived here.  The anal burn was finally going away and the only thing really hurting right now were my hips and the insides of my thighs due to my legs being stretched apart almost to the breaking point.  I knew that I had a gaping need between my legs that needed to be filled, but I refused to allow myself the pleasure of responding to their attempts at enticing me out of my self-imposed shell of safety.

 

First one man and then a second had worked on my clitoris and it responded like I knew it would, like it always did.  I knew then too that Jorge had betrayed me and told these men of his discovery.  If possible, the men holding my ankles pulled my legs even further apart and a man leaned over my belly and hips for a second, but I couldn’t see what he was doing.  I tried to raise my head to watch him when suddenly there was a crushing, mashing pain in my clit and I shrieked my surprise and my pain.  I felt like my body had fragmented and the two main parts were connected only by this white hot, steel-hard point of pain between my legs.  When the man stood up again, I saw him lead a small chain back from between my thighs to the foot of the table.  God, it hurt!

 

I struggled as best I could, begging them to let me go.  Finally, I watched the one they called Snakedriver get on his knees between my legs, grab his cock and guide it into the opening of my pussy.  Whimpering with pain, I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him; I didn’t want to see the look of satisfaction on his face as he took me.  I felt him split my lips with the blunt, shiny, dark purple head of his erection and he began his move to possess me.  Finally filled after a couple of tentative thrusts, I could soon tell that I had become wet and that he was now filling me, sliding wetly and smoothly into me up to his nutsack.  The men continued to hold me immobilized as I lay beneath the one they called Snakedriver; I still did my best to refuse to cooperate with my rapist. 

 

This was a man and therefore my master, but he was not my new Master.  I couldn’t conceive of my Master wanting me defiled like this before he’d been with me first himself.  However, according the pigs on me now, this was what he wanted.  But in the end, it didn’t matter to me because it wasn’t a contest anymore.  My body would eventually react to these pigs as they desired, but it would be just another in a long line of rapes.  I would never cooperate with them.  It wouldn’t change the ‘me’ that these base, vile men could never begin to appreciate.  The ‘me’ that living a life like this would soon kill. 

 

At the same time, the white hot pain that had centered between my legs seemed changed as I was filled by the man they called Snakedriver.  It seemed to expand, enveloping my whole body, but I was still contained within the bubble it caused.  My body wanted to respond to this man and the pain, both of which seemed coupled in my mind now, but I wouldn’t allow the usage of me like this.

 

The leader watched Snakedriver fuck Victoria and get no response; from this, he knew that the men on the boat had been right.  Nodding to the man with the silver chain, he started the teenager on her way to hell.  The man with the chain began to give soft tugs on the chain connected to M’s genitals.  After each tug, he would keep a gentle pressure on the chain for a second, before he released it, ensuring that she would always be feeling some sort of pulling pressure on her genitals.  And then he would start the whole process all over again.  He seemed to be timing his tugs to the thrusts of the man fucking M.  Almost immediately, they saw a change in the new whore.

 

I felt the gentle tugs that were perfectly synchronized with the pig’s thrusts into me and knew for sure that I’d been betrayed by the one man that I thought I might be able to trust on the boat.  I cried out in dread of what would happen to me if these men were successful and also tried to move in a way that would stop the pulls on my womanhood, but it was to no avail.  As the tugs continued and I felt my vagina being filled by a man plunging into me in pile driver slams, I felt too the carnal side of my nature tentatively come to the edge of the light, as if lured into a fight to the death with the tiny objective and civilized part of my mind that still remained to defend what was left of the real ‘me’. 

 

The animal side of me wanted to surrender forever to the pleasure of the moment, to never again worry about what I had been taught as a child.  If it felt good and no one was hurt, then it was what I should do.  Fighting it was the other side of me that my mother and father had spent years nurturing inside me.  Delay your gratification, remember who you are, don’t embarrass yourself or your family, save yourself for your husband, eat your peas.

 

I threw my head from side to side, crying out for them to stop.  I begged them, “Oh God.  Please not this; please don’t do this to me.”

 

But I couldn’t say whether I meant the man on top or the man tugging at the foot of the table.  In any case, they were in control, not me, and both men continued what they were doing.  Within minutes of being thrown on the table, I was beginning to react to the men as they wanted.  I promised to be good and not fight them if they’d just let go of me, but no one believed me. 

 

Suddenly, it seemed like the ‘I’ that I had known for nineteen years was gone and she’d been replaced by a new woman now lying on the table.  I felt so relieved to give out a loud scream on purpose, but I knew that it didn’t sound like it was of either pain or anger.  I realized that I was in fear, fear of what might happen and fear of what I might do.  The race between my animal passion and my conscious ego took an eternity to be run and a moment to complete.  I felt that tiny spark that controlled my civilized behavior move closer to the light, and closer again, and finally closer one more time; soon it was illuminated and I looked at myself in detail---and then like that, it was gone---snuffed out by the animal needs which now controlled my every move.

 

I felt the man on me slowly withdrew his rigid cock until only the engorged purple head was still inside me, then he slammed forward again in one massive thrust, sending his engorged dick back in and filling me to my depths.  God, I wanted more.  I didn’t want more, I HAD to HAVE more of him.

 

I couldn’t help myself.  I tried, but just couldn’t.  I gasped when his groin slammed into my mound and I tried to bite his ear.  The man softly tugging on my clit was driving me crazy!  He had to stop, he must stop.  He’d better never stop!  In and out the man on top of me moved, keeping a slow, careful rhythm, obviously enjoying the feel of my tight flesh grabbing his erection; enjoying my hips arching to meet his thrusts and straining against the men holding my ankles, trying to keep his meat buried inside me.

 

After what seemed like an eternity to me, he pulled back for one last push.  I didn’t want to and my mind ordered me stop, but my body did its best to thrust my hips up to meet him.  Almost pulling out of me, the man grunted and rammed forward with all his strength.  Just at that moment, the man at my feet gave a long hard steady pull on my clit.  I felt my head snap back hard against the table and I heard myself give a long muffled scream of pure pleasure.  With the insides of my upper thighs, I felt the man inside me tighten his ass and shove into to me several more times.  But all I was really paying attention to was the continuous tugging on my clit; and finally I felt a firebomb of burning hot semen injected deep inside my belly.  The man on top of me shuddered and grunted, and the scalding sperm continued to shoot into my pussy; he’d filled me with his pleasure as the men on the boat had always done.

He then withdrew his dick.  I knew that everyone was watching me, watching how I reacted, watching the lips of my dark red, blood engorged pussy cling to his cock as he pulled out.  They saw the alligator clamp cruelly fixed to my erect button of flesh.  But that didn’t matter to them, for another man quickly jumped on the table when the first man got off of me.  With one move of his hips, he entered my wet vagina.  This time, I swore that I could feel my vagina being slowly stretched and filled with his enormously thick cock.  He was really big around and I knew that my facial expression must be one of agony; I felt like he was tearing me apart with his erection.  

At the same time, my clit kept being abused by the man below: tug, tug, tug.  The sensations there were tremendous---a brilliant crystalline point of anguish/pleasure in the distance which seemed to burn brighter and brighter the more the man pulled.  The worst part was that it truly wasn’t pain anymore, but rather it had gone from something that had caused me intense suffering to something that profoundly stimulated and excited me.  I had first desired and now finally needed that erotic touch of the cold metal clamp between my legs.

 

From a distance, I heard the man on top of me ask, “You like it darling, don’t you?”  I ignored his question, but not his driving cock.  Soon, he asked me again, “You like it, don’t you, you bitch?” 

 

To my horror I heard myself agree with him softly, “Yesssss.”  At the same time, I knew that I had to make one last feeble try to not give in to the animal pleasure.  “Please,” I begged softly, “don’t do this to me.”

 

He looked at her lying beneath him, first agreeing that she liked getting fucked by him and in the next breathe she was begging him to stop.  He was immediately contemptuous of her and he let the little cock teaser know this.  His belly and hips and ass shook as he slammed his cock into her again and again as hard as he could.  At the same time, he shouted, “The only fucking thing you get to beg for is more cock buried inside you, you bitch.  You come in here dressed like a fucking whore, a cheap looking cock-sucking cunt and you want us to stop?  Fuck you, you slut!  Who do you think you’re kidding?  You’ll fuck and suck every man here until none of us get it up anymore.  You’re a slut and you’ll prove it to every one of us tonight."

 

Victoria started to say something in protest and he interrupted, “Shut up, you cock-sucking, ass-fucked bitch.  There’re a lot of men that are going to fuck you tonight, so shut up.”  With that, he started pumping her for real.  The man below kept tugging on her clit and finally Victoria exploded.

 

I groaned in sheer pleasure and with my eyes closed and head moving from side to side, I begged, “Don’t….please.  Deeper.”  Tug.  “Please.”  Tug.  “Deeper.”  Tug.  The man on me looked down in amazement and almost stopped driving into me.  Tug.

 

Suddenly, my eyes flew open and I moaned, “Yes.  Fuck me.  You bastard, you wanted to fuck me----so fuck me now.  You ugly bastard, I need your cock bad.”  Tug. “Oh yes, right there---deeper---deeper, now fuck me hard, please.  Hard, HARD!!!”  Tug.

 

He smiled down at me and replied, “You are such a slut, you bitch.  You know you’re a cunt, right?”  He nodded at the men holding my arms and ankles and they let go of me.

 

Tug.  Tug.  I couldn’t help myself.  “Stick that beautiful cock in my pussy.  Fuck me.  Oh God, oh God.  FUCK MEEE HEREEEEE!”  Tug.

 

They stood around the table and watched my first truly uncontrolled climax with a man that night as my ass clenched, my stomach muscles tightened and my legs stiffened.  I slammed my hands on the table repeatedly and whipped my head back and forth like a woman possessed, while my body spasmed and jerked about and my legs intertwined uncontrollably with his.  Finally, I drew long gouges of flesh out of his back with my nails as my vagina clenched around his cock and seemed to draw more of him inside me.  He howled in pain, but never stopped what he was doing.  My ankles were crossed over his lower back now as we struggled in our age-old embrace, and then he was done; but there were more men waiting.

 

Men came in me and got off and other men got on me.  They’d long ago let go of me because I was cooperating fully with them now.  They knew that I was now willing to take care of ALL their needs.  I had one man inside me, my face was turned to the side as I sucked off a second and I was jerking off a third with my hands.  I heard them ask me questions as if from a distance.  I didn’t care what I did or said right now, it was almost like I was on drugs.  I would hear them and I’d take the dick out of my mouth long enough to answer them and then put it back in.

 

The next man to take me had a giant cock and I didn’t even remember if he’d fucked me yet or not.  Tug, tug.  I grabbed his erection and said, “Oh, don’t stop.  Don’t ever stop.  Please fill me with that glorious piece of meat.”  I looked at the man who now had his penis buried in my mouth.  I took him out of my mouth long enough to smile at him and murmur, “I’m a little cocksucker,” and then resumed working on him.

 

“GIVE ME MORE!!!” I demanded of the man between my legs.  Tug.  Lying between my thighs, he hunched his hips and then drove into me.  My head snapped back and I knew that my mouth gaped wide open with his first move; one of the men standing to the side took advantage of me at that moment and filled my mouth again as it opened, but I didn’t care.  The pleasure was so intense that my eyes gave a quick flicker as they attempted to roll back in my sockets.

 

“Squeeze me with your pussy, it’ll feel even better for you; it’ll feel real good for you,” he demanded of me.

 

Tug.  I babbled in ecstasy, “You’re HUGE!  I can do it.  I can squeeze my pussy.  My cunt, it squeezes….good.  It squeezes, oh….so….good.”

“That’s right.  Oh, you fucking slut.  Squeeze me you bitch,” he demanded.  “That’s right, squeeze.  Now you fucking whore, if you want more, call yourself a whore.  NOW!” 

Tug.  “I’m a whore.”  Tug, tug.  “Fuck me, I’m a whore.”  Tug.  “Don’t stop.  I’m a whore.  I need to be fucked…..”  Tug.  “…..by you.”

The men standing around laughed.  Someone else said, “You’re a cock-sucking slut bitch and you’ll fuck any man here just to empty him, won’t you.  You’ll fuck anything as long as its got a piece of meat to stick inside you.   Right?”

I didn’t care what I said, words had no meaning to me at this point. 

 

Tug.  “I’m a fucking slut and a whore.  Yes, I’m a slut.  Fuck me you bastards.”  Tug.  “You’re too slow.  Fuck me and cum in me, cum in my pussy.  Just fuck me!  I’m a cock-sucking slut that loves to be fucked.  Somebody DO ME!!!”

 

Somebody else grabbed my face and made me look at them as they asked me, “Deep down inside, you’ve always known you’re a slut—haven’t you?  This excites you---you don’t get to make any choices here, so you’re not responsible either---you get all of the pleasure and none of the guilt; you like having guys fuck you in the pussy and cum in your ass and all over your face, don’t you?” 

 

He shook my face and said, “Answer, you whore.”

 

“Yes,” I replied.  “I’m a whore and a slut.  I’m everything you said.  I love having cocks inside me.  I can’t help it, I love it.”  Tug.  “Fuck me.”  Tug.  “Fuck my cunt.  Fuck me in the ass.  Fuck my mouth.  Just fuck me.”  Tug.  Tug.

 

When the man now riding me was finally ready to blow his first load, he pulled out of me, spread his knees on either side of my chest and jerked off, eventually shooting his sperm all over my face and my tits; then he used my long blonde hair to wipe off his slippery wet cock. 

 

The remaining men all took their turns and did much the same.  Some came in me and others on me.  One man rolled me over and took me in the ass again.  I pleaded for more and cursed them for not having enough to satisfy me.  At the end, when the alligator clamp was accidentally pulled off once, I begged them to put it back on me.  The sense of anticipation was wonderful and the sharp crushing pain between my legs as it was re-applied had finally turned into a keenly intense, achingly beautiful feeling which drove my sexual need more than anything I had ever experienced. 

 

I’d tried to fight it in the beginning, but that had lasted for just the slightest time.  I now finally was experiencing what my recruiters had been telling me all along---that my road to freedom lay in willingly giving control to someone else; in not only accepting the pain that others brought me, but in taking it into me; in understanding the ‘rightness’ of them doing this to me, in somehow making it a necessary part of me. 

 

When everyone had taken me at least once, it started over and became more inventive.  I loved it and finally, for the first time in my life, never felt the least inhibited.  Most of the evening was a blur, a blur of pain enjoyed and animal sex; I had no real idea about much of what I had done with these men.

 

At the end, I felt like the monsoon; hot and wet and sticky as the Central American jungle around me.  When the last man was finally drained of all fluids, my hair, my face and my chest were completed covered in semen.  It ran off of my swollen breasts in rivers and sticky strings onto my ribs and then the table.  It ran in globs down the sides of my face, into my ears and onto my neck.  My hair was a darker blonde now because it was matted, sticky and wet from all the cum that had been wiped on it.  My lipstick was smeared all over my mouth and my eyelashes had globs of drying sperm on them.  My eyes were almost glued shut from sticky and drying cum.  There were pools and rivers of sperm on my lower stomach, pussy and on the insides of my thighs.  My ass was sore and draining semen onto the table as I laid there.  I was sore all over.  My clitoris and labia were especially sore, as were the walls of my vagina.  I’d never gone through anything like this before. 

 

On the other hand, as I listened to them talk, neither had the men.

 

Now that it was over, I laid on my back on the table with my eyes closed.  I was breathing slowly and trying to collect my thoughts.  The men were all laughing and talking about what a good time they’d had with me and how they’d like to do me again tomorrow evening.  They were laughing about what a whore I was and how lucky I was that they’d been there.  Every now and then one of the men would reach over and grope me again.  I didn’t react to this, but just let it go.  Especially since I was so nasty that none of them really wanted to touch me for long. 

 

Besides, in a way I felt a little pity for them.  They had perhaps enjoyed themselves once or twice with me.  I, on the other hand, had enjoyed each and every one of them multiple times.  It just didn’t seem fair now, how limited their experiences were compared to what I had just enjoyed.

 

I laid on the table for almost twenty minutes.  My body felt warm and good and tingly all over; but I soon knew that I must be coming down from my endorphin high.  I had started to feel a little regret at my actions and within minutes after that I was feeling ever more guilt.  There was no doubt in my mind now, I knew for certain that I belonged here---I was property that was owned by a man.  I knew that I was another man’s whore, to be given to other men as my Master pleased.  I had known that I was going to be raped as soon as I’d walked into the room.  I wasn’t even sure that it had been rape since I knew in my heart that after they’d started, I had cooperated in every way with them.  God Victoria, I thought to myself, if you were going to be a whore, at least you could have been a whore with a little class.

 

I thought back to what I’d said to them once I’d been clamped; how I’d babbled and incited them, prompting them, always promising them more.  I’d always believed that a person’s true character comes through in times of emergency, and I now knew that my true character had been hidden all those years---I was nothing more than a base slut that had had a little luck in being raised by a good family. 

 

Suddenly I was completely humiliated and disgusted with myself.  No, actually self-hatred was a better description for how I felt right now.  I accepted that I was my Master’s whore now.  And as his whore I knew that I had to service any man that he commanded, but I hadn’t needed to lose control in the way I did.  But at the same time, with what they’d been doing to me I knew that there had been no way that I could have avoided it either.  But that still didn’t stop the guilt.  I felt that I could never again claim to be my father’s daughter because of what I’d done with these men.  I wanted to die.

 

I’d dressed like a slut and acted like a whore without quality, and I had deserved to be treated like one.  It wasn’t the men’s fault, it was all mine.  All they’d done was take advantage of what they’d somehow known I’d been subconsciously offering; I knew that if there was any guilt here for what had happened this evening, it was all on me.  Bossman had been right, there were consequences for actions.  I knew at that moment too that Jorge, Enrique and even The Evil One had been right—they’d known things about me that I hadn’t even known about myself.

I lay on the table with one knee raised and I thought I would vomit.  I was the lowest of the low; these men were uneducated trash and yet I’d humiliated myself, reveling in laying in the gutter with them.  I had no right to expect anything from my new Master other than to be used as the main attraction at low-class gangbangs.  I closed my eyes and put my arm over my eyes and began softly sobbing like I was a child again.  I hated it—my head was so fucked up!

 

The leader of the men was smoking a cigar when he walked up to me as I lay on the table, “Get off the table and get cleaned up.  We’ve got a little while before we have to go back to our wives, so get off the table while we finish playing cards.  Get up whore, NOW.”

 

Finally, I stopped crying and with a few sniffles, I slowly and painfully crawled off of the table.  No one offered to help me and since I was still wearing my four inch stiletto ‘fuck-me’ heels, I wobbled precariously for a moment on shaky legs before being able to head towards the bathroom.  My lower back hurt from lying for hours on the flat table with the men’s weight on me and I found it difficult to move.  I went in and stopped just inside the door, resting for a second against the doorjamb with my eyes closed.  Then I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and didn’t like at all what I saw—I didn’t see a beautiful teenage girl with her life ahead of her; instead I saw a slutty whore that had just participated in a full-on gangbang and who had gloried in being dragged down to wallow in the most base levels a decent woman could ever pray to avoid.

 

I leaned over the sink and ran some water into my mouth and rinsed it out.  I washed my face and ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to bring back a little order.  I didn’t have any makeup with me or a hairbrush, so I did the best that I could under the circumstances. 

 

My blouse was a shambles with all of the buttons gone and my stockings had runs in them.  My short navy skirt was still in one piece, but was stained a semi-transparent white all over the front from where men had cum on me.  With what little dignity I had remaining, I looked at myself in the mirror again; when I saw what I looked like after my best attempts at grooming, I burst into tears again.  I looked like a whore that had been beaten and ridden hard.  I looked like a whore that had just voluntarily pleasured eight men multiple times with every opening in her body.  I thought I would vomit.

 

I heard the men start calling on me to come out, but I ran some water onto a small washcloth and washed my chest and the insides of my thighs, and then I tenderly cleaned my rear end of the semen that was draining out of it.  Finally, I began trying to clean the semen stains from my skirt and my wreck of a blouse.  Even though I had a few small runs in my hose, after tightening my stockings and tucking my blouse into the top of my skirt to keep it closed over my breasts, I looked a little more presentable.  I slowly walked back out into the game room. 

 

There was a soft Latin beat playing on a radio and the lighting was subdued except for over the table.  Without even looking at me, the leader said, “Dance.  Go ahead.  Start dancing for us, you cheap bitch.”

 

I looked at him in silence for a moment and then started to ask him what he wanted me to do, when he interrupted me with, “Shut up and dance, bitch.”  I recognized a peremptory command from my temporary Master, so even though I could barely walk, without another word I slowly began to sway around the room.  Every now and then I would raise my arms over my and close my eyes.  Within a few minutes, I was safe again, cocooned in a world of my own imagination. 

 

They didn’t bother me and I ignored them as I moved, refusing to meet their knowing eyes or listen to their mocking comments; instead I imagined that I was safely back in my bedroom in my parent’s house.  My back and feet hurt, and my legs were exhausted from fucking these men, but I danced for over thirty minutes before the men finally finished their game and started leaving---at this point, I was dancing for myself and not for the pigs.  Although tired and sore, I was still swaying my way around the room as the last man left. 

 

Finally, it registered that there was no one left in the room and I stopped dancing.  I looked around and then slowly walked over to a couch and sat down.  I pulled my knees up under me as I looked at the table in the center of the room and slowly, tears began to leak from my eyes.  After a moment, I raised my chin and made myself stop crying.  Then, after another moment, I wiped my tears away, laid my head down and closed my eyes in an attempt to sleep.  God, I was so tired, so awful tired of being abused and hurt and used by men.  I just wanted it all to end.  Psychologically bruised, physically and emotionally exhausted, I finally fell into a deep sleep.  

***

I awoke in the morning gasping in pain.  My whole body was sore but it was the insides of my thighs and my vagina and my rear end that were the worst.  I had vague memories of lying on a couch, wrapping my wet, cum soaked clothing around me and falling into an exhausted sleep; of someone picking me up and carrying me; of hands cleaning me and somehow I had ended in a bed with clean sheets and wearing clean cotton panties and a T-shirt.

 

I lay on my side in the bed with my knees drawn up to my chest.  A sheet and thin blanket were pulled over my head as if they could protect me from the monsters that I now knew existed in my world.  The darkness this caused shielded me from danger; I was afraid---afraid of what my future held, afraid of who held me and afraid of how I might respond to the demands he might make. 

 

Within thirty minutes of my awaking, a soft knock on the door startled me.  I didn’t move and after a minute, the knock came again.  Finally, I got out of bed and walked stiffly over thick carpeting to the door.  It was locked from my side; I unlocked it and opened it enough to peek through the crack.  Georges stood there waiting patiently. I opened the door a little wider, but still hid behind it. 

 

Seeing my face peeking around the door Georges said, “Breakfast is ready when you are.  The dining room is straight down this hall and to your left.”  Pointing with his head to inside my room, he said, “There is a bathroom there and clothing can be found in the closet.”  With that, he nodded his head and departed. 

 

There had been nothing in his voice that told me he thought less of me because of last night, no overt acknowledgement of my whorish acts.  Perhaps he didn’t know?  Perhaps he wouldn’t find out?  I later understood that very little escaped Georges.  Even later, I finally realized that he also was one of the very rare people that never judged a person if he hadn’t gone through the same experiences.  He was always a gentleman in this and never let me down.

 

Now awake and up, I began to explore the bedroom in a halting fashion as my muscles worked out the soreness from last night.  The bed was massive and must have been custom-made.  It was larger than a normal king-sized bed and the mattress was incredibly comfortable.  The sheets were of silky feeling Egyptian cotton with at least a 600 thread count.  There was a well lit make-up table in the corner and two comfortable looking over-stuffed chairs.  Located at the foot of the bed, a small upholstered bench sat next to a massive metal-strapped trunk made out of shining dark teak wood.  I later found out that the trunk had been used aboard sailing ships a hundred and fifty years ago in the silk trade between Oman and India.

 

While the bedroom was furnished in more of a comfortable old-world fashion, the bathroom was modern with shining burgundy and dark gray tile and gleaming chrome fixtures.  Drawers on the side of two sink vanity held everything I would ever need; toothbrushes still in the wrappers, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, and razors.  There were also feminine products, although I knew that I wouldn’t be needing tampons for at least another eight months.

 

From here I slowly walked over to two doors built into the wall.  Opening them revealed a large walk-in closet filled with various types of clothing, all my size.  Sexy skirts and blouses and dresses were side by side with more normal jackets and pant suits and various types of tops all hung from racks by the wall.  One side had numerous built-in drawers; and when opened these revealed folded jeans, athletic wear, underwear, socks and pantyhose.  The largest drawers at the bottom held all of my lingerie from the boat, including the stockings that I’d brought with me.

 

Opposite the drawers, rows of shoes stood in straight lines.  They included various flats and comfortable walking shoes, as well as several pairs of tennis and running shoes.  All of the high heels that I’d been wearing for the last thirty days (plus many others that I had never before seen) were also included at one end.  An involuntary shudder ran through my body as I saw them.

 

Getting ready to eat took me over an hour and a half as I knew that I had to shower and shampoo my hair before I did anything else.  I was finally able let my hair dry naturally, because I hated the way that blow driers dried my hair out.  Eventually my makeup was on and I was ready.  Finally, I put on a pair of athletic shorts, a sports halter under a thin cotton top and a pair of ankle socks with workout shoes.  I’d tucked my nipple chain under the sports bra and had put my slave collar on last.  The shining black leather clashed a little with my outfit, but I thought to myself, “What the hell!”

 

I’d been left with no personal possessions after my kidnapping other than the sexy black dress I’d been wearing when taken by the men, so leaving the room unlocked as I went to eat presented no problems.  Following his directions, I had no difficulty in locating the small nook which had apparently been set for me several hours ago.  As soon as I sat down, a young Hispanic girl came up and offered me coffee and asked what I wanted for breakfast.  Ordering a small omelet and dry toast, I ate about half and was full. 

 

Almost as if on command, as I lowered my fork for the last time Georges appeared and offered to show me ‘The Master’s’ house.  Thanking him, I stood up and followed him out into the main area.  It took over half an hour for him to show me everything, and even then, we only covered about half of the dwelling---one half was open to my explorations, but the other half was totally closed off to me and it was made clear by Georges that it would forever be off-limits to my investigations. 

 

My new Master’s house was huge.  It had a small, well lit work-out room that was immediately off of my bedroom.  The room had walls lined with mirrors and it contained numerous workout machines along with a complete set of weights.  There was a young man already in the room, but he wasn’t working out.  As soon as we walked in, he jumped up and gave me a slight bow.  Georges explained that this was the workout attendant and that he was at my service any time that I wished to use the room.  I knew that I would spend as much time here as was allowed; it would be my escape from a new world over which I had little or no control. 

 

There was another light, airy room off of mine that contained a low, wide padded couch or bed along with a couple of mats.  This Georges referred to as my ‘play’ room.  Next to this was a room in which videos and movies could be shown.

 

There was a large library/den combination done in dark wood that must have had a thousand or more books in it.  This room contained a large stone fireplace that looked like it would be the center of the household in the winter when it had a fire in it---it was definitely a room that had been decorated for or by a man.  The maid cleaning and dusting the books ignored our presence.

 

There was another small room in which there were chairs similar to what would be found in a beauty shop and a professional looking massage table.  There was another young smiling Hispanic girl here and Georges told me that I was expected here in another hour to get my hair done and to be given a full-body waxing. 

 

There was a large dining room with the center taken up by a large table that could seat at least twelve comfortably.  The walls were covered by expensive looking wallpaper, drapes and two large antique rugs.  The kitchen was a large room, painted and tiled in white and light yellow.  It contained a lot of professional looking equipment used in the preparation of food for large numbers of people at one time. 

 

Going downstairs to the first of the subterranean levels, I shuddered as Georges showed me how to get to the game room; this was where I had wound up entertaining so many men last night.  The room was now clean of anything that would have reminded me of last night’s activities.  None-the-less, I knew that I would never again enter this room voluntarily.

 

Finally, he took me to another short, but solid wooden door that was set into the stone wall of the buildings’ foundations.  The thick wooden door was locked and when Georges opened it with another large key, an unpleasant odor carried on cool moist air immediately hit my nostrils.  Georges looked at me and shook his head, saying, “I hope you never have to visit this room.” 

 

Leading me in, even before he’d found the light switch and turned on the lights, I knew that there was or at least had been a lot of pain in this room.  My skin was prickling with goose bumps and the hackles on the back of my neck were trying to rise.  When the lights were finally on, I could see that it was an extremely large, almost dungeon-like affair.  The vast space was poorly lit and its walls were made of well fitted stone, as was the floor.  The ceiling looked like it was at least ten feet high and there were several sets of pulleys set in the ceiling above what looked like pits of various types.  There were also several drains in the floor and nearby faucets from which to run hoses.

 

There were numerous kinds of large equipment here, all of it designed for one thing---to bring pain to the human body.  Full-sized wooden H and T and X frames designed to immobilize the body in various positions were located in the center, while there were various types of shackles on the walls.  There were wooden and stainless steel racks of equipment; objects designed specifically to cause injury to the body including pincers, pliers, whips, canes, steel needles of various sizes and branding irons.  Presses and nailed boxes for the foot, the hand and the penis; clamps for the breast and for the nipple, and finally, for the face---all were neatly arranged side by side.  There were leather discipline helmets and hoods of various designs and uses, all neatly hanging on the wall and each was accompanied by matching sets of wide leather ankle and wrist restraints.  There were leather restraining straps that wrapped around the body, specifically made for binding arms and legs.  On the far end, part of the wall contained a small rack of metal handcuffs and sets of chains that were used to bind a prisoner in various positions.  And finally, sitting among large electrical leads, there were numerous items that brought machine pain or electro-love.

 

On another wall there were objects d’amour, designed to show affection to the appointed one in both pleasant and not-so-pleasant ways.  Here there were various types and sizes of gags, dildos and vibrators; there were chains and rods of anal balls of various size and length; there were feather dusters and single long peacock feathers arranged among masks that would not look out of place during the Mardi Gras. 

 

I looked at Georges and shuddered.  He nodded his head in agreement and said, “The Master doesn’t like to use this room, but he has men that are trained in these arts if needed.”  Turning on his heel, he led me out of the chamber and locked it behind them.

 

Pointing to another door, Georges said, “That leads to the next level down and to storage rooms and the docks.  You do not need to see the boats at this at this time.”  With this, he led me back upstairs to the room in which I had my beauty appointment.  There, he left me with a nod of his head. 

 

Hesitantly, I walked in and looked at the same young woman that was still there.  This girl smiled and pointed at the massage table first.  Apparently, I was to get my waxing first.  Never having had one before, but having talked with friends that had had one, I basically knew what to expect.  My legs and armpits were painful, but the worst was my crotch and rear-end.  The smiling girl left a thin strip of pubic hair just above my clitoris and everything else was removed.

 

From here I was led naked and tingling to a beauty salon chair.  After giving me a towel for a wrap, the same girl trimmed my ends and then did magic with my hair.  When she was finished, I knew that I hadn’t looked this good in…….oh, a month or so!  Getting dressed again, I wandered out and finally arrived at the kitchen where I saw Georges drinking a cup of tea.  Sitting down next to him, I gazed into his eyes and began to question him. 

 

“So,” I asked, “who are you?” 

 

“I,” after looking at me for a moment, he replied with a simple dignity, “am Georges.  I run this household for the Master.”  He looked at I like I was a very dull girl that had just asked a rather stupid question.

 

“So,” I followed up, “who are the rest of the people here?”

 

Georges looked at me for a second and sighed, “You aren’t going to leave until you get some answers, are you?”

 

I didn’t say anything but just shook my head as I looked at him.

 

“You are such a young girl in so many ways.  Okay,” he said with a tone of resignation, “I’ll try to explain a few things about what goes on here.”

 

“Your Master has owned this house for many years now.  He owns much land around here and the people respect him, they love him for what he gives them.  Many people from nearby work here—they’re…servants….for want of a better word.  They’ve all worked here since they were quite young, or their parents did.  He sends these young people out into the world and pays for their training.  He then brings them back here so that they can be with their families.  Because of this, their loyalty to him is beyond question.”

 

“You on the other hand,” he looked at me impassively, “belong to the Master as does this chair or that table, or the vehicle that we have in the garage.  We do not judge him in this, he just….is.”

 

“There have been many before you,” he continued.  He looked at me with no expression on his face, “And I assume that there will be many after you.  I….try not to get to know the ones like you too well, as it makes my life more difficult.  However, make no mistake.  Even if I am not the Master’s property as you are, I am still the Master’s creature.  Do not mistake me for one that can be corrupted.”

 

I listened to Georges and felt remarkably calm for it was much as I had suspected.  From my last day on the boat to my trip here last night and my time in the game room, I’d been surrounded by men that had always had a higher loyalty to my new Master.  I felt an inner piece now as I talked with Georges because I’d finally resigned myself to being a man’s chattel, his property.  Georges had confirmed my status and let me know that while there would be people around all the time, they would be of no help to me if I should ever try to escape.

 

He looked at me, “Would you like to see the grounds?”

 

“Aren’t you afraid,” I asked, “that I might try to escape if I’m let outside?”

 

He shrugged his shoulders, “You won’t be able to get one of the boats to run, so you can’t escape by water.  You are literally tens of miles from anyplace that might give you help.  Everyone for miles in every direction works for the Master or owes him, and they already know that the he’s brought in a new young blonde girl from America.  And it’s not like you do not stand out in the crowd here---what with your looks and your hair and all.  If they find you trying to run away, whoever catches you gets to keep you…..forever.”

 

“Trust me,” he said, “after seeing you, all of the young men here will be on the lookout for you.  You would do better to cut your wrists than to chance that.  And there are still many full-blooded Indians here.  Trust me on this…you do not want to fall into their hands.”

 

With this, they both walked out through the kitchen door onto the manicured and landscaped lawn.  The lawn was huge, and completely surrounded the massive house.  The closest trees were over a hundred meters distant, and even there, the touch of my Master’s servants was obvious.  From there, they walked for over half an hour looking at various fountains and other pieces of garden art.

 

Georges finally now turned and looked at me full in the face.  “You will be meeting your new Master for the first time at dinner tonight.  You will want to take a nap and then do your best to prepare for him.  This will please him.  Go.”

 

Leaving him, I finally found my way back to my bedroom where I was able to go to sleep after laying in my bed for half an hour.  I woke from my nap and saw that I had two hours before I was expected at dinner to meet my new Master for the first time. 

 

Finally, I was ready.  I thought about yesterday and how much time I’d spent on my makeup to prepare to meet him.  This time I’d chosen a different tack; this time I’d dressed simply for my first evening with my new Master.  A sheer white blouse with a plunging neckline, no bra underneath, a short chiffon cocktail length skirt in a light print, wide belt, skin-tone stockings that exhibited my long, shapely legs to the best advantage and which were held up by a white lace garter belt and strappy white sandals with four inch stiletto heels.  My only decorations were my leather collar, a pair of silver hoop earrings that I’d found on the dresser and the loop of my nipple chain that was exposed between my cleavage.

I had not bothered to gather up my hair, but allowed the silky blonde strands to fall loosely.  I had applied the lightest possible makeup around my eyes, so that nothing would detract from their feline greenness.  Only my moist full lips were more heavily touched up than usual with a soft crimson rouge.  I’d been pleased to see myself in the mirror and especially noted how high and firm my braless breasts were.  Too, my complexion was flawless; I guess there was one thing to be said about a teenager’s raging hormones being tamed by a diet of continuous sex.  Although I didn’t feel this way on the inside, I knew that to everyone else I looked cool, flawless and devastatingly attractive.

 

Escorted by Georges, I entered the study.  The lights were on very low and a large man stood by the fireplace mantle.  It was not a cold night, but good sized pieces of wood were burning in the fireplace; the light from the fire and the lighting was such that the man stood in dark shadow.  He wore a light open shirt and slacks, and was holding what looked like a snifter of some liquor and appeared to be staring into the fire.  Upon my entrance, he turned slightly to look at me.  This move brought his face slightly more into the light and I was able to see something that seemed familiar. 

 

As I was escorted closer by Georges, my new Master moved into even more into the light and I felt my knees go weak as I recognized the ruined side of Bossman’s face; Bossman, my new Master?

 

I didn’t know what to say.  I was so tired of being used as a pawn by men, so tired of being treated like a mindless animal, so tired of thinking that I knew what was going on when really I was being set up for some additional humiliation that was supposed to teach me something.  Finally, I was able to unlock my mouth. 

 

“Oh God,” I stammered like a small child.  “I didn’t expect you.  I wanted it to be you, but I didn’t expect it to be you.” 

 

He looked at me impassively, wordlessly for a moment, and then he said, “Thank you Georges, you may go.” 

 

He continued looking at me for a moment further and then replied, “I wasn’t sure whether or not you were worth keeping.  You played games right up to the very end.  That’s why you were……‘tested’ last night.  I had to know for sure if you’ve finally given in to what you know is your new life; if you’ve finally accepted that which you have been fated from the time you were born.”

 

I started to say something and he simply said, “Silence!”

 

I immediately shut up and assumed my position of obedience.  It was then that I realized I had not assumed this position when I had first seen him. 

 

Master looked at me for a moment longer, and then he asked, “Are you willing to be here now or will I need to worry about you running away all the time?  You know why you’re here and you know what I expect from you---so do you accept what you are now?  Do you truly submit to your new life?  Think it through and answer carefully.  This is your last chance.”

 

I was looking down as I had been trained, but when I looked up at his question, my eyes sparkled with unshed tears and all I could do was nod my head yes and say in a child-like voice, “I’ll stay…I’m yours……I’ll do whatever you wish.”

 

Nodding his head, he said, “Come with me.”  Bossman led me from the study to the dining room where two places were set on the table.  Georges had supervised setting the meal on a side table and was waiting for us.  Master sat down at the head of the table and looked at me.  As I began a move towards the other place setting, he stopped me. 

 

“You,” he explained, “are not the same as the rest of the staff here.  You are in an odd position.  You are less than them……and more.  Don’t make this mistake again---assuming what your place is here.  Here---dining---you will serve me and after I am happy, you will serve yourself.  You may make requests of the maid, but never make the mistake of believing that you are on a higher level than her.”

 

“A piece of advice….treat these people well, for they can make your life hell if they wish.  However,” and here he looked meaningfully at Georges, “if any of them go out of their way to make you miserable, they too will answer to me.  I assume that Georges showed you our little below-ground ‘amusement’ room?”

 

Upon my nod, he continued, “You belong to me now, and all that that pertains.  There actually was a client that had purchased you.  However, I have informed him today that I will be replacing you with another equally serviceable young girl within the week---she will be American of course.  Assuming you are now honest with us and yourself, I could not find it in myself to pass you along---at least not yet.  The timing of your departure from our little family here depends entirely upon you.  It is in your best interest to do your best to please me.”

 

“Is there anything you don’t understand?” he asked me.

 

“No Master.”  And with that, I began my new life with HIM.  I served him his meal, waiting upon his every desire.  At the end, I was able to eat a little as he sat and watched me.  Finally we were finished and we walked, he leading by a step and me carefully following behind, back into the study where the fire had died down slightly.  He approached the fire which had by now burned down slightly and again gazed into the flames.  I stood next to him, not knowing what to do.

Standing in back of me as I looked into the fire, he gently laid his hands on my shoulders; my stomach fluttered as if a small hummingbird were trapped there.  He leaned in and I could feel his face as he first sniffed my neck and then kissed me lightly below the ear.  I knew that he didn’t kiss me for me, but rather to confirm to himself that he had taken possession of a new toy.  With his hands, he slowly turned me around until I faced him.

He reached down to stroke the inside of my forearm and I shivered.  Nervous anticipation twirled in my stomach.  His fingertips tickled the inside of my elbow.  My gaze swept over his face, taking in the line of jaw, the tendons on his neck, the dark shadow on his chin.  He swiveled to face me, his pupils were dilated and I could smell his excitement.  Heat started in the pit of my stomach and radiated down.

He smiled softly, got up and led me to his bedroom.  When we got there, he tossed me on the bed and then headed to the bar to mix himself a drink.  He didn’t ask what I wanted and made me no offer.  He made a show of unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, making sure that I saw a good display of his muscles.  Slowly, he approached the bed and joined me on it.  As his lips moved down my neck, I couldn’t help myself---I twisted my face, nuzzling his neck and inhaling the musky smell of him.  I moved to the hollow in his collarbone and felt his heartbeat leap.

He kissed me and I could feel the heat from his body, so familiar from my dreams that I could drown in it.  The rich scent of him wafted through my brain, as intoxicating as peyote smoke.  I moved back a little and he pushed me against the headboard, his hands sliding to my hips and gripping hard.  His lips went back to mine, kisses deepening.

Suddenly, I felt my hands pulled in back of me and levered up towards the back of my head, pulling me off of the bed and forcing me to my knees.  I still hated not being able to move and tried to pull them down, but he held them tight.  I felt him moving and suddenly I was tied to the ceiling by thin soft ropes.  I jerked my arms, but they only moved a couple of inches before the bonds on my wrist snapped tight.  I felt a brief flare of resistance to my situation, but I knew that it was from the old me and fought it down.

Once I was secured, he walked around and knelt over me, obviously pleased with what he was seeing.  Still smiling, he took hold of the top of my blouse and ripped it down the middle.  I started to say something, but stopped, inhaling sharply.  He’d taken my breast in my mouth and was teasing the nipple with his teeth.  He flicked his tongue and it sprang up hard.  

His hand moved from my breast and began to stroke my stomach, moving lower with frustrating slowness.  I had an unbidden image of his naked body over me, and the lust flared.  He shifted and I could feel his erection slide up my thigh.  I spread my legs a little and felt the roughness of his pants brush against me.  Then he pulled back.  

“Can you feel it?” he asked.  “Where do you feel it?”  

He touched the inside of my thigh, just long enough to make my heart skip.  

“Do you feel it here?”  

He slid his hands further down my nylons to the inside of my knee, tracing the path of the chills coursing through me.  

“Can you feel it?” he asked, his face coming closer to mine.  

I started to close my eyes.  

“Don’t,” he said.  “Watch me.”

Under my skirt, his fingers slowly traced up my nylon clad thigh.  He toyed with me for a moment, and then plunged his fingers into me.  I let out a gasp.  His fingers moved inside of me, finding the center of my excitement.  I bit my lip to keep from crying out.  Just as I could feel the waves of climax building, my brain kicked in and I realized what I was doing.  I closed my eyes tight and jerked my arms hard against their bindings.  

The metallic whir of a zipper cut through the night air.  My eyes flew open to see him pulling his pants down over his hips.  As I saw the hunger in his eyes and his body, my hips moved up unbidden to meet him.  He was as I had remembered from a month ago.  Massive, inhumanly large and ready for me again.  I shook my head sharply, trying to clear it.  I twisted away.  He bent down, his face coming to mine.  

“I won’t force you this time.  All you have to do is tell me no.”  

He waited a moment.  “Tell me to stop.  Tell me to untie you.  I will.”  

His hand slipped between my thighs, parting them before I could clench them shut.  Heat and wetness rushed out to meet him, my body betraying me.  I felt the tip of him against me, but he didn’t go any further.  

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.  “Just tell me.”  

I looked at him, but the words wouldn’t come to my lips.  Then he grabbed me under the arms and lifted me up for a second---before pushing into me.  My body convulsed.  For one long second, he didn’t move.  I could feel him inside me; oh God, could I feel him as his hips pressed against me.  He pulled back slowly and my body protested, moving involuntarily against him as best it could, trying to keep him inside.  I felt his arms go over my head.  My bindings jerked once, then parted in his hands.  Now he thrust fully into me and my resistance snapped.  I grabbed him, hands entwining in his hair, legs wrapping around him. 

Standing slowly with me impaled upon him, my Master walked to the bed and lowered me upon it.  Gently pushing me away from him, he stood again.  I held my arms out to him as my hips ached to be pressed against him when he filled me.  But, after a moment, the heat began to cool and I closed my eyes in frustration.

 

“Lie back…….this might take awhile.”  Master lay down beside me and urged me to my knees; now he drew me down on his groin.  He watched intensely as I pulled up my skirt a little and settled down on top of him.  I began to move, trying to react to him as I thought he might want, but he slowed me down.  “Not yet,” he scolded me, pressing his hand between my legs.  “Take your time.”

 

For him, this wasn’t about release.  It was about suspense---the sweet anticipation inherent in fine lingerie, the scent of chocolate with raspberries, an ice cube melting.  He well understood the poetry of foreplay, how to bait a woman into giving him that which she had not planned.  How to make a woman desire senseless indenture.

 

I leaned forward on him and slowly began removing the wreckage of my blouse.  Suddenly, even though his slave, I felt like I needed to take risks.  I leaned further forward and pressed my naked skin against his chest. “What do you think about when you’re all alone in your big house?  Master?”

 

“I think you know.”

 

“Tell me,” I demanded, grabbing his hands and using them to cup my breasts.

 

“You are starting to play games with me again,” he rumbled back at me.

 

“Tell me that you think about this.”  As I continued down this dangerous path, I knew that I was teasing him, taunting him, but I couldn’t help myself.  I lifted myself onto my knees and pulled my skirt high enough for him to see how my thighs looked where my stockings ended and that I wasn’t wearing panties. 

 

“Tell me what you’d have me do?”  I pulled his hand up between my thighs to show him that finally, I too was ready. 

 

He pulled his hand from between my legs and pushed me onto my back.  It happened so quickly that I was almost frightened by the speed with which he’d moved.  I lay there on the bed in front of him with my blouse off, my skirt up around my mid-thighs and my legs spread.  He moved until he was between my legs and he slowly put his hands on the insides of my knees and pushed them further apart, then he slid my skirt up around my waist. 

 

Lowering his head, he slowly began to suck on her clit.  He’d thought about this moment since the last time that he’d taken her.  After a moment in which he struggled to find it, he captured it with his teeth and tortured her for a moment, before he grabbed it between his lips and tugged on it.  He looked up in time to hear her breath hiss in and watch her close her eyes, and throw her head back to the right.  He whispered to himself, “Salty candy.  Nothing but salty candy.”  Wolf continued his assault on her vagina with his mouth and M responded to every move he made.  When he brought a vibrator into play, she actually whined in anticipation as she waited for him.

 

Moving up, he gentled his mouth, sucking at her breast, feeling her relax and then nipping her again, pinching her nipple between his teeth and haring her moan in anguished pleasure.  His hand moved back into the warm wetness between her legs, to explore her as his mouth applied the exquisite torture to her breast.  His fingertips parted, probed, hunted, and found---invaded and stroked---and her hips arched begging for more.

 

So he gave her more.  Her vagina was becoming extremely moist and productive.  She was so wet now that it almost seemed as if she was letting down buckets of melted love.  Victoria felt him eventually spread her lips with his fingers in order to enter her---he didn’t need a lubricant since her vaginal flow was now so heavy she was constantly excreting a thick pearly, almost clear fluid.  A strong musky smell now emanated from between her legs like waves of heat off of a hot country road; nature had specifically designed a woman like this to ensure that men found her irresistible.

 

His first move was to slowly go to almost his maximum depth inside her; she shuddered once, not realizing that he had not yet completely sheathed himself in her.  After he’d held himself motionless for half a minute, he started to work her.  He took his time and it went on and on, until she was uncontrollable beneath him.  Finally he felt her whole body hold on to him; her arms grabbed him around his back, her legs wrapped around his waist and her vagina clamped onto his cock.

 

I couldn’t help myself; I was still sore enough that I felt myself make an involuntary face as he slowly spread me apart for his first entrance.  I focused on his face as I felt him position himself high on my belly and hips so that his every move, in or out, rubbed the top of his erection against my clitoris.  The rigid veins on his cock stood out in stark relief against his black skin and felt like huge knobs that had been put on this earth for just my pleasure.

 

As wet as I was for him, I was afraid that I was still too sore from last night to be able to be able to adequately respond.  It felt like he was putting a spike through my heart.  His first move to slowly impale me showed his instinctive mastery of my body; I felt helpless and totally vulnerable to him.  My pussy literally physically ached as his massive cock first filled and then over-filled the walls of my vagina; my clit was intensely sensitive, almost super-sensitive to his every movement and my labia and the walls of my vagina screamed their tenderness with every move that he made. 

 

He knew the time had come.  He could fill her as she lay on her back; make her cry out for mercy, the mercy that he didn’t feel for her or any other woman.  But now he had a goal, he needed to be able to go deeper inside her, much, much deeper.  He needed to position her to receive his gift of total domination; pose her in exactly right way to ensure that he took away the last vestiges of her freedom, of her ability to think for herself. 

 

His next move was to raise himself off of her chest and hook his hands behind her knees.  As he raised himself up, he brought her legs up around and against him and pulled her knees into his chest so that her legs were now locked straight and immovable.  Her heels were now up by his shoulders, but at the same time he leaned forward onto her and kept his weight on her hips as he pushed her legs back towards her chest.  She was pinned beneath him like a helpless young doe.  The act of locking her legs and raising her hips into the air even as she was impaled by him, now allowed him to physically penetrate her to the very tip of her femininity and even more if he desired---the great blunt purple/black head of his steel hard penis now rested at the very uppermost tip of her vagina and pushed hard against her cervix.  It was a position he’d perfected with numerous women in the past. 

 

Victoria knew that she was powerless before him.  He grimly continued to drive into her, relentlessly working her body until she was finally reacting helplessly to his unending and unforgiving patience.  Then he lifted her legs against his chest and bore down even more on her hips, penetrating her deeper than any man before him.  Even so, she was thankful that he always knew exactly how deep to penetrate before he caused her too much pain.  In this, he gave her great satisfaction, but not the anguish that she feared from his moves for she was totally dependent upon his humanity in this single kindness. 

 

Finally, she began to cum.  The walls of her vagina were clamped around his great penis in way that let him know exactly how wonderful was the pleasure that he’d given her.  And at that exact moment of orgasm, as has occurred to all women throughout time, her cervix had begun to spasm and prepared to unfold to receive even more deeply his sperm; to open and take it and suck it profoundly deeper into her womb, to ensure that her fertility kept the species alive.

 

He kept his cock fully buried in her, pushing at the end until there was that final physical resistance to him in her body over which even she had no control---he could literally go no deeper into her.  But with her in this position, he still had shaft yet to spare for his victim; there was iron-fleshed tool still dry and as yet unused, poised and eagerly waiting to assert its mastery over her.  He lay on her and inside her and watched her face; he looked at her and calculated her body’s reactions; he waited for exactly the right moment, exactly the perfect moment in which he could ensure that she would become his willing slave forever.  He waited and he waited for the ideal moment as she continued to cum beneath him; and as he waited for exactly the right instant at the height of her orgasm, he knew that it was as if she were begging him to finally master her, totally and completely. 

 

Inevitably, her moment of total subjugation had come.  As her cervix convulsed and finally opened to receive his gift of life, and he felt at the tip of his erection that quick, momentary release of the barrier inside her body that had been resisting his iron-fleshed will, with one move of his hips he plunged the head of his brutish cock almost another inch into her body, directly into the opening of her lower cervix.  He pushed in and pinned her, piercing her at an unimaginable depth as he had so many women before her.  

 

Taken unaware and powerless, her muscles now unresponsive, M’s face initially showed an odd look that somewhat resembled surprise or horror as she lay immobilized beneath his hips.  Successful in his maneuver, he now shrugged his shoulders almost contemptuously and allowed her legs to fall slowly, nervelessly away from his chest.  They made a whispery sound as her nylons moved along his flesh of his shoulders and her legs dropped away from him and flopped to the bed.  Lying on the mattress now, each of her legs landed spread far apart, the insides of her ankles and her knees and her thighs were open to the ceiling---she could be no more exposed or defenseless if she’d tried.  But she had no thoughts as to the vulnerability of her lower body at this moment---there were almost no thoughts in her mind at all right now. 

 

To ensure that he retained his mastery of her femininity, as their relative positions had changed with him allowing her legs to fall to the mattress, he’d leaned even further into her hips to ensure that he had maintained the full depth of his massive presence inside her body.  She was fully pierced and she was his; he now moved to ensure that he kept her that way.

 

A woman’s cervix is a small and tender organ; the opening in it is even smaller.  When it opened to receive his semen, the opening was still small compared to the size of his manhood.  It was never meant to be used this way and in such a brutal fashion.  He neither knew this nor would have cared had he known.  But the one thing he did know is that flesh stretches and endures.  By forcing himself into her like this, what he had done to her, like he had to so many other helpless women before her was an act of absolute sexual savagery.  But for his purposes, it worked.

 

This one had been important to him, and he was pleased to know that she wasn’t any different than the rest of them.  He watched her body react without conscious thought to his move, just as he had watched so many women react to this move before her.  Under his breath, he softly muttered, “Got you, bitch.  NOW you’re mine.”

 

First she lay frozen: it was as if she been anesthetized by him, left immobile and helpless as she lay beneath him; her eyes were wide open and almost bugged out as she faced the ceiling, but she didn’t blink—she saw nothing right now.  Her mouth opened and went into a perfect ‘oh’ shape as she sharply inhaled until her lungs could hold no more.  Beads of sweat appeared magically appeared on her upper lip and her forehead as her head slowly, mindlessly, began to turn from side to side.  Even as her face continued its reasonless turning from left to right and then back again, she never once blinked her bulging eyes.  At the same time, she lay beneath him with her limbs splayed out in ugly helplessness, her arms and legs extended and frozen into crooked immobility.  Nothing of her moved, not her legs nor her arms, not her fingers nor her toes. 

 

As I lay totally still beneath him, all animation in my body became suspended as my Master prepared me for my own personal version of nirvana---and of hell.  It seemed that my blood had turned into an icy solid, like my veins and arteries were filled with slow moving or even stationary glacial ice of the most profound blue color.  Very little thought was going on in my head, but in the deepest corners of my mind I knew that he could go no deeper into me.  He had been painfully pushing at the tip of my womb, and then somehow, incredibly, he’d managed to invade even deeper inside my body.  He was so deep inside me now that with his final thrust he’d inflicted so much pain on me that I was paralyzed.  He’d hurt me terribly with his move, but I couldn’t even scream my pain.  All I could do was lay paralyzed beneath him and try to survive.

 

He had thrust a telephone pole inside me as far as it would go, and then it seemed, he had been able at the end to somehow push it a foot or two even deeper.  I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe.  There was a blinding, freezing, immobilizing, all-consuming pain that began in my loins and which spread crashing throughout my body like a tidal wave.  The only sound I heard was that of rushing blood in my ears.

 

Wolf called this ‘sticking’ them.  To the woman, the pain at first was excruciating.  It was as if a titan had taken her and had somehow erotically pinned both her body and emotions against a cosmic tally board like a prime piece of exotic meat.  He’d asked them before what had happened to them at this moment, but none could explain.  He had no idea of what it must feel like, of what she must be experiencing at this exact moment; but it had happened like this every time he’d done this to one of his women.  But one thing of which he was absolutely sure of was how it would end, of how it always ended; he knew he’d just successfully done to her what he’d done to so many other women before her. 

 

He thought of his Australian beauty: about how he had taken another man’s bride on her wedding day and turned her into his willing personal sex slave; of how after he’d healed her mind, like the young girl that lay beneath him now, she’d assumed a position of frozen rigor upon his monumental penetration of her body.  And as her body had eventually thawed from his brutal thrust and when the pain had finally receded from inside her, how she’d screamed her desire for him and her undying love.  He thought about how at the end, he’d become her one true Master and she his true slave, and how she had willingly allowed him to do anything to her, including selling her to another, because she knew that this was what he wanted.

 

He thought back to the gorgeous German girl that he’d taken directly from her father in the Dominican Republic---how his massive piercing of her body like this had first penetrated her to her heart and transfixed her, how it had turned her blood to sleet in her veins as she froze solid beneath his hips and belly.  He thought of how her hips had slowly begun moving under him again as her blood had eventually melted from its icy state and how in the end she had become one of the hottest, most submissive and truly sexually dependent pleasure slaves that it had ever been his fortune to possess.  And, as with the others, it seemed her personality had been totally changed after he’d stuck her like this. 

 

He knew too what it did to all of them subsequently, how they all had always reacted after being stuck.  How, in conjunction with the drugs and coming at the end of everything else he’d put them through, it changed them, seemingly forever.  Every one of them had wound up being totally enslaved mentally, emotionally and physically after he’d manipulated them this way.  He slowly relaxed on M’s body as a feeling of satisfaction came over him.  His giant erection withdrew slightly from the territory it had conquered, but there was no doubt who was king here. 

 

I lay as if stunned beneath him and felt myself controlled, as if I were an insect nailed with my arms and legs spread wide to a piece of felt in some great erotic collection of his.  I couldn’t move---I didn’t dare move because if I did, I knew that I would surely die and fall into two separate pieces, my body broken at the waist.  As I laid there helpless, one tiny part of me tried to analyze what I felt, what feelings were ricocheting around my lungs and my abdomen, into my arms and my legs, but I couldn’t.  All I could do was endure.

 

I later found out that he routinely did this to all of the female slaves that he kept.  After about forty-five seconds---or forty-five years, the pain had washed throughout my body and had crashed back to where it began, as if it had reached barriers somewhere that wouldn’t allow it to depart my body.  As the waves of pain coming back met at the source of all of my anguish, it seemed that they began to cancel each other out and I sensed that my agony was finally beginning to decrease a little---or perhaps I was getting used to the pain.  Nonetheless, with this I felt some small bit of life begin to return to my body again as I lay under his hips.  As I guess with all of the others before me, it started slowly with my eyelids and fingers and arms, eventually spreading to my toes and feet, and eventually my trunk.  First I felt my eyelids flutter once.  And then my eyelids fluttered again, and finally I was able to blink.  I’d always been aware of the full weight of his body on mine, but my vision had failed momentarily.  I now could begin to move a little beneath him; and then I could move even more as my body came back to life.  Finally I was able to exhale a little to make a small sound, but all I could do was say, “Oooooooooooh Ggggoddddddd!” as I breathed out the used air that had built up in my lungs. 

 

The overall blinding pain between my legs and inside my abdomen continued to slowly recede and I was able to move even a little more.  It was then that I felt the heat begin in my loins as a small gentle blaze, which within seconds had exploded into an out-of-control wildfire.  All I could say a second time was “Oooooooooooh Goddddddd!”  I couldn’t control myself.  It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced---my arms and legs felt as if they’d been thawed and were free to move now, and they moved almost with a mind of their own around and over and on him. 

 

But my hips were still frozen in place by the steel-like bar of his flesh that was buried so impossibly and still painfully deep inside my belly.  My skirt was rumpled up around my waist; and as that had been ground between us as he moved on me, it kept me in touch with the more normal sensations of my skin and my body.  Finally, the fire in my loins had thawed the black ice in my frozen belly to the point where I could begin to move again despite the ache his firmly buried cock was still causing.  Once I started to move in response to his presence, I knew that there was no way that I could stop myself; there was no way that I WANTED to stop myself.  I knew that I’d finally become for him exactly that which I’d swore that I would never be for ANY man. 

 

I heard myself begging him for more of his cock, for yet deeper and harder penetrations of my pussy by him.  Even though I knew he would hurt me even more, I found myself grabbing him and pulling on him to get him closer to me, to get him deeper inside me.  There were no limits to the slut/whore/cuntdom that I wouldn’t go to get what I needed from him now.

 

After about a minute or so, again like the others before her, M was finally able to claim everything he had to give her.  Sweat was pouring off of her now just like all of his previous conquests; and like the others too, she was making frenzied claims on every part of his body.  He gave her what she demanded, but still always watched from afar as she approached, achieved and went past a second, impossibly higher and even more intense orgasm.  He lay upon her sweaty belly and watched almost impassively as her arms and legs were thrust akimbo, moving in an almost mindless fashion, just reacting to his deep presence inside her. 

 

She screamed and cried; she clawed at his shoulders, back and buttocks.  Her legs intertwined with his and then untwined to wrap around his waist again.  But this time, in the throes of a true mindless passion, she squeezed him with her thighs locked around his waist until he found it hard to breathe.  He was making long, smooth, slamming thrusts into her belly now, not trying to keep anything from her or himself.  His cock now was wet to the hilt with her juices as he ensured time after time that she enjoyed; no, that she was punished with every inch that he had to give her.  M was throwing her head back and forth in a manic frenzy of physical desire, babbling her love and her lust for him. 

 

He kept pushing into her and she kept pushing him higher and higher, begging for more and more, when suddenly he began to cum; as he ejaculated, it seemed that she had been filled to the top with his scalding hot semen as he came and came and came.  And as he was cumming, her desire seemed to reach a crescendo which lasted about thirty seconds, after which she collapsed beneath him.  She was drenched in her own sweat, sucking great heaving lungfuls of air, even as he was calm and controlled above her.

 

And finally, I had gotten for now what I needed from him.  After a moment he rolled off of me.  I lay there beside him breathing heavily and then I shivered slightly as the sweat on my chest began to dry.  My mind was flying a million miles a minute---I felt so good right now.  I tingled all over my body and I felt a general, wonderful sense of well being.  A gentle feeling of warmth seemed to be suffusing into every aching muscle and joint and I was experiencing an almost religiously profound feeling of pleasure.  I stretched luxuriously and turned to look at Bossman with adoration.

 

I now knew instinctively that my capitulation to him a month ago had only been the beginning and that all of my vows and tricks and games since then had been as the act of a small child to its parent.  He was truly my Master and he owned me totally---he owned me body and soul; I knew it now, and I knew that he knew it too.  I was nothing but a creature of his will; his pleasure slut and his whore.  He owned every inch of my flesh and every hole in my body, and I was willing to do anything he desired in order to bring the smallest pleasure to his day.  I wanted nothing more than to belong to him---forever.

 

We lay there on his bed, drenched in sweat, chests heaving to replenish oxygen used just moments ago.  Neither of us spoke for several minutes, but finally he turned on his side and just looked at me.  I looked at him and smiled as I said, “What?”

 

I reached out to touch the fanciful part of his face and he pulled back and said, “Don’t.”  I pulled my hand back and just stared at the ceiling.  This impasse continued for several minutes until it began to get uncomfortable for me.  Finally, I again turned to look at him and asked, “Master, what happens to me now?”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “You belong here….to me.  You are the prize, you’ve always been the prize.  More than that, I can’t say right now.”

 

For me, even though I wasn’t sure what he meant, that had to good enough.  I knew what my fate was now, and in some ways I was not only glad, but happy that it had happened to me.  I had traded in my freedom for happiness and the chance to discover the true me.  What more can a girl ask than that?

 

My skirt was still bunched up around my waist and uncomfortable, so after looking at Master for permission, I eased it off but left everything else on.  We lay in bed for thirty minutes when suddenly Master got up on his elbow to look at me.  He then reached over to the side of his bed and picked up a tube of lubricant, telling me to put it on him.  After I had lavishly applied the lubricant on him, without any hesitation or subtlety, he said, “Roll over, I’m going to take you again.”

 

Not sure that I had heard him correctly, I looked at him in disbelief and after a moment said, “Master, please.  This is something that frightens me---please, I’m not yet used to it like that.  You want to take me from the rear?  Even though you know that I’m afraid that you’re so big that you’ll hurt me---forever?  It was so good for us the other way, can’t we do that again?  Please Master, don’t do this to me yet, give me time to get ready, please!”

 

My Master looked at me in the eyes and said, “We’ll do it slowly, M.  Slowly.  It is not your body that I desire so much, but rather your innocence.  The answer to your question is……..roll over, NOW”

 

I looked at him for a moment with tears in my eyes and without another word rolled over onto my stomach.  I kept my chest up on my elbows and spread my legs for him. 

 

Bossman told her, “No.  Get up on your hands and knees.”  Having undergone all of her obedience training in the last month, he was pleased that she immediately scrambled to all fours just as he’d instructed.  He now moved between her spread legs and up against the back of her thighs and her ass.  He knew that this would give him a little better angle on his initial penetration of her body.  He really had no plans to go slow with her from this point on, but what she was worried about was of no consequence, no real concern of his.  Once he had her where he wanted her, his options with her would be unlimited and her choices would be exactly zero. 

 

He slowly slid his hands up the back of her thighs, finally sliding over the top of her nylons and on up to what was his ultimate goal.  When they reached her ass he slowly spread her cheeks apart and bared her puckered brown hole.  He enjoyed running his hands over her muscular buttocks and finally he spread them wide to see his brown, puckered target; it looked good, abnormally enlarged and ready for him to penetrate.  He was glad that he’d had his men working on her from the beginning, because he’d known that it would come to this from the first minute that he’d first seen photos of this teenager.  ALL of his pleasure slaves eventually took it in the ass from him---if they couldn’t handle it there, they were moved on and sold.  After he played with her for a minute, his hands dropped between her legs again and he slowly massaged her wet pussy for a minute. 

 

Oh God, I was glad that he was going slowly with this.  He was so massive that if he wasn’t patient, he would kill me, he would literally kill me.  The tip of his manhood was the size of an apple and his shaft the size of my wrist---he was just too big for me.  I was frightened that I wasn’t physically prepared for him---frightened that he would seriously hurt me as he did this; yet at the same time I tried to mentally prepare myself to do this for him.  I wanted this to be successful more than anything in the world and I wanted to please him.  I was determined to give him the satisfaction that he craved from me this way, even though I knew that it would hurt me sp terribly much.  And even if it went against my upbringing and my nature, I knew that it was his right now to do whatever he wanted with my body.  He moved against the back of my thighs and I felt his hands on my hips.  Then his hands went away and I felt him pull my cheeks apart with one of his hands as he guided himself to his objective with his other. 

 

“Just relax yourself,” he said.  “We’ll take our time with this.” 

 

His reassurances helped calm my fear.  As I tried to relax my anal sphincter, I could feel his penis start to sink into me slightly.  Having affected his first entry, he now placed his hands on my waist as he rolled my hips around and rocked himself back and forth, slowly sinking in a little deeper with each move.  I was so glad that we were going to be deliberate and take our time.  I heard myself moan softly; God he was huge!

 

Somehow, the bulbous tip of his penis slid without too much difficulty past my first defenses and into me, and I could feel my sphincter muscles stretch to accept him and then lock onto the groove behind his great circumcised head.  Although painful and exceedingly uncomfortable, the month-long efforts of his men at making me large enough for him were apparently successful.  At first he only moved a little, giving me only a taste of what I knew must be coming.  But even this little made my cry out in pain.  The pain at this point was a sharp, yet dull ache, accompanied by a tremendous feeling of my flesh being stretched to the point that it might tear.  Oh God, he was so big! 

 

He was still upright on his knees and his were inside of mine, continually forcing my thighs even further apart.  He was behind me touching the backs of my thighs and leaning slightly over me, his hands were both on my hips now and they clenched my flesh painfully.  Then he began to move his hips and enter me more fully---thankfully he still took his time. 

 

He looked down at her and could see her long blonde hair hanging down and covering much her face.  Through the fall of her hair, he could see that she had her eyes closed and that her mouth hung open in pain.  She was panting slightly as if from exertion, and tiny gasping sounds were coming out of her with each breath.  Every time he moved against her, her hair would gently sway and M’s head would rise up as if pain and she would give out a soft moan. 

 

He looked down at her tiny waist and beautiful asscheeks as they approached, yet never touched him.  He still had many inches to go before he was fully sheathed in her ass and it took every bit of his willpower to avoid punishing her with one major thrust.

 

Her beautiful full breasts hung down and swayed with every move of his body against hers.  Her gorgeous nipples were erect---this greatly turned him on even though he knew it was due to her fear of him and the unknown---there was no passion here yet.  But at the same time, he knew that it was right that she should fear him in this, for here is where he would either damage her permanently as he had the Venezuelan police woman of long ago or turn her into his next ‘permanent’ lover.  This moment on this night, he knew, would determine her future for the next few years, determine whether or not she was worthy of keeping or was to be passed on to another, lesser owner. 

 

He no longer had the patience to go slow or the desire to wait for her body to prepare to receive him with minimal pain.  Rather, he now reached forward and grabbed both of her elbows with his hands and then he pulled back hard, forcing her upper body to collapse to the bed beneath them.  At the same time, even as she was falling to the mattress he began his first major thrust into her still tight ass with a single move of his hips.  His weight was on her back, riding her as she crumpled and hit the mattress.  And as her body came to rest with a single bounce, he continued his drive into her by pushing hard with his hips and his thighs.  In one smooth magical move, his huge black glistening cock disappeared completely inside her.  The effect upon Victoria was immediate and electric.

 

I felt him hit my elbows and myself falling to the bed underneath him.  Then I couldn’t help it, I was screaming as the full length of his huge erection was rudely and unexpectedly rammed into me to the hilt.  I felt his nuts slap me between my legs---and then I felt like I was being torn in half, it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before.  I knew that he had torn my flesh with this initial drive into me and as I lay beneath him sobbing and screaming, he muffled my screams and shrieks for mercy by pushing my face into the bedding. 

 

It was awful!  His weight was heavy upon me and he didn’t move again for almost a minute.  He just lay between my legs and upon me and kept my hips pinned beneath his while my face was pushed into the mattress.  My legs were splayed wide apart and I had my hands up by my shoulders as if to do a pushup.  I could feel his hard thighs pushing against the back of my legs and his weighty, hard muscled body lay upon me and kept me from breathing.  At first, I was blinded by tears running down my cheeks, but slowly, finally, it seemed that I had started to become numb to his giant presence inside me. 

 

Bossman lay upon M and kept her impaled with his erection as he looked at her blonde hair beneath him.  He gloried in the feel of her tight ass as it clenched upon him and then let go, only to grab him again and again.  He loved the way his thighs brushed against the insides of hers and how her nylons felt against his legs as they ended at the tops of her thighs.  He gloried in the multitude of sensations that he was able to take from her body; her tight asshole around his cock and her muscular buttocks erotically pushed into his groin, the backs of her nylon covered legs rubbing against the front of his thighs, her narrow waist and firm, sweaty back and soft skin beneath his belly and chest, the clean smell of her long blonde hair in his face, the strangled sobs and soft cries of pain---it all overloaded his senses. 

 

Finally, he knew that it was time to begin the dance that would decide M’s ultimate fate.  Wolf began to move his hips in a slow, yet irresistible movement that wouldn’t be denied, could never be stopped.  M again began screaming and after a moment, he stopped again.  He was pleased with her though, because regardless of all of her screaming and obvious pain, she had never once tried to buck or throw him off of her.  Even though she was still too vocal in accepting the discomfort due her as a pleasure slut, he was glad that she had finally appeared to learn to accept her new role in life.

 

God, he’s started pounding into me again and he wouldn’t stop.  I cried and screamed as he pulled out of me and then did the same as he drove into me again.  Finally, after about a dozen long, deep thrusts into me, he stopped for about a minute and kept his erection buried inside me all the way again.  I had my eyes closed and couldn’t see anyway because of my tears---and the worst part was that I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.  It was as if his existence so deeply inside me somehow prevented me from breathing; it wasn’t the pain his presence there caused---that was overpowering, but that still wasn’t it.  Rather, it was as if his physical presence somehow took up the space that I needed for breathing.  It was as if his existence so profoundly deep inside me somehow stopped my diaphragm and lungs from working, making it hard for me to inhale.  At the same time, the bottomless depth at which his flesh was buried in mine was still causing me great pain---but in a way that made me feel like maybe I would soon be anesthetized there if he didn’t move too much; perhaps there was a possibility that I could finally learn to please him this way if only he’d allow me the chance.

 

After giving her a moment to recover, he told her to get on her knees again, but to leave her forehead on the mattress.  He had to mostly pull out of M and take his weight off of her hips in order for her to be able get her ass back in the air for him again.  She struggled and when she had finally succeeded in getting her hips up, he again entered her.  This time he was able to quickly penetrate her and he chose to give her only about two inches this time.  This brought another heartfelt scream from her and again he temporarily pushed her face into the mattress to muffle her.

 

When M had finally gotten back on her knees, even has he pushed her face into the mattress, he ordered her to begin masturbating herself with her left hand.  At the same time, he was now able to grab both of her breasts and use them to pull her body towards his hips.  His hands were cruelly gripping and fondling her breasts and when she cried out in pain, he told her to move with the pain.  Eventually Victoria understood what he meant and she began to push on the mattress with her free right hand and back away from the head of the bed towards him in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his hands on her breasts.  He was pleased again with her level of obedience as she never stopped playing with herself with her left hand as she pushed on the bed with her right.

 

Moving back against him also meant that her only chance of reducing the pain he was causing to her breasts was to impale herself upon his huge cock again.  Broken and perfectly tamed now, she cried out and groaned as she determinedly forced herself upon him, never once wavering in her resolve to follow his every command and exchange the pain in her breasts for the pain of his full penetration in her ass.  After a minute or so, she was grinding her ass against his groin and she firmly fixed upon his cock again; she could go no further back against him.  She was continually groaning and grunting now, but whether due to his grasp on her breasts or his cock buried in her ass, he couldn’t tell.  This was a great moment in their relationship, for he now had evidence that she’d been perfectly broken; that the feeling of independence that she’d loved so was gone and that she was his mentally as well as physically. 

 

I had backed onto him as far as I could and it hurt me a lot to do so, but he didn’t seem to care---he just pulled on my breasts and kept me pinned against his hips.  It was at this point that I began to realize the pain of him inside me was receding and that it was finally beginning to feel---if not good, then at least acceptable.  I later realized that the way he filled me at this point seemed beyond what my physical body could hold and that he had extended the walls of my body beyond their material limits---and that it was this feeling of total lack of control over both myself and everything around me that had begun to drive me towards my first anal orgasm. 

 

I was finding that for me, while accepting him inside me like this caused me pain and not much pleasure yet, the erotic part---the part that really turned me on---was the act of submitting to his will and doing something that I would never have considered on my own.  This single act of my willingly offering to him every aspect of my freedom automatically made him exempt from the laws that ruled the average men and women, and allowed him to do wonderful things to me; his paintings upon my body featured freely brushed strokes of love, if not tenderness.

 

This time, when he started moving inside me again, it still hurt, oh God, did it still hurt, but somehow I wanted more.  I cried out as he pulled out and then I screamed again in some pleasure as plunged back inside me again.  I finally began to feel a need and a passion that I knew I would never have experienced if it wasn’t for him. 

 

He had her back up on her hands and knees now.  He’d released her breasts and now had two large handfuls of her long hair.  He was using these as one might use reins on a horse.  When he pulled hard on her hair, it forced her head up a little but mainly it forced her to do a grinding motion with her ass as she backed into him to take the full length of his erection inside her.  When he let go of the pressure on his ‘reins’, it allowed her to lower her head a little and she would then slide a couple of inches off of him. 

 

She crouched like an animal beneath him, taking it up the ass just like all of the others---having a gorgeous bitch hanging off of his cock like this felt great.  He knew now that she was a keeper and it made him feel good.  With him holding handfuls of her hair, it gave him pleasure to be able to pull her head to the side every now and then so that he could see her face better.  He liked looking at his pleasure slut’s faces when he took them like this.  This one’s eyes were still closed, but her mouth wasn’t open to show her pain.  Instead, it was now open to enable her to give voice to the pleasure that he was bringing her. 

 

Every now and then, she’d turn her head so that she could look at him.  M’s face was beautiful, and she kept her beauty even as he knew that he was hurting her.  She’d smile even as he forced another groan out of her, and then she’d face ahead and continuing taking it in the ass like the whore that he’d always known had been hidden inside her for the last nineteen years.  The last time she looked at him for his approval, he pulled on the handful of her hair on that side of her face and held it so that she had to continue looking at him.  At the same time, his other hand grabbed her hip and then he thrust and lifted with his hips at the same time in order to change the angle of his penetration into her ass; he knew full well that he would hurt her with this move.  He watched with satisfaction as her eyes fluttered shut and he could see the wattage go out of the tentative smile on her face as she was overcome by the pain he offered her.  But she willingly accepted even this anguish as the price for her being allowed to remain where she was, on her hands and knees being fucked in the ass by a giant cock.

 

Looking down at her hips, he could see her asshole grasping at nothing as he pulled all the way out of her.  He looked at the massive head of his cock and noticed how it was almost that thick at the base.  Then her asshole was blotted out as he drove into her again and he felt her weight back on him.  She made a long ululating sound as he penetrated her this time and her cry was definitely one of pleasure and not pain.  She hung off of his cock like an ornament on a Christmas tree and it felt wonderful.  Unlike the others before her, M seemed to be able to put pressure on him the whole length of his erection and not just at the base with the muscles of her anal sphincter.  It felt like her rectum was vacuum packed around the length of him, not just tight on one tiny part.  The feeling was unlike anything he’d previously experienced and he concentrated on cataloguing all of the sensations that were associated with it.  This one might even be around longer than most of the others. 

 

At the end, when he entered me from the rear, it gave me such a keen feeling of beautiful fullness that the pain was literally outside my body; a delicate yet intense feeling of cramping and distension that came as if it occurred in someone else’s rectum and bowels.  I knew that my knees were spread obscenely wide as I crouched helplessly underneath him and he continued to give me the exquisite love/pain thrusts from which I no longer desired to escape.  He kept taking longer and deeper strokes into my rear, always controlling my hips and legs with his body; he pulled on my hair and with his massive cock, he drove my body ahead of him as a great tsunami pushes the smallest boat.  The way he held me now, I could not avoid anything, but rather had to accept everything he did to me.  While his hips controlled the entrance to my body that he now filled with incredible ease, he controlled the rest of my body and mind with his hands and voice alone.  This was what I found so erotic; he was my Master.

 

I looked at him unabashed adoration as he gave me what I hadn’t even known that I needed.  I worshiped at his feet; I idolized the way that he kept me frozen on my hands and knees, taking whatever he wanted and giving me what I needed.  I tried to look at him to let him know how I felt, but he would pull my hair and force my face back to the front.  He would then punish my insolence even more by lifting up with his hips as he drove into me once more, forcing me to arch my back and pelvis to reduce the agony as I accepted him; my whole body responding to the additional pain that he offered with this move.  God, I loved it!

 

He took me high and then made me come down again, rode me up and then forced me down again, never allowing me any release.  I finally began to understand what it was all about.  His giantness inside me caused more than fullness, he had given me this pain on purpose.  But it was my anguish, my helpless reaction to him ripping and tearing inside me that gave him pleasure; and giving him pleasure was now what my whole life was dedicated to.  I began to take the pain he brought me and used it to take myself high into the sky when suddenly, finally, I heard myself screaming to him, “Deeper, give me all the cock you’ve got!  If you want more you black bastard, then take it.  Deeper!  Rip me in half!  Fuck me, hurt me, take me!  I want it all!”  He was my Master and he deserved to be able to do this to me.

 

He now began a furious fucking motion and it was at that moment that they both began their first true ride up together and then they exploded simultaneously in both sound and feeling.  They rode that rocket to the skies again and again, and finally one more time again.  Her screams of passion rose and rose again until her voice cracked like a cheap mirror, leaving her with only groans and moans to convey the emotions that filled her.  Always aching and in pain, her rectum still gripped and sucked him in, demanding more of him and he always responded.

 

Then it was over, with quarts and gallons of semen flooding into Victoria as her orgasm exploded and consumed both of them in its fires.  Her body shook beneath him, the breath driven from her lungs and the sight from her eyes.  Lacy, delicate waves of release washed over her as the need that she’d never known that she’d had was finally satisfied.  He collapsed on top of her back and the two of them lay there while her uncontrollable muscle contractions subsided and left her uncaring and unknowing.  She never felt it when he finally pulled out and released a flood of their mixed fluids to run down her crotch and puddle on the mattress.  She felt only the wonderful feeling of nothingness and contentment that followed the explosion of her long denied first anal climax.

 

I knew now that I had been waiting my whole life for an aggressive man, one who made me feel helpless and needy, one who dominated me completely.  Thinking of the man who desired me, I knew that I wanted him to take me by force rather than by insincere gamesmanship.  I’d have opened my heart to let enter any male who wanted me more than anything else in the world, who would risk anything he possessed to have me.  Most men don’t understand what happens to women and especially to a woman like myself.  But perhaps a few do, and to That One I had said, I’m ready, I am ready and waiting.  And the Master had responded.

 

I knew now what I was.  I was his; his to play with and his to hurt and his to love.  Whatever he wanted to do with me was alright, because I would be giving him pleasure in it, and that was what now all counted in my life.  Letting him decide what he wanted to do to me and with me would give me all the pleasure, and pain, that I deserved.  Right now I suffered.  I knew my cervix was bruised and my womb ached and throbbed; my rectum hurt and I think that he’d torn my flesh when he first entered me there.  But I will recover and I was willing to accept this in order to remain with him.

 

Wolf lay in bed and looked at Victoria.  He was exhausted and filled with a general feeling of pleasure and well-being.  He’d gorged himself upon M’s body tonight and she’d proved to be all that he’d hoped that she would be.  She’d taken everything he had in every way that he’d desired, with no complaint and in the end had begged for more.  She was still naďve and relatively untrained for a pleasure slave.  But what she lacked in training, she now more than made up for it in beauty, enthusiasm and sheer physical ability.  He was fatigued and his loins tingled with a pleasant sensation of exhaustion.  Their sex that night had been an endurance contest and they both were exhausted.  She was now sleeping next to him, lying on her left side and holding on to his arm with her right hand.  He had allowed her to remove her high heels, but had her leave her garters and stockings on. 

 

Every now and then she would give out a soft snore.  Many times like this, he would wake up in the middle of the night with a raging erection; it pleased him to be able to roll over onto a slave like this and take her without warning or preparation.  In addition to the pleasure and the sheer physical release that this gave him, the initial shock and the screams that he provoked from his bedmate with this act always helped to reinforce both the helplessness of her situation and the position that she filled in his life.

 

He thought of the two girls he’d recently sold to the pimp in Mexico City; Megan, the Irish redhead and Bridgette, the brunette from France.  He always liked to keep a couple of pleasure sluts around and he had been annoyed with himself.  He’d screwed up because he’d sold these two before he’d had their replacements trained.  He’d wound up having to use one of the local girls and he didn’t like doing that.  He had to be a lot more careful with them than he did with the women that he kidnapped, and in the end he’d just sent her home again with a lot of money.  M was going to be a great piece of ass, but he was pissed that he’d had to go over five days between getting laid.  He’d built up a nice little load waiting for her to finish her training and he knew that he’d take out his frustrations on her over the next few days.  But she was a big girl and he knew that she could take it.  Hell, she may have been a tight-assed little virgin when she was home with her parents, but from what he’d seen of her tonight, she’d probably love it!

 

He’d ordered the pair of girls sold because he’d had enough with the French girl.  He’d gotten over $40,000 for two, since he’d sold them as a pair.  They were now working on the second floor of a nasty hotel in the worst part of one of the worst cities on the continent.  He’d kept them for about a year and a half until he got tired of Bridgette’s whining.  She’d become exceedingly disrespectful, trying tell him what she thought he needed to do to/with her and with Megan, as if she knew Megan’s body and her body better than he did. 

 

In all honesty though, he had to admit that he felt a sense of pleasure at the current situation.  He’d finally realized that most of his desire to be rid of Bridgette was pretty simple---she’d put on more weight than he liked while he was gone.  Leave it to the French to eat too much bread, he thought to himself.  Instead of putting her ass on a starvation diet and keeping them both around, he’d just decided to sell both girls off and bring in some new blood.  It was a pity about Megan; the beautiful redhead from Ireland hadn’t really deserved being sold as a whore along with Bridgette, but life can be a bitch when you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time.  In truth though, he really did have to admit that he was rather pleased with the results of his decision at this point.  He leaned over and whispered softly into M’s ear, but she didn’t awaken.

 

Wolf had watched television in the study this evening just before M had been delivered and he’d seen the woman on TV that had haunted his dreams for so long and who had forced his life into the twisted turns that he had taken over the last thirty years.  This was the woman that had told him, “You’re not the one.”  This was the one upon which he’d always vowed vengeance.  But he’d also thought that the reality was that his talk of revenge had been nothing more than that—an attempt to pacify his male ego.

 

He’d also had the opportunity to watch her on TV almost a month ago and she had aged tremendously in the last thirty days.  And he’d appreciated that the television camera was not kind to her; that the lens of the camera had showed her as she was now and not as she used to be.

 

Wolf looked over at M and stroked her perfect breast lightly.  She awoke for moment and smiled at him and then nestled back to sleep still hugging his arm.  Just a second ago, she thought he’d whispered in her ear something inane like “Don’t put on any extra weight.” 

 

He looked at her breasts and saw the remnants of the telltale blush that so betrayed her emotions regarding him.  He thought again about the woman that he’d hated for so long and he thanked this stupid woman for her carelessness.  She looked awful, and he tried to imagine the anguish that could make someone age so greatly over the space of only a few weeks.  He thought to himself with a smile, having your only daughter kidnapped can do that to a person.

 

Epilogue

Somewhere late at night a whispered plea for help is received on a cassette tape, accompanied by a request for silence until all is resolved.  Voice verified, a decision is reached.  Quickly dressing, a rendezvous is made with the source of the tape.  A short, vicious struggle ensues and all is quiet again.  Still later, a boat departs in the middle of the night and all is still again.

 

***

 

She woke up in the morning and blearily looked around her.  Over thirty-six hours had passed since she’d been kidnapped, but she was unaware of this as they’d kept her unconscious the whole time.  All she knew was that her tongue tasted awful and her jaw ached; while her mouth was filled with her saliva, her lips were parched and dry.  What the hell was going on?  She was groggy and felt nauseated every time she tried to move.  Her head felt like a balloon as it wobbled on her shoulders.  She tried to say something and only then noticed that she’d been gagged!  She struggled for a moment, but ran out of breath quickly and soon realized that it was useless.  She became aware of the sweat beading her body, running in small trickles off of her chest, stomach and thighs.

 

Her long blonde hair covered much of her face.  Weakly shaking it out of the way, she raised her head and glanced down at herself.  She realized for the first time that she was naked and lying spread eagled on a bed; that wide leather straps had been put around her ankles and wrists and that her hands and feet were bound to the bed posts.  For some reason her hips ached something awful, it hurt to move her butt and she had on a pair of red high heels.  She tried to rise off of the bed, but failed.  Panic blossomed in her mind and threatened to take control.  She took deep breaths and the walls stopped moving.  With this, the panic began to die too.  After a moment, she was able to conquer her fear through sheer will power and now began to look around the cabin. 

 

He sat in the corner, silently watching her.  This was a beautiful woman and he knew that there were things about her that bode well for his needs.  But there were things that he’d discovered about her that made him think that she too had needs that were unfulfilled; itches that were as yet unscratched.  Furthermore, she was a control freak and it would be interesting to see how she reacted when she first realized that she’d forever lost control over every aspect of her life.  He had a feeling that his life had just gotten a little more interesting.

 

She lay unmoving for several minutes, her mind floated, half deadened by the aftereffects of the drugs she’d been given.  What had happened?  The last thing she remembered was………Oh God!  She’d run out of the house wearing only an old pair of sweats, and then……..

 

She struggled for a second time, but finally gave up when she realized that she was bound to the bed in a way that ensured she would never free herself without assistance.  Still deep inside her, panic coiled around her heart.  Her body was now finished all over with a thin sheen of perspiration which gleamed in the morning sunlight.  Her nipples stood erect from her exertions and she had difficulty in getting enough air to breathe through her nose because of the gag in her mouth.

 

She knew that this was a bad dream and that soon something would happen to wake her up; she’d be able to laugh about it in the morning and perhaps even jokingly tell others about it. 

 

He’d been sitting in the chair waiting for her to come out of her drugged sleep.  She’d been porpoising in and out of consciousness for the last fifteen or twenty minutes and he figured that she had about as clear a head as she was going to get, considering all the drugs they’d kept her on for the last day and a half.  He’d always made it a rule that he was the first to sample any new bitch’s wares and he liked to be there when they woke up.  It tended to take a lot of the fight out of his women when they were first confronted with their new reality by a man built like him.  He liked to take them before they’d had a chance to figure out what was going on; before they’d had a chance to gather their will power and the determination to fight their captors. 

 

He knew that it was disorienting as hell to them.  There they were, coming out of a long drugged sleep, still confused as to what had happened and then he immediately mounted them like the sluts that they were and literally gave them the fuck of their lives.  The whole crew then came after him and by the time the first day had ended the women were physically exhausted, emotionally traumatized and in great pain from their first gangbang.  Most females felt totally helpless against this continuous male onslaught and while at the end of a long day of getting their brains fucked out, a few may have had the faintest desire to struggle against him, most had no idea of how to fight what seemed to be an overpowering physical force. 

 

But this one could be interesting.  He knew without a doubt that she was one of the mentally toughest cunts that he worked with in awhile.  But he knew the secret was to never give the woman the time to gather her wits or to marshal her will power.  Fuck ‘em up at the beginning and never give them time to recover or let them sleep after that.  It was just another set of tools that he used to keep his life full of broken women.  It had worked with all of the others and he had no doubt that it would work with her.  Soon, sooner than she would ever believe possible, she’d be willingly fucking them all, taking it in the ass and sucking on all of their dicks just like the natural whore that he knew she kept hidden inside her.

 

Controlling her fear and forcing herself to be calm a second time, she began to look around the place in which she was confined.  She noticed some cheap nautical looking furniture and when combined with the round windows and gentle rocking motion, it clicked; she was on a boat. 

 

Finally, she noticed a black man sitting motionless in a chair.  Her breathing tightened and her throat closed down.  She wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow herself.  If she started, she knew she would never stop.  He was like a huge statue, medium brown in color and with muscles jutting out all over his body.  Part of his face was wreck, but it was difficult to tell because one side was covered in a fantastic, fanciful tattoo.  He was a monster, the Devil personified.  She writhed, trying to attain a position which left her vulnerable nakedness less exposed to his view, but she was unsuccessful in this.

 

He sat in the chair for a long time without saying a word, just watching, just looking.  The man in the chair finally gave her a slight smile and then he stood up and said, “Good morning.” 

 

Turning so that his back was to her, he started undressing, taking off only the swim trunks that he wore.  His buttocks and the backs of his legs writhed with muscle as he folded the trunks and laid them on the chair.  Then he stood upright and said, “Listen to me and listen carefully.  How your next few weeks go depend solely upon you.” 

 

This was a beautiful woman.  He’d seen her dressed up for television and had thought her ravishing then; he now knew that she was even more gorgeous in person than it had seemed was possible.  He was looking forward to seeing how Jorge dressed her after she’d been broken and had entered her training phase.  Jorge had some very high quality raw material with which to work this time.

 

Finally, he turned and slowly began walking towards her.  There was nothing here that he had done himself, it was purely genetics for him; but nonetheless he loved this part for it was always the same.  The captive women would look at him, then they’d LOOK at HIM and their eyes would open wide and their pupils would dilate and their heads would begin thrashing from side to side as they tried to free themselves from their bonds.  But they never could.  He loved watching their faces when they saw him naked for the first time, especially their eyes.  The eyes never lied; he looked into their eyes and saw the light from their soul.  Sometimes, if they pleased him he let them keep that light, other times he snuffed it out like he would an ant under his feet.

 

She looked at HIM and she felt an awful, animal fear.  This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t be real.  There were laws against this….rules that had been put in place to protect women…….women like her….she’d always worked so hard to be in total control of everyone and everything around her…..  But it was and he was, and as he slowly approached her bed like the Prince of Darkness, it was then that her intellect fled and her emotions took over.  She had always made her living with her mind and she despised those that lost their heads and panic’d under pressure.  But to even her too, eventually a situation had arisen where her mind was of no use and she felt only panic and fear---she was truly feeling for the first time a woman’s deepest fear of being forced to accept inside her a stranger like him, and then there was the dread of the physical damage an abnormally developed monster like him would cause her. 

 

A beautiful woman from a supportive and caring family; an intelligent, educated and progressive woman with an extremely successful career in law---none of this mattered anymore.  She knew that she had spent so many years of her life learning how to manipulate the system to her advantage and how to use it to reward or punish others.  It was always the system from which she’d derived both her strength and her power.  Many of her ‘victims’ thought her a bitch of the first order and she suddenly understood that now it was payback time for all of the pain that she’d caused others; now it was her turn to experience that which she thought she’d left long behind her; the helplessness of the weak, the absence of the network of civilized laws and beliefs that have developed over the last several thousand years to protect the vulnerable. 

 

But this time it was so much worse than anyone could have ever imagined.  Like a cork on the ocean, she’d been forcibly carried into a new world in which she had absolutely no control.  And yet the act that she knew that she was soon to be forced to experience was as old as time itself; this scene had played itself out for millennium in culture after culture, but always under a set of laws different from that of civilization---these were the ‘jungle rules’---and in the jungle, a single female alone was always dominated and eventually owned by an overpowering male presence.

 

Like a terrified rabbit in a trap, she watched him come closer and closer.  There was no softness in him anywhere and no mercy in his eyes.  But no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t do anything to stop him or to free herself.  She’d always been able to control everything before, especially where men were concerned.  Men were so easy to control, so easy to manipulate….if only she could talk to him……reason with him.  But she’d been gagged and this took away her persuasiveness and her logic, what would be her most useful tools here.

 

She heard him say something else, but it didn’t click at the moment because she was still trembling before his power and her fear of his maleness was radiating away from her like heat.

 

The muffled screaming soon began; it carried out over the water for quite a distance, but no one was there to hear except the sea birds.  The dulled sounds first forced from Victoria’s aunt’s throat by the big man began as harsh and inarticulate shrieks and screams of fear and pain and rage.  Within less than a day these cries of rebellion were turned by the remainder of her captors into the more muted grunts and groans of a freshly recruited slut that, while beginning to see the value of acting as if tamed by her trainers, was yet to be actually broken to accepting the harness of total sexual bondage. 

 

The men loved to sit on deck and listen to the changing sounds coming from these women’s throats as they finally began accepting the requirements of their new life.  And so, over the course of the following days and weeks, the emanations coming from this beautiful woman’s mouth changed again from the gasps of a proud and dignified woman being sexually humiliated and tortured to the softer mewling and begging and crying noises of a woman who had been broken, and who knew that her only purpose in life now was to please her Master and the men around her. 

 

These were the sounds of a mature woman that knew all too well what she had been forced to give up and what she now faced for the foreseeable future.  These were the sounds of a conceited and arrogant bitch that had finally been taught that each and every one of us has a master, and that we all should only pray that we never meet him.  But all of these sounds too were dampened by the humid Gulf waters surrounding the hellboat.  Within a few weeks after that her training was finished and she was brought home for the first time.

 

***

 

It had been fifteen months since he’d taken me.  I was being driven in a jeep over a rough trail to another small village.  My Master owned over 40,000 acres stretching from Caribbean beaches in the east into the western part of the San Jose Province of Costa Rica.  There were at least six small villages on his property and this was the third one that I’d visited in the last four months for a ‘shopping’ expedition.  I was familiar with the term ‘middens’ now and these places definitely qualified.  I was scheduled to visit one village every two months and apparently my Master had one other female slave that alternated ‘shopping trips’ with me.  The Master trusted us both now and this meant that every village was graced with a visit from one or the other of his pleasure slaves at least twice a year.  Master would do anything to keep his ‘serfs’ happy.

 

I now knew that my life wasn’t a fairy tale romance where the heroine realizes her undying love for the hero after he’s finished with her.  There were no heroes or heroines in my story and there would be no happy endings here, forever after or otherwise.  I couldn’t imagine living with HIM, but I couldn’t imagine my world without HIM.  I needed HIM.  It was unspeakably selfish, but it was honest.  I needed HIM.

 

I was known only as M now, or “Slave”.  I found that I embraced my new life with a passion; I’d adopted and accepted my new name as part of that new life.  I knew that I’d been manipulated by HIM, but that really didn’t matter.  For in the end, I’d come out of my shell and entered a different world, a new world entirely of HIS making and it was only fitting that I embraced HIS name for me too.  All he’d done was move forward the time at which I would have had to choose between my true nature and what I had mistakenly believed as a child.  There were times that I watched the earlier movies made of me on the boat and I could only shake my head at the naiveté shown by that young girl.  How obvious it was in hindsight that I had fought my true nature with every breath I took.  But I’d come home now and that was all that mattered.

 

I had come to love the lingerie that initially I’d been forced to wear.  HE no longer made me wear it or the high heels, but I often did anyway just to please HIM.  I loved the way it felt on me and the way it made me look.  I loved the feeling of the stockings on my legs and the look of them as they were supported by my garters.  I liked the way the high heels I wore all the time now made my legs look.  I took more care with my makeup now and when he was with me during the day, I did my best to look enticing for him, dressing like the most beautiful models that I saw on TV.  At night, I always tried to dress like the slut he wanted me to be, wearing the sexiest and flimsiest items that I could find.  To me, sex was finally something special---and while not always necessarily intimate, I was comfortable with it and with what I was. 

 

I was with someone now that treated me the way I needed to be treated and I’d found that I responded to his roughness with great desire.  I wanted to have sex with HIM all the time.  Because of HIM, I’d finally been forced to open up and discover what was always waiting inside me---and now I was ready to have sex with any man---but only if HE commanded me.  I’d found out that I liked the male body; I just liked everything about a man.  I liked men’s firm, muscular arms and legs that were so unlike mine.  I liked to grab men’s asses, to feel the great muscles there.  I liked men’s hard bellies—and if he had that beautiful treasure that ended below---that was all I cared about.

 

***

 

Wolf slowly let himself into the woman’s bedroom.  She lay on the bed and as was often her custom, she wore only the red high heels that were similar to those he had first given her upon her arrival..  Upon his entry, she stretched and gave him a soft smile.  At first, he’d beaten her unmercifully for not being more respectful, but she only seemed thrive on being hit.  This woman had a huge desire for and an incredible capacity to accept pain.  He knew that under his tutelage she’d looked deeply inside herself and found a bottomless capacity for pain that could only be filled her Master’s blows.

 

He walked over and looked down on her.  The insides of her thighs, her belly and her breasts were all bruised from where he’d hit her, but she only demanded more from him.  This had been a proud and arrogant woman, but she had been completely tamed and humbled by he and his crew.  Her pride and dignity had disappeared with her first realization that the whore she’d hidden for so long inside her had demanded to be let out.  Her conceit about being above the vagaries of life and her arrogance over her place in the hierarchy of male/female relationships, both were gone now.  They had been replaced by the acceptance of her new life as being the lowest of the low, available to any man or woman. 

 

No one would ever know that this was an exceptionally well educated woman.  The men on the boat had been amazed; once she’d realized her true nature, there was nothing that she wouldn’t do for them.  She’d looked fabulous as they dressed her up, appearing on the outside like the most sophisticated of wealthy women.  But in the cabin of the boat and lying upon that bed, she’d acted like the most wanton of whores, greedily consuming every awful thing they did to her and often demanding more from them. 

 

The other thing about her was her incredible ability to take being fucked by massive cocks in both her pussy and in her ass.  To not only take it, but to love and demand it from him.  It truly was amazing---this woman was all pussy and ass, and he had never seen another quite like her.  She’d fought the anal love-making at first, perhaps because there was no love involved.  But eventually the more they hurt her this way, the more she wanted it.  And finally, she’d been stretched until she could accept any man including him, and still get pleasure from the encounter.  She might fight him at times but it was all role-playing, for this was a woman that had been well taught to like being sexually humiliated as well as being beaten on a regular basis.

 

He slowly dropped between her widely spread knees and as he began to take her for the third time in the last two hours, he thought to himself how profoundly pleased he was with both of his current pleasure sluts.  So many women came through his hands that he could always afford to be incredibly picky about his personal sluts, and these two were spectacular.  So different, but yet so similar.  The genetics of this one’s family must be amazing.  And with that last thought, he thrust smoothly and massively into Victoria’s aunt Samantha.

 

***

 

Georges hit an especially rough piece of trail and the open top jeep began bouncing all over the place.  My long blonde hair flew loose behind me in wind-blown disarray.  I reached up and grabbed the roll bar with both hands to stabilize myself, but this allowed my breasts to be thrown all over the jeep.  If possible, my nipple chain seemed to be pulling the piercings out of both of my tits at the same time.  Grimacing in frustration and no little pain, I put my arms back down over my chest and raised my feet up on the dash, where I was able to push in and keep myself braced in the seat.

 

It had been six months since I’d had my baby, but Master had not yet granted me the privilege of naming him.  For the first month, ‘baby’ had slept in my arms, but no more.  Master did, however, allow me to spend one hour a day during the week with the infant and three hours on the weekend; that was enough to keep me happy.  He’d not allowed me to breast feed because he didn’t want me to have stretch marks on my breasts.  In the same way, he’d ensured that his staff kept my abdomen well-oiled while I was pregnant to avoid marking what he jokingly referred to as ‘his property.’  Master knew that he now had a permanent hold on me, and that I could no more abandon my baby and leave him than I could stop the sun from rising. 

 

I’d gained thirty pounds during my pregnancy, but with hard work and good genes I’d been able to throw off most of the effects of giving birth within a month.  I had my trim waist back now and Master had me on birth control.  While he didn’t particularly want anymore children from his women, instead of getting me fixed, he told that my next owner might want to impregnate me himself if I had been purchased as a ‘breeder’.

 

My baby was beautiful.  Medium brown skin, fairly straight black hair and jade green eyes.  Six weeks after I’d given birth, another baby had been delivered at his mansion, but this one was a girl.  This baby looked much like my son in that she had the same color skin and hair, and oddly enough, the same color eyes.  The staff passed rumors to me this baby’s mother was my Master’s other pleasure slave, although the mansion was so large that I had never seen her. 

 

That’s not true, I corrected myself.  Actually, I’ve been with her numerous times, but we’ve just never been introduced nor had I seen her face.  Master had given me an exquisite black discipline hood made of the softest Spanish leather soon after my arrival.  When wearing this hood, one breathed through a small cutout area around the nostrils, but one was totally blind.  If the three inch penis gag that came with the hood was inserted into one’s mouth, one could not speak.  If the ear pieces were inserted, one could not hear.  I wore this hood a lot to please Master and soon came to love the smell of sweat and saliva mixed with the aroma of its fine leather. 

 

One day when I was only two months pregnant and had only the smallest of bellies, Master had brought this other pleasure slave into the play room off of my bedroom.  He told me that this was ‘B’.  It was clear that Master had had two hoods made, for this woman was wearing one identical to mine except that hers was a rich red color, the deep dark red of wet blood.  I took that opportunity to review my competition with a practiced eye.  B’s arms were bound high behind her back with her forearms and hands encased in a single red leather sleeve.  This sleeve was tightly connected by a small, yet ornate chain to the discipline hood after her arms had been pulled up high on her back.  She was helpless.

 

B was naked except for her hood, arm sleeve and red pumps with four inch stiletto heels.  She had a gorgeous body, with long and slender, yet shapely legs; obviously, B had danced sometime in the past.  Her calves were shapely by nature, but were made even more so by the heels that she wore.  Her thighs were well muscled and her ass was firm and high.  But her perfection was marred by a series of bruises on the insides of her thighs that centered on her genitals.  He had obviously beaten her severely with his fists sometime recently.  When he turned her, I could also see that she had been marked by the whip on the back of her thighs, her ass and the small of her back.  As with me, her waist at that time was still small.  But both of us would soon balloon with our Master’s seed having taken root inside. 

 

Like me, B too had a bikini wax that left her vagina nude except for a thin strip of curly hair.  But unlike me, she had multiple rings piercing both of her labia.  Her hair was pulled up inside her hood, but judging from the dark blonde color of her remaining pubic hair, she was a natural blonde.  Her breasts were large for her frame and had small aureoles, while each dark pink nipple was pierced by a large golden ring and each ring was connected by a chain similar to my own.  But even though an experienced pleasure slave that had been pierced and was bound, this woman still seemed to hold herself with pride and even dignity; between her natural bearing and her arms pinned in the sleeve in back, she held her shoulders back and her breasts jutted out fearlessly from her chest without support. 

 

She was unaware of my presence.  Master led this unfamiliar female into my play room and tied her without struggle on her back with her legs in a spread eagled position onto the low, padded bed there---B was very submissive at this point.  Next, he’d ordered me to slowly caress the woman’s body all the while I was to talk to her, whispering into her ear, attempting to calm her with my reassurances.  But in this, no matter how often we have been brought together since that first time, I have never been successful.  B could obviously hear me because that first time, she made a startled movement when I began to talk to her and she then began to struggle mightily against her bonds.  But she never could free herself. 

 

Our interactions together never changed early on.  She must have known that I was our Master’s other pleasure slave and resented me for it.  She would always go berserk in her attempts to free herself as I slowly licked her breasts and the sweaty naked skin between her legs.  Eventually, Master always had to hold B’s shoulders down.  When I eventually began tonguing and eating this woman’s pussy, no matter how I had tried to calm her fears, B would cry in what must be her rage and frustration with me.

 

Master had also given me a strap-on dildo to use on this slave; it was an enormous black rubber affair and I was afraid of hurting her.  It was far larger than anything that I could comfortably take, but Master assured me that B loved it inside her and so I obeyed.  This had been my first time to use one of these and I was always looking at Master to ensure that I was doing everything right.  Since the other woman was already tied to the bed, I laid down on top of her and after taking a moment to tell her about what I was going to do to her so that she wasn’t surprised, I plunged the giant piece of hard rubber into her already moist pussy with one move of my hips. 

 

B went berserk again, arching her body and bucking like a wild mare, attempting to throw me off of her hips and belly.  But as others had done to me so many times in the recent past, I just centered my weight on the other woman’s hips and held on to her asscheeks for the ride.  Soon B became less physical in her struggles and began to quiet down as her need for air increased; soon we both were covered with sweat and finally, I was able to completely take this woman as my Master demanded. 

 

This sight, of me fucking B with a giant strap-on dildo, he seemed to enjoy immensely.  I lay between her widespread legs with the dildo buried from sight inside her vagina and my weight was heavy upon her as I kept my head buried in the left side of her neck and my left ear near her nose.  I could easily hear her breathing as its tempo increased with the movements of my hips.  It took a long time, but I was finally able to make this unknown woman cum and then cum a second time.  Again, strangely, she cried after this.  If she always acted like this with my Master, why would he keep her around?

 

Master allowed us to rest for a short while, then he had me help him take B off of the couch and force her face down on a foam rubber cushion laying on the floor.  Once her ankles had been freed from the bed, she struggled against us.  It took both of us to finally subdue her and this was difficult for me because I was still wearing the strap-on dildo.  Even with her being bound and there being two of us, she put up a mighty struggle.  But in the end we prevailed---for as I have learned, he ALWAYS wins in the end.  With me sitting on her lower back, he was able to grab B’s ankles and finally spread her long legs, binding them to the ends of a metal bar that was about four feet long. 

 

With her again immobilized, he told me to ‘fuck her in the ass’ with the dildo.  I really didn’t want to do this, but Master was insistent.  B could hear him and knew exactly what he was saying to me.  Even hooded and with her arms bound high on her back and laying on her stomach with her legs tied far apart, she still tried to struggle against her fate. 

 

I was surprised at the amount of vaginal fluids secreted by B when I first took her with the dildo and was able to use these to now lubricate the rubber cock again.  Crawling once again between her thighs but now from the other side, I reached down to spread B’s cheeks and then I looked at her anus.  It looked just like I knew mine looked, so I knew that Master had re-sized this woman for himself too just as he’d done to me.  Soon both B and I were slick with sweat from our struggles and B was still providing a distraction, shaking her head back and forth, and moving her hips and rear in an attempt to make my target more difficult to hit; all the while a continuous stream of mewling and pleading noises were coming through from her gag. 

 

I remember every detail of the small smile that he had on his face as he heard me keep repeating in her ears, “Don’t make me hurt you.  Please relax and don’t make me hurt you.”  Keeping B’s firm asscheeks spread wide open with my left hand, I finally hunched my hips and guided the rigid piece of rubber with my right, tentatively beginning the first moves that would result in planting the huge artificial cock totally inside this other woman.  Finally, it was done and I was a couple of inches inside my new lover. 

 

Even held down by Master and with my weight on her back, B had given out muffled screams and had fought me every step of the way.  It was obvious that B was a proud woman that was being forced against her wishes to accept being anally trained again---or punished.  Once I had slowly forced my way past B’s sphincter, things began to go much more smoothly for both of us.  As more and more of the giant rod entered her ass, B had struggled less and less.  When I finally had pushed almost all of the ten or eleven inches into her ass, the woman was lying quiescent beneath me.  Her anus had blossomed to perfectly fit the punishing rubber cylinder that I now offered and her rectum appeared to accept it without difficulty.  B was now frozen beneath me and there were no more struggles.  I knew that I too would have laid still at this point, since this great, brutish thing would have broken me in half.  She either had given up and was accepting everything I did, or she was in so much pain that she was afraid to move; I wasn’t sure which.

 

On Master’s order, I now hooked my toes against the bar that forced B’s ankles so far apart and I pushed against it, thus allowing me to use my thigh muscles as I began taking long, slow, even, deep strokes into my reluctant lover’s body.  Eventually, and despite what appeared to be her best efforts at not responding, the other female slave finally began to warm to me, moving in reaction to my slow measured moves in and out of her body.  I was amazed that this woman could not only accept something this large inside herself, but had even somehow been taught to enjoy it.  What must she have gone through to reach this point?  By the end, the woman on the bottom had been giving muffled screams of what must have been encouragement and was pushing her pelvis up and grinding her buttocks into my groin in anticipation of the next thrust. 

 

Finally, B had cum again and I was finished, or so I thought.  However, Master had me stand up and after removing the strap-on, he had me straddle B’s back and urinate on her.  I was mortified to be doing this to another person, but Master insisted and so I complied.  The woman between my legs just laid there and accepted the humiliating shower. 

 

After this, he freed B by releasing her ankles from the bar.  But B laid there for a minute without moving and then her shoulders starting shaking.  At first it was a small movement, but soon I could hear great heaving muffled sobs coming from within the hood.  I felt so bad about what I had done to this woman, but I knew in truth that I’d had no choice.  I also knew that she might be doing this to me tomorrow.  None of us here, except my Master, has any choices at all except to honor his will, whatever that may be. 

 

Pulling on the top of her hood, he made her climb to her feet unassisted and this was difficult for her since she was still wearing the red pumps with the four inch heels.  But now her legs were weak and her knees trembled either from all of her efforts at fighting me or perhaps because of enjoyment at what I had done to her; in any case, she could barely walk.  Her shoulders were slumped and they shook as she still cried beneath her hood of blood red.  Even though I know that this is only my imagination, even her breasts seemed to sag now, hanging lower on her chest as if dejected.  Master had finally led the poor hooded slave away and a little troubled, I had gone on with my daily routine as a blank faced maid quickly entered and cleaned up the tile floor.

 

I knew that I had raped and sodomized the new pleasure slave upon my Master’s command and this I did not like.  When I was a child on the hellboat and before I had known myself, I too had been repeatedly raped and sodomized---I knew exactly what this did to a person.  The only thing that helped me through this time with B was my prayer that she’d realized that I had no more choice in this than she; and the forlorn hope that perhaps, at the end, that she had somehow enjoyed our sex together.

 

Before we both gave birth to his infants, we had been brought together numerous times after that first hooded introduction, and I was never able to see my mystery lover’s face.  Sometimes she fought Master when he lead her into my play room, while on other occasions she seemed resigned to her fate as she was tied to my bed.  Always, however much she might initially have fought me, she responded enthusiastically to our sex in the end.  However reluctant my mysterious lover might have been initially, I know too in my heart that in the end she wanted me to do this to her.  I have been with other women at my Master’s command since then, and I have enjoyed these times.  But I must admit that for some unknown reason, I had always been troubled by my times with B and have never myself yet achieved any kind of real sexual release with her.

 

But Master assures me that this will change.  My giving birth to ‘baby’ changed me as a woman.  It opened my eyes to many things about which I had previously been unaware.  It seems that this event too has changed B.  Master led B into my playroom for the first time a month after she had given birth and she appeared a new woman.  Wearing her familiar leather hood and arm sleeve, she now almost pranced in a red bustier that left her full breasts pushed up and bare, and she wore a garter and sheer stockings that matched her red heels. 

 

I too was dressed differently at the desire of my Master.  With my long hair done up in a bun, wide severe black leather straps now crossed my body, emphasizing my buttocks and my breasts, barely covering my nipples; sheer black hose that were held up by a thin leather garter and black leather boots that went up to mid-thigh and which had five inch stiletto heels---all of these I wear now when with B to please Master.  When I strap on the huge dildo, I know that I look very frightening.

 

There is no defiance left in her anymore.  B willingly enters into our lovemaking, exhibiting a wantonness now that surprises even me.  She demonstrates her desire for both my rubber dildo and I, beginning as soon as he leads her into my playroom; she walks with exaggerated movements of her hips and pelvis, and thrusts her breasts at me.  I no longer have to tie her down or her legs apart.  Without coercion of any type, she voluntarily consents to all that I do to her now at his command---no, this is not totally right, this is not exactly what I sense about her now. 

 

She has now discovered a profound need that demands these things that I do to her---and I sense in some way that it is me that she desires doing these things to her and not just anyone.  I somehow feel that she has abandoned any attempts to control her most intimate needs and that there is an inner compulsion that now drives her to seek out domination by me; and that this desire of hers for me requires periodic relief just as much as she craves HIS mastery and control.  I know that what I feel about B may not be logical, but it is what my intuition tells me.

 

The sight of us together always seems to bring Master great enjoyment.  I am ever pleased to see him smile and laugh, but I find it strange that it is always we two that bring him such great pleasure.  He never gags me, but always gags my mysterious lover when we are together.  This I find odd, except unless it is her duty to always please him while muffled and mine is to do so while free.  I still hate the gag.  But Master no longer uses the gag on me very much now, preferring instead to hear me give full throat to the pain he renders either in my playroom or on my bed.  Only when he has had a bad day or is in a foul mood does he bring out the gag and then I know that it is my duty is to give him the pleasure and the release that he seeks.  In this, I try to do my best, but for some psychological reason I find it more difficult to accept and accommodate the pain that he offers me when I’m wearing his gag.  Sometimes though, even this difficulty of mine seems to give him joy and delight.  However, I have learned to not question or second-guess my Master, and the lessons were painful.

 

Master has recently assured me that soon, very soon, B’s hood will be off and that we will each then assume new positions in our relationship.  He tells me that I will be to B what he is to me.  That I will be taught to use the whip and the cane, the rope and the clamp and the pliers---and that she will learn to serve me as we both serve him.  While I admit that I do at times get pleasure in making this unknown woman cum for me, this pleasure is not sexual but rather is more due to being able to so easily dominate her now.  However, I do not feel that I will enjoy becoming this familiar with her and with making these kinds of demands upon her mind and body.  For this is a woman with a dark side to her that in ways makes me uncomfortable.  As such, I would prefer that our contacts remain intermittent and that she continue to be anonymous.

 

While I was inexperienced when my Master acquired me, I was not a complete novice.  I knew what a Dominatrix was and I knew that he was preparing me for that role with B.  This was not something with which I was comfortable.  Obviously, I could not tell him this, but I think that he knew anyway.  This situation must have troubled me more than I had realized because that first night after I had dressed for my new role, I had a nightmare. 

 

I was in a room and I felt as if all of my surroundings, my whole life in fact, were illusions recorded on a series of slides.  And now someone had changed the slide.  There was no dizziness or disorientation.  Suddenly I was there, standing in a meadow, ankle deep in grass that was soft and blue-green under a cloudless sky.  A stream flowed by to my left and its sound was magnified in the still air, peaceful, as it rolled over the stones in its bed.  The meadow stretched on forever as if the world were flat and there were no horizon.  I could feel no sensation in my body or in my feet.  It was as if I floated or lived only in my mind.  I heard no sound---in fact, there was no sound in this meadow.  I was suddenly aware of clouds in the sky, or in my mind; I could not tell which.  But they were there, dark and foreboding, cooling the air.  There was a feeling of evil in the air, of impending violence.  Oddly enough, I found this exciting in a new and different way. 

 

Nevertheless, I knew that someone was there, just behind me.  I turned and she was there.  There was now a woman standing by the stream, staring at me.  I could not understand where she had come from, for the meadow was open and stretched empty for what seemed an eternity.  Nevertheless she was there and she was interested in me.  She took a few steps forward and I sucked in my breath. 

 

The woman by the stream was me, but she was the exact opposite of me.  This woman’s face was etched in cruelty and while she was astoundingly beautiful, it was the beauty of the hooded cobra or the well tied hangman’s noose.  Her jet black hair was pulled back severely, framing her face in a mask of evil.  She was dressed all in black, in garments that might have been wet rubber.  Her breasts surged beneath her top, pointing straight out so that one could imagine their nipples cutting and tearing any who would touch them.  Her legs were encased in sheer black nylons and her black pumps glistened.  In her hand she held the butt of a whip which snaked out over the grass in front of her, lighting and smoking the blades where it touched.

 

Suddenly, the woman opened her mouth and let out a soundless scream that I could hear in my mind.  I started as she broke into a run, coming directly at me, her whip uncoiling behind her, ready to lash out at my skin.  I held up my arm as if to ward off a blow, but then I realized that the woman was moving in slow motion, jumping and gliding at a gradual pace as she crossed the meadow.  I was immensely relieved for, though I was tremendously excited at the way her breasts bounced as she ran, I did not want to be injured.

 

Suddenly, the woman in black was intercepted in the center of the meadow by a woman dressed all in white.  All motion now returned to normal.  But somehow, even as they began to fight, I knew that this other was me too.  But this was the me that had existed before I had been taken by my Master, an innocent child compared to what I was now. 

 

The woman in black was kicking out with her needle pointed shoes, but the other leaped and dodged like a gazelle, always out of reach.  The tip of the whip lashed out and touched the woman in white on the breast, leaving an ugly purple welt.  Then they were locked together, wrestling to the ground.  They ripped and they tore at each other.  The woman in white seemed untouched, but the other’s garments were torn and shredded.  Black garters and the ribbed tops of her stockings stood out against the stark white flesh of her thighs.  Her breasts seemed to leap and dart across her chest as she struggled with the woman in white.

 

They tumbled back and forth on the grass, beating at each other, kneeing at every sensitive area of the other’s body.  They rose to their feet and while still locked in each other’s embrace, finally toppled over into the stream.  The water from the stream rose into the air, hovered for an eternity and then fell slowly back. 

 

They were out of sight, but then rose from the water a moment later.  They were still locked in each other’s arms, but this time their embrace had a different quality; it was an embrace of passion.  The water had not only cleansed them, but it had miraculously healed them too.  Both bodies were now devoid of clothing, and shown white and clean from across the meadow. 

 

The legs of the two women were now intertwined and their hips moved back and forth furiously.  Suddenly, the women sank to the ground out of sight.  I tensed, then hurried to the stream.  They were nowhere to be seen.  I started to cry, not for what I had seen, but for what I had lost.  And then I awoke.

 

This dream has many potent meanings and I think that my unconscious mind is certainly trying to tell me something.  Perhaps it tells me that I have reached a critical point in my life; a point where I have the choice of either staying as I am or of becoming a darker version of myself.  And all of this depends upon whether I allow myself to delve too deeply into the seductive embrace of the Dominatrix.

 

Maybe my subconscious is telling me that darkness and light already exist inside me and that I need to open myself to my mysterious lover in red.  And that only by willingly giving her what she so desperately craves from me, will I be able to marry together the two separate sides within me and save myself.

 

Possibly, my crimson lover is represented in my dream by the woman in black.  But why then would she have my face?  And why was I excited in my dream by the thought of impending violence myself and myself?  Perhaps this dream is telling me that my crimson lover is more like me than I could ever know?  And that we share the same likes and dislikes, the desires and needs?  That the violence that she needs and that which I do to her, in reality stimulates us both?  Although I do not believe this interpretation, if this is the case then I have done her a disservice. 

 

I have asked the servants who this mystery woman was and what she looked like.  But all of them would look at each other in confusion and scurry off or pretend that they hadn’t understood my question.  Eventually, I stopped asking any questions about B.

 

For me, the most odd time had been when Master had brought us together when we were both seven or eight months pregnant.  Master had enjoyed seeing us spoon on a bed with each other, with pregnant belly extended and ground into the small of the back of another pregnant belly.  Even then, at eight months pregnant, I had loved this woman from the rear as we both lay on our sides.  Again, she had fought me and Master’s help was required to subdue her.  And as before, after her initial reluctance had faded, B had enthusiastically taken part in the sex between us and seemed to thoroughly enjoy being filled by the giant rubber phallus that I wore.

 

There was other gossip about this slave woman.  It was rumored that life between my Master and this pleasure slave was lived in her bedroom; and it was like re-living the great battles of World War II.  Much screaming and fighting, and both the giving and receiving of great pain always preceding the main event in which they fucked their brains out, never leaving the bed for half a day.  I wasn’t particularly jealous of this other slave because Master always made sure that I too was kept satisfied. 

 

There was hearsay that B was also greatly in love with being hurt and that Master took great pleasure in the pain that he gave her.  These things I believe about her.  Even though I had never earned the dungeon, the other slave had moments of awesome rebellion in which she screamed terrible insults at my Master; she was heard through the door screaming ‘was that all he had?’ and that ‘he was too old to satisfy a real woman.’  I would never dream of doing this to Master and knew that he was correct to beat B for behaving so badly. 

 

The consequences of her misbehavior were severe and I knew that this was a woman that had a deep capacity to enjoy her punishments; that she had been taught by our Master to deeply appreciate and love both the pain and anguish that he offered her, even more so than I.  I have gone through much myself in the last few months and even though I try not to judge others, I feel that she was almost demented in this aspect.  She has pursued this outcome at great cost to herself and I admit that I do not understand this.  He gives me pain and I accept it because of my love for Master, but I feel that she greedily consumes this pain, actually gorging herself upon it as if at a buffet because it fills a need with which she was born.  According to the staff, she seems to have an unending desire for the pain inflicted by HIM and an almost infinite capacity to accept it.  While curious about her, I also knew that there must be emotional issues too; something must have been inherently flawed with this woman from the outset to have had from the beginning this bottomless need to be hurt by a man. 

 

Again, I try not to be judgmental, but anyone that pursues anguish like this to the exclusion of all else; that has this one-dimensional and almost inexhaustible capacity of being groomed to accept more and more pain and who was yet able to keep so focused on this single aspect of her existence; this person was not right in the head.  What would it have been like to be around this woman in a previous incarnation?  It was impossible to tell anything about this woman’s history; no tattoos, no scars, nothing that gave her away as being either genteel lady of the house or from biker slut from the gutter. 

 

But you can’t hide this sort of maladjusted psyche from those around you---something would always give her away.  Back in my old world, a woman like this would have been…..distasteful, and we would have avoided her like the plague.  But she merits his attentions; and I’m glad that HE found her and that he gives her what she needs.  She desires him and she deserves him.  But she is so different from me---perhaps the fact that Master has two totally different types of pleasure slaves is what keeps him so happy all the time?

 

The pain that my Master specialized in giving this slave was also what kept her a sexual dynamo, the servants whispered.  When he conquered her and she finally gave in to him, and according to the staff she was always defeated in the end, their sex was something about which epic poems might someday be written.  And when he had been with her for hours and hours and was finally ready to leave her bloody and bruised, and exhausted and worn out in her bed, they would hear her beg him to stay, to give her still more.

 

But late at night when he was not sharing her bed, they also heard her softly crying as if for what she had been forced to leave behind.  Somehow, I sensed that if this other slave hadn’t meant something very special to my Master, he would have sold her by now.

 

I do not look forward to a new, more intimate relationship with this strange woman.

 

***

 

Master continues to test me, confirming to himself and bringing out ever more of the submissive in me.  He would sometimes make me prove my devotion to him by wearing nothing beneath my dress, and at odd times he would tell me to lift it and show him my most private and cherished prizes in front of others.  He would sometimes take me to cantinas in the closest villages and he would take great delight in forcing me to display myself in public places, where the anticipation of discovery would make my heart race and my face turn red. 

 

There was a small, almost deserted chapel that was about half an hours walk from the mansion.  The priest that tended this chapel was an old man that had been there for over twenty years; he knew exactly what the Master did.  But in his extended time there, he’d also developed a taste for the younger female members of his native flock.  This, and the five gallons of dark rum that Master sent over to the chapel once a month ensured that the priest continued ministering to the group without saying anything to the authorities.  However, the priest never missed a chance to condemn him to the few that attended his Mass.

 

Once late on a Wednesday afternoon, Master took it a step further.  He made me wear a loose native blouse and long skirt while I accompanied him to the empty chapel.  There he made me bend over and pull my skirt up and show him my naked bottom.  Stepping in against me, he took me in the rear on the spot.  Afterwards, I found myself filled with exhilaration and adoration, and I was wet for him for the rest of the day.

 

The location didn’t bother him, for the Master didn’t much believe in revealed religions.

 

***

 

Running my fingers inside my fine Italian leather collar, I looked down at my tanned bare legs and grimaced.  I was not particularly looking forward to this trip---it was another of his dramatic, overly large gestures in which I was again forced to ‘prove’ my ultimate submissiveness.  While I thought it crazy, if this was what he desired then I would willingly do it.

 

Master had me wearing what I called my ‘Dukes of Hazard’ outfit.  Tight faded denim cut-off’s that barely covered the cheeks of my rear, a ‘fuck-me’ blouse that left my mid-rift and shoulders bare.  No panties or bra and of course a pair of high heeled mules to complete the costume. 

 

I’d found out the first time I’d been sent shopping that there was more on the agenda than buying fruit and vegetables---I had to earn the coin with which to make his purchases.  Master had set it up so that Georges delivered me to a small room in the village which contained only a bed and a wash stand upon which sat a warm pitcher of water.  Every male in the village, from twelve to seventy had been told that they could ‘spend time with me’ and men had been coming in from far and wide to participate.  Master had ensured that rumors were spread and the male population of the village had apparently doubled overnight in anticipation of arrival of the beautiful Norte Americano who would be freely giving away of her charms. 

 

There had only been two rules for the villagers: I was not to be harmed or marked in anyway, and this included biting, slapping or hitting; and that all of the men were to be clean of any diseases.  One reason that the villagers adored him was that he would always have a doctor visit each village one day a week.  It was the first time that these people had ever had consistent medical care and it immediately bonded them to him.  It also allowed him to maintain a vigilant eye on the health of village inhabitants.  Thus, he knew for sure that the men were all healthy.  But in all honesty, I’m not sure that he cared whether or not the men were clean.  If I came down with an STD, I think that he might miss me but I knew too that I would quickly be gone from his sight forever. 

 

Unfortunately, one man had hit me twice in the throes of sexual passion.  I truly had not minded, in fact I had responded even more to his aggressive attentions.  But Georges hadn’t even let us finish, immediately dragging him off of me and out into the low jungle where he shot him; everyone from that point on had obeyed my Master’s rules explicitly.

 

I had initially been unaware of my role to play there, but had assumed it willingly—for this was what Master had desired of me.  I’d lost count, but conservatively thought that I must have had sex with somewhere between thirty five and fifty men that day.  It took me hours and hours.  I’d sucked and fucked all day and when finished, I’d drained of seed every male villager that was willing to bed me. 

 

Originally Georges would only let one man be alone with me at a time and I’d become impatient---it was taking too long.  To speed things up, I’d told Georges to let in more at one time.  By the end, all three of my body’s openings were filled at the same time and I had two more in my hands.  I’d been in slut heaven that day.

 

I’d not realized what was to happen on my first visit to one of these villages, so I’d wasted the little water that was in the pitcher and had not known to bring along a small towel like I had today.  This way, when I had finally worn out the last man in the village, I could clean myself off a little before I went into the market and purchased what was on Master’s list. 

 

I thought back to that first visit to a village and even now I was still a little embarrassed.  The village men had cum in my hair and all over my face.  Their semen had been rubbed into my belly and pussy and rear, and was draining out of me on the insides of my thighs.  I’d probably swallowed a quart of their syrupy juice that day.  I was sore front and rear from all of the sex I’d both given and taken, and I’d done the best I could to clean myself up afterwards.  But it’d been necessary for me to walk stiffly and unwashed into the village square, covered from head to foot with the sticky, drying semen of their men; I’d had to walk by woman after woman, mother after daughter, wife after sister. 

 

They’d glared at me and they’d turned their backs to me.  Some hissed at me like a snake and two had spit at me.  I had maintained my poise at that moment, but it was all a façade.  Unfortunately, what I needed to buy had to be purchased from the men that I’d just fucked; somehow that had been even worse.  While there were no overt actions---they were too smart for that---they’d puckered their lips at me, made soft kissing sounds and other, worse motions with their hands and their hips.  It was clear what they thought of me now.  I wasn’t virgin and exotic anymore, but rather completely explored territory that had been fully plowed and which was now to be cast off as barren and worthless.

 

But it really didn’t matter to me anymore---I knew that they’d want me again when I came back to them the next time I was here to ‘shop.’  I knew what I was—I’d had to choose and in the end, I’d chosen as I must, as my nature dictated.  HE had known long before I’d finally realized the basic truth about myself; that I needed someone running my life for me.  I was my Master’s whore---AND his slut. 

 

I was twenty-one years old now.  I was an intelligent woman, a loving mother and willing slave to my Master’s needs and desires---this was my truth and my reality.  Other than the brand and the nipple piercings that I had been given that first day on the boat, he would not allow my body to be permanently marred or marked in any way.  Of course, this didn’t include the various bruises and temporary marks of ownership left by HIM when he shared with me his need to bring pain to our relationship.  I had grown accustomed; no, I had grown to need his pain.  This was my gift to him.

 

It had taken me months, but I had finally been able to admit to myself what I really was.  God, was I his slut!  I loved fucking him.  I gloried in fucking him.  I looked down at my lap.  Even now, the lips of my vagina and the muscles on the insides of my upper thighs ached; they actually physically ACHED to have him inside me, to fill me and extend me and to render me helpless before him when he was done with my body. 

 

I was always waiting for more from him, I couldn’t get enough now.  I needed his essence, I’d shoot it into my veins if I could.  I found myself dressing up in sexy clothes and waiting for him everywhere now, hoping to lead him to my bed. 

 

I hadn’t worn the last butt plug in months; with that rubber monstrosity fitted inside me, he’d ensured that I’d eventually been sized just right for him and now he routinely took me that way three or four times a week.  He was so big that it still hurt me when he entered my body, but I loved the way he gave me the pain, the way he filled my insides and the way he controlled my total physical being when he rode me.  He laughed now when he ‘drilled and filled’ me, but I had come to anticipate with pleasure the way that I felt my abdomen cramp up when he would first bore into me and distend my colon; when he first entered me and my anal sphincter would scream in protest, but would eventually grudgingly accept his meat.  If this was what it took to please him, then it was a small price to pay.

 

I knew now that he didn’t love me, at least in the way that I’d been brought up to think about love.  I wasn’t even sure that he was capable of love in that sense.  At the same time, I knew that I had some kind of a hold upon him, but what it is I have never known.  I have never tried to take advantage of this either.  Eventually my body will age; I know that my days here as one of his pleasure sluts will be over for me soon enough and that I will then be gone.  I don’t want to hasten the ending in any way.

 

I had always been so quiet before---now I use vulgar language and habitually cursed when we fucked.  And as I beg him for more, there was nothing that I wouldn’t say to please him.  There were other things that I now routinely did for him that I’d never dreamed I would do.  I’d learned to suck his cock after it’d been in my ass, just to taste myself on him.  There were other, worse things that I’d done too.  I was his slave and his whore; I was his submissive pain/pleasure slut now and forever.  I craved the way he owned me.  I would do anything he asked, as long it meant that he would continue treating me like the slave that I deserved to be.

 

He’d known me far, far better than I had ever known myself that day on the boat when he first took me.  He had told me that he was going to show me that it was all about my giving, while I was pretending that he was taking.  That in the end it was about intimacy and naked honesty, about fears and needs and losing myself in my desire to give him the gift of my suffering.  That there in the darkness there was no accountability for my cravings, and that he would be there to save me from myself and give my life meaning.”

 

For many long weeks in the beginning of my stay with him after I’d been broken and trained but before I’d truly understood, I’d felt that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that one might get when they know that they’ve gone over to the Dark Side forever.  But I knew now that I’d be just fine.  That’s the good thing about the Dark Side.   Eventually, your eyes adjust.  I thought back to what Jorge had told me on the first day of my training: “You need to be mistreated in love.  You are the type of woman that will always from now on seek out angry and aggressive lovers.”  He had been right and now I had found that lover.  Forever.  Or at least until he tired of me.