Holly's Home Invasion

Holly's Home Invasion

by Andromeda

Part One

I suppose I ought to start by telling you a little something about myself. My
name is Holly Butler. I'm 44 years old, I'm divorced and I have a 24-year-old
daughter, Beth. I work as a high school English teacher and my daughter is a
beautician with a teaching job at a beauty school. This is the story of what
happened to Beth and me a little over two months ago.

It was a Sunday afternoon, a beautiful sunny day. Beth was visiting with me and
both of us were out on the patio of my home, enjoying the sun and having a good
time. Beth and I get along wonderfully and the two of us were chatting and
having a couple of drinks. It was a warm day and we were both barefoot, dressed
in thin white cotton short shorts and matching halter-tops. It was back to work
the next morning but today was my day. It was perfect. We sat there, the two of
us, chatting and laughing, basking in the warm sunshine bathing our bare limbs
and enjoying the last few minutes of freedom before the nightmare.

At about 4 PM, we heard noises coming from inside the house. I got up and went
inside to check it out. When I got inside I froze. There were two men in black
ski masks going through my living room. I found out later that there was a third
man with them but he was upstairs at the time. One of the men, short and stocky
and wearing jeans and a white T- shirt, came toward me. He had a gun in his hand
pointed right at my head. As I stood there, frozen in my tracks, he clamped his
gloved hand tightly over my mouth.

'Not a sound, bitch, or you're dead,' he whispered, jabbing his gun into my
stomach. I nodded my head and he shoved me until my back was up against a wall.
I was paralyzed with fear.

'Anyone else with you, bitch?' he asked, still whispering. I could feel his hot
fetid breath on my face. Terrified as I was, my first thought was to shake my
head. But then I decided it was no good lying: Beth was sure to come in looking
for me and then we would be in even worse trouble. So I nodded yes. The man made
a quick gesture to his companion, a tall slim man dressed in a turtle neck
sweater and chino pants who promptly picked up a duffel bag that was lying on
the floor and dumped its contents on the sofa. I blanched when I saw what came
out: coiled lengths of white cotton rope and rolls of black duct tape together
with plastic zip ties and folded strips of white linen cloth. I had no trouble
figuring out what they were for. The man took some rope and some strips of cloth
and went out to the patio, gun in hand. Meanwhile my assailant removed his hand
from my mouth and pushed the barrel of his gun up against my neck.

'Not a sound, bitch,' he ordered and put his finger across my lips. I nodded
fearfully.

'Take your top off,' he hissed. I shook my head frantically and opened my mouth
to protest. Without warning he dealt me a quick sharp slap across my lips. The
blow stung. The shock of it made me start trembling and I felt tears forming in
my eyes.

'That's just a warning,' he growled, 'now lose the top. Do it now.'

Sobbing quietly I quickly undid my halter and let it drop to the floor. The man
eyed my breasts hungrily then dropped his gaze to my bare legs.

'Now your shorts, pull 'em down,' he ordered me.

Trembling, my eyes blurry with tears, I pulled my thin cotton shorts down to my
ankles and stepped out of them. I faced him, my face red with embarrassment and
humiliation at being stripped to my underwear. The man grinned as he eyed my
lace-trimmed white silk panties.

'Cute panties you've got on,' he sneered. He spun me around and pushed me up
against the wall.

'Lean forward. Forehead against the wall,' he ordered curtly, 'legs spread
wide.' As I was slow to comply I received a couple of swift kicks to my ankles
that knocked my legs apart and a sharp shove between my shoulder blades that
hurled my head forward against the wall.

'Please,' I gasped, 'you're hurting me.'

'You'll get hurt you a lot worse if you don't do what I say,' he snarled. 'Now
put your hands behind your back and keep 'em there while I get some rope.'

The slap to my face, the stripping and the brutal manhandling had crushed any
will I might have had to resist. I was beaten. Listlessly I put my hands behind
my back, dreading what came next. I'd only been been tied up once in my entire
life and though it happened a long time ago and was only a game the memory of it
still rankled. It was when I was in Girl Scouts. I was fourteen or so and our
troop had decided to take two of us as 'prisoners' for a two-hour march through
the woods. I can still recall how humiliated I'd felt when our hands were pulled
behind our backs and securely roped in front of the other girls. I know it was
just a harmless bondage game but I dreaded being tied up. Now I was about to be
bound and gagged by real-life sociopaths. The prospect frightened me to death. I
had a sudden fit of uncontrollable sobbing. And there was still no sign of Beth.

As I stood sobbing helplessly, my hands held behind me for the rope, I looked
over my shoulder and saw my captor move back to the sofa and pick up two hanks
of rope and some gagging material. The masked intruder uncoiled a length of
rope, doubled it up and quickly fashioned it into a slip noose at the bight. He
chuckled when he saw the fear and despair in my eyes as I looked at the rope.

'This one's for you,' he grinned widely. As he came back toward me, holding the
ropes and cloth and tucking his gun into his belt, I saw Beth being pushed into
the living room by the other intruder. She'd been stripped, she was in her
panties, bound and gagged. Her hands were behind her and she had a heavily
knotted strip of white linen cloth drawn tightly over her mouth. Evidently her
mouth had been packed with gagging cloth. Snatches of it protruded out from
under the gag strap. She stumbled awkwardly as she was hustled toward me, unable
to walk normally owing to the short hobble of rope that her captor had fastened
between her ankles. Her eyes were wide with dread and she stared helplessly up
at me as she was forced down on the floor beside me and made to sit with her
back to the wall. As she sat I looked down and caught a brief glimpse of her
crossed wrists behind her back, fastened together with tightly knotted wrappings
of the white cotton rope. The man who had bound her casually kicked her legs
apart as far as the hobble allowed and forced her knees up toward her chest. He
then stood back and stared briefly at her crotch. He seemed satisfied.

'Sit still with your knees up and your legs spread,' he snapped. My daughter
mmpphed at him weakly through her gag. There were tears in her eyes.

I remember wondering dimly if the two of us were going to be raped. I looked
down at Beth. 'It's going to be OK,' I whispered to her without much conviction,
'they're just tying us up, then they'll...' I was interrupted by a sharp
backhanded slap across my cheek that spun my head toward the wall. 'Shut the
fuck up. And keep your eyes front,' my captor growled. A second later, rough
hands grabbed my wrists and crossed them. I felt the noosed rope being slipped
around my wrists and pulled tight with a quick hard tug. The binding was swift
and brutal. I winced repeatedly as the rope was wrapped painfully tight around
my wrists then threaded between the wrists to cinch the bonds even tighter.

'OK cunt, that oughtta hold you for now,' the man snarled as he jerked the knots
taut with a quick tug. The ropes hurt badly. I tried tentatively to move my
wrists inside the bonds but they were unyielding. They allowed no play. Every
movement sent sharp stabs of pain lancing through my wrists. I was helpless and
in pain. I wondered bitterly how long I would have to stay this way.

'Open up,' my captor ordered. In his hands he held a wadded strip of white
cloth. Bound as I was I was unable to resist and as I opened my mouth the
wadding was unceremoniously stuffed inside and shoved down deep into my throat.
As I stood there gagging and retching, a twisted length of the white linen cloth
was drawn between my lips and knotted firmly at the back of my neck to hold the
wadding in place. I retched violently and shook my head in a fit of panic
desperately trying to dislodge the gag but it held mercilessly tight. 

'I wouldn't fight that gag if I were you,' I heard my captor grunt, 'you could
end up choking yourself.'

After a brief struggle I gave up trying to dislodge the hateful muzzle. Tears
were running down my cheeks and soaking my gag strap. My shoulders heaved as I
wept bitterly.

'That's right,' the man grunted, 'just keep still. The gag takes getting used
to, give it a chance. You can cry if you want to.'

A feeling of utter helplessness and despair descended on me. Only ten minutes
ago, Beth and I had been on the patio enjoying the sun, the drinks and the
conversation. Now both of us were stripped and tied up, brutally gagged,
helplessly trapped in a nightmare that was only just beginning. I stole another
quick glance at my daughter sitting on the floor against the wall, exposed and
helpless in her bonds and her underwear, forced to sit in that humiliating
position with her knees drawn up and her legs spread. She was sobbing quietly
into her gag. She looked broken.

My captor knelt down at my ankles and quickly fastened a short hobble of rope
between them. Then my bound hands were grasped and I felt the diamond ring I was
wearing on one of my fingers being removed. My neck chain was also taken from
me.

'You won't be needing these any more,' he informed me coldly, 'got any other
jewelry?'  I shook my head.

'How about a gun. You got a gun in the house or the car?'

I hesitated. I always keep one hidden in a drawer of the bureau in the living
room. A fat lot of good it had done me, I thought bitterly.

'If you got one, you better lemme know,' the man grated, 'we'll find it anyway
and you'll be sorry you made us waste our time.'

I nodded weakly and grunted 'yes' through my gag.

'OK, you got one. Now show me where it is,' he growled. He gripped my elbow and
turned me around. I pointed at the bureau with my head and grunted again under
my gag. He steered me toward the bureau and I stumbled along in my ankle hobble
as best I could, taking quick short steps to avoid tripping over myself. When we
reached the bureau I turned around and indicated the drawer with my bound hands.
He retrieved the weapon, a snub-nosed Smith and Wesson 38 and hefted it briefly
in his hand, then checked to see if it was loaded. It was.

'Nice piece,' he remarked. 'Any more bullets?'

I indicated another drawer of the bureau. He got the bullets out and pocketed
the gun and the ammunition.

'Good girl,' he grunted, 'time to get you settled down.' He escorted me back to
where Beth was sitting against the wall with her knees pulled up and her legs
open, still sobbing brokenly into her gag. The narrow strip of lacy white
lingerie that concealed her privates was lewdly displayed between her spread
legs. At least she'd been allowed her to keep her panties on, I thought
bitterly.

'On the floor, knees up and legs spread as far as they'll go,' my captor grated
as he shoved me down roughly, 'just like your friend. Do it.'

Both of us made to sit against the wall, I thought bitterly, with our hands tied
behind our backs and our legs parted to show our panties. Why, I wondered. I
fell heavily on my butt and hurriedly drew my knees up and spread my legs as
wide as the hobble ropes allowed.

'Good,' my captor remarked. He gazed briefly at my crotch then turned to the
other man.

'What the fuck we gonna do with these bitches, Slim? We gonna collect 'em or
just fuck 'em and get rid of 'em?' he asked the other intruder.

'I dunno Jerry,' Slim replied, 'we better let Red figure it out. He'll be down
in a minute. He'll decide if they're worth selling. If we collect 'em we're
gonna have to make sure their assholes stay fresh and ready for the buyers after
we fuck 'em. You don't want those holes all torn up and bleeding.'

Beth and I looked at each other. Her eyes were wide over her gag, there was
sheer terror in them. I wondered if she could see the fear in mine. I suddenly
felt very cold.

Holly's Home Invasion

by Andromeda


Part Two

Humiliatingly gagged and stripped to our panties, Beth and I sat on the living
room floor with our backs against the wall, knees raised and parted and hands
tied tightly and painfully behind our backs. Beth's eyes were wide with fear
over her gag. She was petrified. So was I. Judging from what the two men had
just said this was obviously not a normal burglary. Beth and I hadn't been tied
up simply to keep us from interfering and give our assailants time to make their
getaway. We had been roped and gagged for rape. Even more frightening was the
sinister reference to "collecting" us, to keeping us "fresh and ready" for
"buyers". Rape and kidnapping were bad enough. But being taken captive to be
sold into slavery? It was horrible and unthinkable. I wondered desperately if I
had heard right. Things like that didn't happen here. Yes, I'd heard that it
happened in Asia and in other parts of the world but not here, not in America.

I was in denial.

The two assailants stood in front of us staring fixedly at our crotches. One of
them, the man called Slim who had tied up and gagged my daughter, pulled out a
cigarette and lit it. As I looked up I saw the third man come down the stairs.
He was heavy set and bulky, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. Like the other
two he wore a black ski mask over his face and he was carrying my TV set on his
shoulder. He chuckled balefully when he saw us.

'Looks like you guys bagged some ass while I was busy upstairs. Nicely stripped
and tied up. Good work.' He set the TV down on the floor.

'Yeah,' the man called Slim said, 'the two of 'em were out on the patio in their
shorts, sunning themselves I guess. One of 'em, the older bitch over there,' he
pointed at me, 'must have heard something and she came in snooping around. Jerry
took care of her and I went out to the patio and took care of the other one.

The third man, Red, stepped over to where Beth and I sat bound on the floor,
squatted down in front of us and studied us intently.

'These cunts give you any trouble before you tied 'em up?' he asked.

'Nope, piece of cake,' Slim replied, 'they were good. Not a peep out either of
'em.'

'Nice pieces of ass,' Red commented, 'I like the way you guys got 'em set up,
sitting there showing their crotches.'  He grinned at us. I turned my face away.
I was all too acutely aware of the humiliating position in which Beth and I had
been forced to sit. On the floor in our underwear, bound and gagged, knees drawn
up with our lacy white lingerie on display between our parted legs. It was
mortifying.

'Yeah,' Slim remarked dryly, 'me and Jerry figured you'd like it. Beats tying
'em up face down on the floor the way we usually do it. So how about it? Jerry
wants to know if we can fuck 'em now. I told him we better wait to hear from you
on that.'

For a brief moment I wondered if this wasn't just a bad dream, that soon I would
wake up in my bed soaked with perspiration but happy to be awake. But the
loathsome gag in my mouth and the tautly drawn ropes at my wrists felt all too
real. This was no dream.

'Business comes first, Slim,' Red said, 'we might wanna collect 'em. So first we
do the ass and cunts shots for the ad. Then we fuck 'em. I don't want cum oozing
outta their holes when we take the shots.' He eyed my crotch, then reached out
and fingered the thin fabric of my lingerie. I reddened and squirmed in my bonds
as he pushed the crotchband aside and casually ran his fingers over my labia.

'Got the camera, Slim?' he asked, 'you can start by taking a few shots of 'em
sitting here in their panties.'

He withdrew his hand and patted my panties back in place, carefully smoothing
the silky fabric down over my crotch. I winced as he tugged at my tight gag and
tucked some loose ends of the packing cloth under the strapping.

'Yeah, I got it,' Slim replied. He pulled out a small digital camera. 'You want
'em shot just the way they are now before I do the ass and cunt shots?'

'Sure,' Red said, 'they look great. Two pieces of ass sitting on the floor, tied
up and waiting to get fucked. It'll make a great caption. The buyers'll love
it.' He moved over to Beth who broke into tears as he fingered her, rearranged
her panties and adjusted her gag strap. He stood up and Slim squatted down in
front of us, aimed the camera and took several shots of Beth and me sitting on
the floor in our bonds and our underwear. .

Bound, gagged and stripped, I thought bitterly. And now photographed in our
bondage. These pictures were digital. They could be copied and sent out in a
flash. I had read in some magazine somewhere that there was a brisk trade over
the internet in this sort of picture, of women bound and gagged in obscene
positions. I shuddered when I thought of these humiliating pictures of Beth and
me being sent out at the speed of light to scores of perverts who would in turn
e-mail them to their friends to drool over. How many people, I wondered, would
get to see them over the years? Thousands? Tens of thousands? It didn't bear
thinking about.

'Lemme see the playbacks on those pics,' Red said. Slim handed him the camera.

'Outstanding,' Red commented as he examined the pictures, 'I like the way their
gags match their panties. White gags between their teeth, white panties over
their fuckholes, it kinda makes a statement. How about if I use that for one of
the captions. Think it'll fly?' The two other men snickered. 'How about it,
ladies?' he asked us, 'wanna see your pics?'

He thrust the camera in front of our faces. I knew what to expect but even so
the pictures were shocking. They were loathsome. They showed Beth and me
humiliatingly stripped and gagged and sitting on the floor in our panties, our
backs to the wall and our thighs obscenely parted to display our lace-trimmed
lingerie between our legs. Our arms were pulled behind our backs, obviously
bound, and our eyes were staring miserably at the camera. Especially hideous
were the twisted white strips of gagging cloth that were cleaved tightly between
our teeth to bind the packing inside our mouths. The pictures reminded me of
those disgusting detective magazine covers that newsvendors used to display when
I was a teenager. I remember how I used to cringe with embarrassment every time
I happened to see one as I passed by.

'Hope the pics meet with your approval, ladies,' Red sneered as he stood up and
handed the camera back to Slim. 'Let's do the ass and cunt shots.'

'How do you want 'em set up for those?' Slim asked. 'Bent over a table with
their panties pulled back and taped to their asscheeks? Like that bitch we
bagged a couple weeks ago?'

'Sure,' Red said, 'those were terrific shots. Made her fuckhole stand out like a
neon light. I can't believe how many buyers showed up when we ran those pics. We
sold that bitch so damn fast we never even got to fuck her thoroughly. We can
use that table over there.' Red pointed at my dining table at the other end of
the room. 'By the way, anybody find any guns?'

'This one here had a gun stashed away in some drawer,' said Jerry, pointing at
me, 'the bitch showed me where.'

'So did you get it?' Red asked.

'Sure. It's a snub nose 38. Smith and Wesson. I got it on me.'

'So hand it over, Jerry.'

'Hey,' Jerry scowled, 'the gun's mine, I found it.'

'Yeah right, you found it, so hand it over. We work as a team, Jerry, in case
you hadn't noticed.'

Jerry glared at him.

'I'm not gonna ask you again, Jerry.' Red's tone was suddenly low and menacing.

'Fuck it,' Jerry spat out angrily. 'Here. Take it.' He pulled my 38 out of his
pants pocket and thrust it at Red.

'That's better,' Red muttered as he pocketed the gun, then held his hand out.
'Any ammo?'

Jerry silently extracted my bullets from his pocket and handed them over. 'I
gotta go take a crap,' he muttered. He turned on his heel and stormed up the
stairs.

'Find some ID for these cunts, Jerry,' Red called out. 'Look for handbags.' He
third-fingered him as he disappeared from sight. 'Fucking asshole,' he growled.

'Jerry looks real pissed,' Slim remarked.

Red shrugged. 'Yeah, big deal,' he grunted, 'forget about him, he's a jerk.'
He looked down at Beth. 'Gimme a hand with this cunt over here,' he said, 'help
me move her to the table for the shots.'

Beth sobbed bitterly as she was pulled to her feet by the two men and hustled
toward my dining table, her hobbled legs dragging on the floor behind her. I
looked on helplessly as she was bent over the table and held face down while her
panties were tugged smartly to one side to expose her asscrack and vagina. White
duct tape was ripped from a roll, wrapped around the crotchband and pressed down
hard on her bare and sensitive flesh to fasten the stretched lingerie to her
asscheek. I broke down and wept as Slim squatted down, aimed his camera at my
daughter's exposed openings and took several shots at close range.

'What the fuck is Jerry's problem?' he asked as he stood up, 'he didn't wanna
give up the gun?'

'Yeah well, Jerry's a fucking jerk,' Red muttered, 'got no idea about teamwork
and organization. He's a loose cannon, won't follow orders. OK, so he's new on
the job and I'm still breaking him in. But hey, when he got started a couple
months ago you remember what he used to do? He'd round up some victims, tie
their hands and that was it, that was all she wrote. No gags, no ropes around
the ankles, nothing, just their fucking hands tied. Like he was a cop making an
arrest. Fucking jerk.'

'Yeah, I remember that,' Slim said. He stepped forward and pulled Beth's head up
painfully by her hair. She stared at him, weeping brokenly. 'I need you to look
at me over your shoulder for the angle shots,' he told her coldly, 'the folks
we're gonna mail these pics to are gonna want to see a face to go with that cute
fuckhole of yours.'

'You remember, huh?' Red went on, 'and you remember the fucking disaster we
practically had the next time around? Remember the tall thin blonde, cute little
tits, black silk underwear? Started running and got to a window, managed to turn
around and open it with her hands tied behind her back then started hollering
her fucking head off. OK, nothing happened, nobody showed up and Jerry finally
got her muzzled but fuck, it was pretty close.'

Camera in hand, Slim hovered behind Beth, taking pictures of her from different
angles as she stood bent over the table, her legs splayed to the rear, her butt
raised and her panties pulled over and taped to her ass to showcase her crotch.
Also displayed were the hideous coils of white cotton rope that secured her
wrists behind her back. Bitter tears streamed from her frightened eyes as she
strained her neck to make sure she kept staring at the camera over her shoulder.
I wept freely into my gag as Slim completed his obscene series of photographs
and stepped back. He looked at me distastefully.

'Fucking waterworks,' he muttered, 'I wish somebody would figure out a way to
keep the bitches from crying all the time. Even with the gags on enough of the
sniffling and sobbing gets through to drive you up the wall. Gets on your
nerves.'

'Doesn't bother me,' said Red, 'I'd be a helluva lot more bothered if they
didn't cry. I'd be worried about what the fuck I was doing wrong. Besides, there
isn't all that much a victim can do except cry when she's tied up with a gag in
her mouth.' He went to the sofa, picked up two pairs of hinged handcuffs and
came back. He moved Beth to the narrow end of the table, pushed her facedown and
severed her ankle hobble.

'Yeah, well they can always pee themselves,' Slim volunteered, 'matter of fact,
they do sometimes.'

'No shit?' Red muttered as he casually kicked my daughter's legs apart until her
feet were flush with the table legs. Bending down he swiftly shackled her ankles
to the table legs on either side, slapping the cuffs smartly against her ankles
so the ratchets flew over and caught. The ratchets clicked evilly as he
tightened the cuffs. I knew why my daughter was being shackled. Now that the
pictures were taken she was being secured for raping. Beth understood it too.
She had begun sobbing badly. I knew that soon it would be my turn.

'Yeah,' Slim was saying, 'we bagged this cunt a month ago, a cute little redhead
with killer legs and nice big jugs. You don't remember her. It was a job me and
Jerry did on our own. That bitch gave me a shitload of trouble. Refused to strip
down and told me to go fuck myself when I told her to put her hands behind her
back. I had to tackle her down and slap her around so I could get her roped up
but even then with her hands tied behind her the bitch kept struggling and
screaming like a wildcat. So to shut her up good I slapped a real tight heavy
duty gag on her, double packing stuffed in good and hard with duct tape wrapped
around the head two or three times to seal it in, a real killer gag. She wasn't
expecting it.'

'Yeah,' Red muttered, 'I remember her. A redhead with huge tits. White satin
panties if I remember right. I watched her while she was getting her ass fucked
by one of the buyers over in the cabin. Finally got sold to some Japanese dude.
She was a fucking nuisance. Always bitching about something even with her mouth
taped up and her hands tied. Wasn't that the bridge party you guys broke up? The
one with the four rich bitches? I remember you told me you guys had to waste two
of 'em on account of their holes weren't up to scratch.' He ran his hands slowly
up the backs of my daughter's thighs to her raised and exposed crotch and teased
her labia open. Beth was weeping brokenly. Her tightly bound hands twisted
fitfully behind her back and the cuffs rattled against the table legs as she
fought her shackles.

'Yeah, right,' Slim said, 'we bagged four cunts on that job and we wasted two of
'em. Anyway like I was saying, as soon as I got that killer gag taped over her
mouth, the bitch got so fucking quiet you could hear a pin drop. That must've
been when it happened. I was busy stripping her clothes off with my knife when I
smelled it. She was wearing this cute little white satin thong under her dress
and I checked it out. Man, was it wet! And I mean sopping wet! She'd fucking
peed herself when I gagged her. Can you believe I made that cunt wear those
sopping panties taped to her cheeks for three hours until we finally got her to
the cabin? She had to have 'em on for her pics, for her ass and cunt fuck and
then while she was tied up in the back of the van. Boy did she stink! I can tell
ya she didn't look too fucking happy lying there on the floor of the van in her
hogtie with her cute little mouth strapped up tighter than a mummy's ass and a
pair of pee soaked panties sticking to her butt. Not to mention all the cum that
kept running out of her holes. I bet she was sorry she ever fucked with me.' He
cackled loudly.

'Yeah OK, Slim,' Red grunted, 'so the victim peed her panties. I seen a lotta
victims do that. It's no big fucking deal.' The kidnapper's fingers were
inserted in my daughter's vagina, slowly masturbating her clitoris, massaging
her vaginal walls.

'Well I just wanted to tell ya. You're gonna fuck this one first, right? You
don't wanna wait till Jerry gets back down?'

'Nope. My dick's drilling a hole in my fucking pants. I'll do her cunt first.
Then I'll fuck her ass. Where the fuck is Jerry anyway? I'm fucked if I'm gonna
run upstairs and chase him down. Fucking jerk. He's probably jacking off in the
can. You can get started on the other bitch if you want but make sure you do her
ass and cunt shots first.' His hands pursued their relentless masturbation of my
daughter.

Slim grunted and went to the sofa. He came back with two more sets of hinged
handcuffs and stood over me. I cringed. My turn had come. 'You gonna get up and
move your ass over to that table on your own or do I have to drag you over?' he
asked, 'it's your choice.' I nodded yes. I didn't want to be dragged.

'Come on sweetheart,' I could hear Red murmur, 'you got some cunt juice you
wanna put out for me?' Beth sobbed and shook her head. She was sobbing horribly,
dreadful keening sounds that I had never heard her utter before. Her shoulders
were heaving. It was heart rending.

'Sure you do, sweetheart,' Red coaxed her clit, 'you know you want it. You want
it bad, baby. Relax. Let it happen.' As I struggled to get up off the floor I
prayed silently that Beth's body wouldn't betray her, that she wouldn't give her
rapist the satisfaction of lubricating for him, of easing his penetration of her
defenseless vagina. Getting up wasn't easy with my arms pinioned behind my back
and my ankles hobbled. Slim grinned as he watched me struggle for a minute or
two then pulled me up roughly.

'Oh yeah!' Red suddenly exulted, 'go girl, keep it coming, baby!' He unbuttoned
his fly and pulled out his member. It was fully erect, huge, at least eight or
nine inches long, its tip slicked with pre-ejaculate.

'She creaming her cunt?' Slim asked as he led me to the table, cuffs in hand. I
shuffled and stumbled in my hobble to where my daughter stood bent over, hands
roped at the small of her back and ankles cuffed to the table legs, her panties
taped to one side to expose her privates. Her vagina glistened with her
secretions. Her rapist stood behind her, his finger on her clitoris and his huge
shaft poised for penetration, its tip already inserted between her moist and
parted lips.

'You better believe she's creaming, aren't you sweetheart?' he exclaimed, 'she's
creaming beautifully. Her cunt's all wet and ready for fucking. This is one
superb piece of ass.'

My poor sweet Beth. Forced to lubricate against her will and now about to be
impaled on her rapist's huge and monstrous shaft. I couldn't bear to watch. As I
neared the table on which I too was to be raped I turned my face away and wept
bitterly for my ravaged daughter. And I wept for myself too. I heard Beth gasp
as she was swiftly impaled. Then came the dreadful pounding noises, the ghastly
creaking of the table and my daughter's gag muffled sobbing and screaming as she
was mercilessly raped. It was over quickly, a dozen brutally swift thrusts,
maybe less. The rapist groaned loudly as he ejaculated inside her. Sobbing
bitterly into my gag I stood by the table in my panties, hands bound firmly
behind my back, waiting for my turn.

Holly's Home Invasion
Part 3

I wept as I watched Red slip his tumescent member out of my daughter's raw and
freshly raped vagina. Milky strands of semen oozed out in its wake and clung
disgustingly to his shaft. The rapist wiped them off on Beth's clean white
panties with a sadistic flourish. He looked at Slim.

'I like her fuckhole,' he told him, 'it's got good grip. And the lubrication is
terrific. She creams beautifully. You just gotta work her clit and she's wet and
ready for fucking. You don't wanna work it too much though or her cunt can get a
little sloppy.' 

'No shit?' said Slim.

'Yep. I still gotta do her ass but from what I've seen so far I think you guys
bagged us a great piece of merchandise here. If her ass holds up we can probably
sell her for 55 K at least. How about the other cunt? You gonna check her out?'
He gave me a brief glance.

Shame and indignation welled up inside me. In desperation I strained at my
bonds. They held mercilessly tight, cutting viciously into my wrists as I
struggled. It was hopeless. I had been expertly tied. The bindings were hard and
unyielding, brutally cinched, deliberately calculated to inflict pain if I
struggled against them. My wrists were on fire.

'Looks like she needs a tranquilizer,' Red muttered as he watched me struggle,
'Slim?' Without warning, I was dealt a swift hard blow to my lower back in my
kidney area. I doubled over in agony.

'That hurt?' Slim asked me, 'that was just a taste of what you're gonna get next
time you try and slip those ropes. You're gonna get fucked, like it or not. Get
used to it.'

I sobbed bitterly. Brutally beaten with my hands tied behind my back, my
daughter ruthlessly raped in front of me, these men were professional thugs,
capable of anything. I looked up and saw Jerry coming down the stairs.

'Hey, where the fuck you been, guy?' Red called out as Jerry sauntered into the
living room with his hands in his pockets, 'I been telling Slim here maybe you
got flushed down along with your crap.' He guffawed loudly.

Jerry glanced at my daughter's bared and ravished crotch, obscenely ringed on
one side by the frilly lace trimmed crescent of duct taped lingerie. She lay
bent over the table like a broken doll, her cuffed and shackled legs spread
wide, her bound hands lying limply at the small of her back. She was crying.

Thick gobs of spent semen seeped slowly out of her engorged and purpled labia
and trickled down the insides of her thighs. Her white silk panties were
hideously soaked with ejaculate.

'So you fucked her,' he said to Red, 'couldn't wait till I got back, huh?' 

'Yeah Jerry, I fucked her. I checked out her cunt. It's what we do, Jerry, just
in case you hadn't noticed. We bag some bitches, we tie them up and we fuck 'em
to see if we can sell 'em. You want me to tell you about her fuckhole? It's
good. The fuckhole's good. Nice and tight with lots of grip. And nicely
lubricated. Now I'm gonna fuck her ass. Is that OK with you, Jerry, or do you
have a problem with that?'

The rapist grasped my daughter's buttocks and parted them to expose her puckered
little hole. Gagged and hobbled, denied the use of my hands, I could only stand
and watch helplessly as the rapist pulled a tube of lubricant out of his pocket,
squeezed out a large gob and rubbed it revoltingly into Beth's bared and
defenseless butthole. My poor daughter screamed through her gag as he brutally
rammed his lubricated finger through her sphincter and buried it deep inside her
ass.

'I asked you to find some ID for these cunts, Jerry,' the rapist said as he
reamed my daughter's anal passage, briskly massaging the lubricant into the
delicate and clinging lining of her ass with quick practiced strokes of his
finger. 'So how about it? Did you find some?'

Jerry shook his head slowly. He sat down on the sofa by the pile of bondage gear
the kidnappers had dumped there and picked up a pair of handcuffs. He toyed with
them idly, swiveling the ratchets back and forth.

'What the fuck's wrong with you Jerry,' Red burst out, 'you been shooting up or
what? We're on a job here in case you forgot. What the fuck you been doing up
there? Jacking off?'  Jerry said nothing. He seemed fascinated by the cuffs.
They clicked softly as he worked the ratchet through the bow over and over
again.

'Fuck you, Jerry,' Red snarled. He pulled his soiled finger from my daughter's
ass and casually wiped it off on her soaked panties leaving them smeared with
traces of fecal matter. He looked over at Slim and me. 'How about it, Slim? You
gonna fuck that cunt or what? She's just standing there holding down the floor.
Why isn't she over the table in cuffs? Use the other end. There's room for the
two of 'em.'

'Yeah right,' Slim grunted. He shoved me to the opposite end of the table facing
Beth. Whipped, totally defeated, I bent over submissively and laid my head on
the tabletop. The brutal rape of my daughter and the bruising blow to my back
with my hands tied behind my back had thoroughly broken my spirit. Beth's face
lay on the tabletope inches away from mine, her sweet features hideously
distorted by the tight gag strap, her soft cheeks bulging and distended from the
wadding that had been wedged inside her mouth to silence her. Above the gag, her
tear-drenched eyes were vacant and staring. Behind her I could see her rapist
grimly intent on his revolting task, lubricating her, preparing her for anal
impalement. Slim bent down to my ankles and swiftly severed the hobbling ropes
with his knife.

'Spread 'em,' he ordered. I complied.

'Wider,' he insisted, 'ankles up against the table legs.' With my legs spread to
his satisfaction, I felt cold steel around my ankles as he applied the cuffs and
shackled me. I cried out in pain through my gag cloths as the ratchets were
tightened. The metal cuffs dug mercilessly into my flesh. They hurt.

'Tight?' my captor chuckled, 'give 'em time, they'll stretch.' I supposed he
thought it was funny. My ankles were in agony. Across the table I saw Beth
stiffen, then scream into her gag as Red rammed his huge thick shaft into her
butt. 'Relax bitch,' he muttered as he plowed into her, 'you ever taken it up
the ass before?' Beth sobbed and shook her head weakly. 'No shit? First time
huh? Relax, you're gonna love it. Hey guys, we bagged us a virgin ass here,' he
called out.

I felt Slim's hands at my asscheeks, handling my lingerie, tugging it aside to
expose my privates. Then I heard the hideous ripping sound of duct tape being
stripped from a roll. My panties pulled at my crotch as the tape was wrapped
around the stretched crotchband and pressed down firmly on my flesh to fasten
the narrow strip of lingerie to my asscheek. Moments later I heard the whirring
of the camera as Slim took his lewd and obscene close-ups of my bared crotch.
'Look back at me over your shoulder, cunt,' he ordered. Crushed and broken, I
stared back at the camera for the angle shots, my face crimson with shame and
humiliation. Across the table Beth cried out again as the rapist hurt her with a
particularly violent and brutal thrust through her stretched sphincter.

'I love this bitch's butthole,' Red grunted as he slammed into her again, 'nice
and snug with plenty of stretch. This is top of the line merchandise we got
here. Just plug and play. Did I say 55 K? We can probably get 70 to 75 K for
her.' Beth began sobbing again, keening dreadfully into her gag.

'How about the other bitch, Slim?' He grinned at me as he drove into her once
more.

'Still getting her ready. Gimme a minute.' I felt the cold touch of lubricant on
my ass. I cringed as the rapist rubbed it into my anus, then further inside
where he massaged it painfully hard against my sphincter.

'Fucking tight asshole you've got down there lady,' the rapist commented, 'looks
like you haven't had your ass fucked all that much. Am I right?' I grunted
through my gag and nodded bitterly. I had never allowed anyone to even touch me
there, not my ex-husband, not my lovers, no one. The thought of being taken
through my back passage turned my stomach. I squirmed and twisted in my
restraints as my assailant reamed me relentlessly, readying me for rape.

'Gotta slick you up real good then,' he said, 'we don't want your asshole to rip
while you're getting fucked. It's gotta stay fresh for when the buyers show up.
That's if we decide to collect you, I mean. I hope you make it. If you don't
we're gonna have to waste you.'

I wondered fearfully what he meant. Did he mean waste as in discard or, I
shuddered, waste as in kill? I remembered the strange comment about the two
victims from the bridge party who had had to be "wasted" because "their holes
weren't up to scratch." It probably meant discard, I decided. The alternative
was too terrible to contemplate. But I felt a sudden rush of terror and I
shivered in my bindings. It suddenly felt cold inside the room.

'Just relax,' he said, 'I'm gonna rub some more lube up in there. I wanna do a
real good job on you, make sure your hole's nicely slicked and ready. You'll be
thanking me when it's over.' He withdrew his finger. A moment later it was
thrust back in with a vengeance. I gasped. My ass muscles contracted
involuntarily as my sphincter was penetrated. The dreadful pressure of his
finger inside me triggered peristalsis in my colon and made me want to defecate.
I bit down on my gag to stop myself from crying out from the pain and
humiliation. I felt thoroughly degraded, loathsomely defiled.

'Relax your ass,' the rapist murmured as he probed painfully hard and deep
through my stretched sphincter and rubbed the lubricant vigorously into the
lining of my colon. I bit on my gag and tried to close my mind to my hideous
defilement. I gazed at Beth. She had stopped weeping and had retreated into a
private world of her own, her eyes blank and expressionless. She stood
submissively bent over in her bonds with her gagged and distended face pressed
down on the tabletop, seemingly unaware of the rapist who stood behind her
savagely ravishing her ass. Our eyes met for a brief second then she looked
away. I grunted softly through my gag to try and get her attention, to let her
know that I was there with her sharing her shame. To make her understand that I
too was bound, gagged and stripped for rape, standing bent over with my hands
tied behind my back, my ankles in cuffs and my underwear taped back to bare the
most intimate part of my body for lubrication and impalement on a rapist's
shaft. I longed to say something to her to comfort her, just a few words to tell
her I loved her, that I would always love her. But I was gagged. All I could do
was grunt.

I felt the rapist slip his finger out of my slicked and lubricated butthole and
wipe it off on my underwear. I wondered bitterly if this was why they had
allowed us to keep our panties on, so they could use them as rags to clean
themselves while they raped us. A moment later I felt the tip of the rapist's
shaft poised at my anus, positioned for the assault. I cried out in agony
through my gag as the thick hard member was thrust brutally into my butthole and
rammed against my sphincter. The rapist slammed himself against it several times
trying to force it open and thrust his way through. Each time my sphincter held
tight and failed to stretch open. At length the brutal battering came to an end
as the rapist withdrew his soiled shaft and cleaned it off on my taped panties.
A noisome whiff of excrement wafted up and assailed my nostrils. I felt sick.

'What the fuck,' he exclaimed, 'I can't get my dick into this fucking bitch's
ass.'

'No shit,' Red grunted as he ejaculated violently and noisily into my daughter's
anal passage. Beth broke into tears as her lower colon was sprayed and filled
with her rapist's semen. She looked dreadful. Her eyes were wild and her gagged
and distended face was contorted with pain.

'Use enough lube?' he asked as he slipped his shaft out of my daughter's ravaged
ass and wiped it thoroughly on her lingerie to clean himself off.

'Are you kidding,' Slim said, 'I practically used half a tube on her. Her
asshole's way too tight. This bitch is defective.'

'Yeah well we're probably gonna have to waste her,' Red muttered, 'some bitches
just don't have the stretch to take it up the ass. Check out her fuckhole just
in case. You can't win 'em all. One thing's for sure. This one here is terrific.
Her holes are top of the line.'

Again the sinister reference to wasting me. And again I decided that he meant he
was going to have to discard me. It had to mean that. Why would they want to
kill me? These men were obviously professional slavers. They took women captive
and sold them for money. It was horrible enough. But at least they didn't kill
them. Why would they kill me? Simply because my intimate parts didn't meet their
grotesque and obscene requirements? It was too absurd. I tore my mind away from
it.

'OK Red, whatever,' Slim growled, 'I'll do her cunt. Give it a good hard
workout. Maybe we'll get lucky. Don't hold your breath though.' Now I was to be
raped vaginally. I wondered dimly if Beth and I would ever recover from this
ordeal once we were freed. If we were ever freed, I thought bitterly.

Holly's Home Invasion
Part 4

I squirmed as I felt the rapist touch my vaginal lips, spread them open, fondle
the soft sensitive flesh at the entrance to my pussy. I was bitterly aware of
how well I had been secured for this ordeal, my wrists roped tightly and
painfully at the small of my back, my mouth brutally gagged, my legs spread and
shackled at the ankles to the legs of a dining table that had been converted
into a makeshift raping rack. My feet felt numb in their restraints. The rapist
had ratcheted the cuffs viciously tight. The metal bindings bit relentlessly
into my flesh. Red circled the table and stood behind me.

'Mind if I watch?' he asked.

'Be my guest,' my rapist replied. I reddened, humiliatingly conscious of how I
was presented to the two men, bent over with my white silk panties taped to the
side to allow unhindered access to my most intimate parts. I bit down on my gag
as Slim teased open my inner lips, briefly reamed the entrance to my passage,
then pushed in deeper and slowly masturbated my vaginal walls

'I wanna get her nice and wet first,' Slim remarked as he reamed me, plowing my
pussy with his fingers, 'buyers don't like to have to use lube when they're
sampling the merchandise.'

'Yeah Slim,' Red commented dryly, 'I read the manual too. You can't blame 'em.
All of 'em like to see a bitch cream her fuckhole before she takes it. It helps
sell the merchandise. I don't see you doing her clit, Slim. Work her clit.'

'I'm getting around to it,' Slim muttered. As I stood helplessly bent over,
tears of humiliation streaming down my face, the hood on my clitoris was slipped
back to expose my nub. This too was fingered and masturbated. The rapist rubbed
my clit relentlessly, pressing down hard on the tender flesh, bruising it with
rough hard strokes of his callused finger, rubbing it raw. It hurt.

'It's not working,' Slim muttered after what seemed like more than five minutes
of bruising masturbation. 'The bitch is still dry. Fucking tough nut to crack.' 

'Lemme give it a try,' Red said, 'you're too heavy on the clit. Some bitches
need a lighter touch.'

'Suit yourself.' Slim withdrew his hand, 'but I can tell you already that her
cunt's too fucking loose. It sags. You want my honest opinion? Waste her. She's
no fucking good.' 

'I wanna give her a chance,' Red said, 'if we waste her it only gives us one
decent piece of merchandise for a whole fucking afternoon's work.' He stepped up
behind me, parted my labia, and slipped his fingers inside me, subjecting the
tender flesh of my nub to a soft insidious massage. It was hideously effective.
After a minute or two of quiet masturbation I felt the first stirrings of
arousal in my loins, a humiliating moistening of my captive pussy.

Betrayed by my hormones, I thought bitterly. I felt wretched.

'She's getting there,' the rapist remarked as he softly caressed my clit,
provoking another mortifying surge of wetness in my vagina. I felt a degrading
desire for penetration, for a swift impalement that would relieve the dreadful
tension of the forced masturbation. 'She's starting to cream. I can feel it
coming. You gotta finger 'em just right. This one needs just a little more work
and she'll be nice and wet and ready for fucking.'

'You're shitting me,' Slim said.

'I shit you not. She's creaming. Right sweetheart?' he murmured as he softly
coaxed my clit. 'You wanna get fucked, you know you do, sweetheart. I can tell.
You want it bad. You wanna a nice hard cock inside of that sweetly creamed
fuckhole of yours. Come on, baby. Give it to me. Gimme a little more cunt juice,
just a little more and you're gonna feel a lot better real soon.'

It was dreadful. I was almost fully lubricated. Disgust and self-loathing
overwhelmed me. I peed. A hot stream of urine jetted from my hole directly into
the rapist's fingers and hand.

'Fuck,' Red cursed angrily as he abruptly withdrew his hand, 'the fucking bitch
peed all over me. Fucking cunt.' The rapist pulled my labia painfully apart and
dealt me a half dozen stingingly sharp slaps directly on the raw exposed flesh
of my pussy. The vaginal spanking drove muffled grunts of pain out of my gagged
mouth.

'You're one hell of piece of work, lady, you know that?' Red snarled as he
finished spanking my pussy and lay his hand on my ass, the side of it that had
been bared by the taping of my stretched underwear. 'You fucking asked for
this,' he grated. I knew that my bared asscheek was about to be spanked as well.

It came a moment later, humiliating and painful, a series of twenty or thirty
punitive slaps on my naked cheek swiftly administered with the flat of the hand.
As I stood helplessly bent over, sobbing into the gagging cloths stuffed inside
my mouth, I could see my daughter's face raised from the table, her tearful eyes
above her gag strap staring unbelievingly at the spectacle of her mother being
soundly and painfully spanked. I averted my eyes, my face red with shame. The
spanking hurt. It hurt badly. My buttcheek throbbed and smarted. But the
humiliation was much worse than the pain. It brought back long suppressed
memories of the few times I'd been spanked as a little girl, the shame I'd felt
when I was bent over with my panties pulled down around my knees for the
punishment, the swift sharp slaps on my young tender cheeks, the bitter tears,
the humiliating redness and soreness afterwards. I never thought I would ever
have to suffer it again as a grown woman, never dreamed that it would occur when
I was bound, gagged and freshly raped. Or that the humiliating spanking would be
administered in front of my own daughter. I wept bitterly. The rapist finished
the spanking with a couple of stingingly hard smacks then shoved his finger back
between my tenderized lips, rubbing my clit until it was sore. I stayed dry, my
earlier arousal mercifully suppressed by the peeing and the painful punishment
that followed it.

'Still dry, huh?' the rapist growled angrily, 'fucking cunt. You wanna get dry
fucked? Be my guest. Dry fuck the bitch, Slim. Let her know what it feels like.'

'With pleasure,' Slim responded grimly, 'screw the fucking lubrication. The
bitch is no damn good anyway. A good painful dry fuck oughtta give her something
to think about while she's tied up in the van waiting to get wasted.'

He stepped up, inserted his stiff member between my raw and throbbing labia and
thrust it deeply and painfully into my unlubricated pussy, making me scream out
in pain. Fully impaled on the rapist's thick shaft with its tip reaching my
cervix, my entire vagina was on fire as though a red-hot poker had been thrust
through it. I screamed repeatedly into my gagging cloths as the rapist drove
into my raw and ravaged pussy at least two dozen times before he came to orgasm.
I felt him stiffen inside me as he ejaculated. A loathsome stream of hot semen
sprayed upward against my cervix and splattered over my womb. I shuddered in my
bonds. It was the middle of my month, I could still bear children. I wondered
bitterly if the rapist had already impregnated me with his hideous seed. My
ravished pussy felt horribly defiled.

I looked hopelessly at Beth. She had never stopped watching, had seen her mother
humiliatingly spanked, then brutally and painfully raped in front of her very
eyes. Her head strained upward above the tabletop, her tautly knotted gag strap
soaked with drool, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. I turned my face
away. In a sudden surge of despair I bit down on my gag and ground my wrists
against the tightly knotted bindings, using the pain of the bondage to try and
tear my mind away from the dreadful defilement of my body. I had been raped,
violated, indelibly branded by the rapist's hot shaft as though a branding iron
had been mercilessly pressed into my bare flesh to sear it and mark me. In a
terrible moment of awareness, I knew I would bear the scarring of my ravishment
until I went to my grave. I felt numbed with shame and self-loathing. 

The rapist withdrew, slipping his shaft smoothly from inside my sopping wet
pussy, wiping it off on my already soiled underwear. I could feel the slimy
liquid oozing out of me, running down the insides of my thighs, soaking the
crotchband of my panties between my legs. The spent semen clung hideously to my
skin. From my prone position on the raping table, I could see the clock on the
mantelpiece at the other end of the room. It read six PM. Two hours since the
nightmare began. It seemed like days. In the interim Beth and I had been
ruthlessly bound and gagged, humiliatingly photographed in our bonds, then
brutally raped and sodomized. Two hours ago Beth and I had been basking in the
afternoon sun in our shorts, laughing and enjoying a Sunday visit together. Now
we both stood bent over my dining table stripped to our underwear, shackled, our
hands tied behind our backs, our panties taped back, our intimate organs
casually and brutally ravished to determine if we were worth selling as slaves.
Beth had been earmarked for enslavement. I was due to be "wasted," whatever that
meant. Why? Why had we ever done to deserve this? Why had this happened? Why had
they picked on us? Why Beth and me? It was all so horribly unfair, so savage and
brutal. I wept bitterly.

I heard Slim talking. 'I'm just telling you what you've been telling me. A tight
nicely creamed fuckhole is what sells your merchandise. That's what I've been
hearing from you all these months. And a good user-friendly asshole. With this
bitch it's all back to front. Her cunt's too fucking loose, she can't cream it
or won't and her butthole's too damn tight to use. Good luck if you wanna sell
her.'

'OK, Slim,' Red replied, 'I hear you. The bitch is defective. At least you got
to shoot your load up her fuckhole. Get her down on the floor and hogtie her
ass. Do it good. We'll load her up in the van together with this other one here
and get rid of her. The usual M.O. I'll get on the phone to Jim over at the
Farm, make sure he gets some of his girls to dig a hole for her.'

'You bet,' Slim chuckled, 'I'll make sure she's hogtied good and tight for the
trip. And that cum oughtta cake up nicely on her legs, give her something more
to think about. OK bitch,' he snarled at me, 'you heard what the man said. Let's
get you off that table and down on the floor.

Get rid of her. The usual M.O. Dig a hole for her. It was horribly true,
horribly and terrifyingly true. These men were killers. Not just rapists and
white slavers. Killers. They murdered women in cold blood. The two women from
the bridge party had been killed with their hands tied and their mouths bound
with gags simply because their intimate parts didn't meet the horribly obscene
requirements of their captors. Whoever these men didn't "collect" they killed. I
couldn't believe it. I stood bent over in my bindings frozen with fear,
terrified, sobbing. The fear of death gnawed grimly at my gut.

Slim's hands were at my ankles, unlocking them from the brutal shackles that
bound them to the table legs. With my feet free for the first time and driven by
desperation, I bucked and struggled, tore myself up from the table, and twisted
away from my captors. Kicking at them and evading their grasping hands, I ducked
and literally ran for my life, hands still tied behind my back, bare legs
scissoring frantically. I made a beeline for the front door. I turned and
quickly reached for the handle with my bound hands. My heart sank. The door was
bolted from the inside, the bolt too high to reach with my hands. Gagged as I
was I couldn't even attack it with my teeth. I stood trapped against the door,
paralyzed with fear, as Slim closed in on me, his teeth bared, his lips
contorted with anger. Without a word he tackled me down to the floor, rolled me
over face down and dealt me a brutal series of hard painful blows to my lower
back with his fist. The beating left me in terrible pain, crying and gasping for
breath, unable even to struggle as the rapist wrenched my legs together and
crossed my ankles. I looked fearfully over my shoulder at him through my tears.
He was glaring at me, a noosed length of white cotton rope stretched tautly
between his hands, ready to be slipped over my crossed ankles. He must have
grabbed it from the sofa as he pursued me.

'Head down on the floor,' he barked, 'all the way down.'

I lowered my head meekly to the floor and winced with pain as I felt the bite of
the rope being tugged viciously tight around my ankles. With my bare breasts
pressed heavily against the floor, my tightly bound feet were pulled up roughly
behind my back and lashed firmly to my crossed wrists. It was swiftly and
expertly done. In less than a minute I had been brutally hogtied. Hogtied. I had
seen it countless times on TV and in the movies, the victims lying prostrate
with their wrists and ankles humiliatingly lashed together behind their backs,
completely immobilized, unable to move an inch. I had always cringed at the
awful images, thought how cruel, how inhuman to bind even an animal in that
disgusting and degrading fashion let alone a human being. Now it had been done
to me. I had been tied like a calf for branding, like a hog for slaughter. Even
the word for it was insulting and demeaning. I lay trembling on the floor,
gagged and stripped, freshly raped, mercilessly trussed for transport and final
disposal. The perfect victim, I thought bitterly.

'OK, that's done,' Red averred, 'looks like her running days are over. Anybody
else wanna fuck this superb piece of ass here before we hogtie her for the trip
back? We're definitely collecting this one. Any takers? Slim?'

'Nah, I'll do her when we get to the cabin,' Slim replied. He was breathing
heavily. 'We already know she's good to sell. Besides I wanna take my time
fucking her.'

'Right, how about you, Jerry? You still with us?'

'You know what, Red, you can go fuck yourself.' Jerry muttered. He was still
sitting on the sofa. I could hear the soft clicking of the handcuffs as he toyed
with them. He threw them down and got up, his eyes glowering with rage through
the holes in his ski mask.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 5


'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?' Red growled.

'It means you fucked me over, you fucking sonofabitch,' Jerry blurted out
furiously, 'that gun's mine. I found it and you suckered me out of it.' His
voice mutated to a sarcastic mimicry of the other man's. 'We're a team, Jerry,
gimme the gun, Jerry.' He glared fiercely at Red. 'Yeah, we're a great fucking
team all right. I want that gun back, Red, and I want it now. Gimme the fucking
gun, motherfucker.'

'So that's what this is all about, huh?' Red's tone was low, evenly pitched,
laced with menace. 'This isn't about me fucking the bitch while you were
upstairs taking a crap. This is about the fucking gun.' His lips curled angrily
as he advanced on the other man, his hands balled into fists. 'You want that
fucking gun, motherfucker?' he snarled, 'you wanna have it? How about if I let
you have my fist in your fucking teeth instead of the gun?'

He threw his fist and smashed it viciously into the other man's mouth. I heard a
crunching noise and saw Jerry spit out a tooth. Blood ran from his mouth down
his chin. Jerry raised a hand to his mouth, saw the blood and stared at Red
disbelievingly. With a swift sudden movement, he drew his gun, the one he had
used to subdue me before binding me. He pointed it at Red's head.

'You fucking scumbag,' he spat, 'you want a fucking bullet through your head? I
want the gun. Hand it over. Pull it out slowly and hand it to me and I'm outta
here. You can keep your fucking cunts.' He kept his weapon aimed at Red, his gun
hand extended and rigid, his other hand clenched furiously at his side.

I tugged futilely at my bonds, suddenly terrified at the simmering rage that
threatened to boil over into murderous violence. Beth too was struggling,
rearing backwards, trying to tear herself from the table, grunts of desperation
issuing from behind her gag. Her hands writhed helplessly at the small of her
back and her cuffs rattled noisily against the table legs as she struggled to
free herself. I saw Slim give her a brief glance, step behind her and push her
back down with a quick shove at the back of her head. Her face fell heavily on
the tabletop. She lay there sobbing, her legs quivering, her hands twitching
fitfully in their bindings like the wings of a trapped bird.

'Put the fucking gun down, Jerry.' It was Slim. He had drawn his gun, aimed it
at Jerry's chest. 'Put the gun down!' he barked, 'now! This shit ends right
now!' Jerry glanced at him, third fingered him and cocked his weapon, kept it
pointed at Red's head. Two shots rang out. Then another two shots. I heard a
gasp and saw Jerry clutch at his chest and fall heavily to the floor. His body
spasmed then lay still. Blood oozed from two wounds in his chest and trickled
down on the tiled floor. 

'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.' I heard Red scream out, 'he fucking shot me.' He was
clutching his shoulder. I strained my head and stared at Beth, terrified that
she might have been hit in the crossfire. I grunted frantically at her, praying
that she was all right. She raised her head, whimpered at me from behind her
gag, a muted mewling of panic and fear. Her eyes were round, wild with terror.
But at least she was unharmed. I stole a glance at her legs and looked away in
disgust. Drying semen caked her thighs at the crotch and her panties still clung
wetly to her buttocks. Like my own, they were still revoltingly soaked with
ejaculate. A mother and daughter freshly raped, bound and gagged, one lying
hogtied on the floor, the other still bent over the raping rack in her
semen-logged lingerie, two armed rapists standing over a dead body that lay
bleeding on the floor, the scene in my living room was like a scene from hell.

'He's dead, right?' It was Slim.

'Yeah,' Red grunted as he stared at Jerry's prostrate and bleeding body, 'he's
gone all right. I fucking owe you one.'

'Forget about it. How about you? You hit bad?'

Red grimaced. 'Fucking bullet went through my shoulder. I'll live.'

'Fuck. He could have killed you.'

'Yeah. Well he fucking got what was coming to him. You know what? We got a real
major problem on our hands. Some motherfucker could've heard those shots.'

'No shit. We gotta get the hell outta here.' Slim looked down at my gagged and
hogtied body on the floor, then at Beth still standing bent over the raping
table, naked and shackled, her body trembling with shock. 'What about these
cunts?' he asked, 'leave 'em behind, waste 'em both, what do we do?'

'Leave 'em behind? Forget about it, no fucking way. They go with us. Look around
and see if you can find some ID for the cunt on the table so we can  tag her.
There's some handbags on a table by the door. I went through 'em when we came in
but I was looking for cash, not ID.'

'OK, I'll go check,' Slim said. A moment later he was back with our driving
licenses.

'Guess what,' he muttered, 'looks like we bagged a mother and daughter here.'

'No shit?'

'Yep, I found their ID's. The older cunt's name is Holly Butler, age 44. The one
on the table's called Beth. Same family name. Butler. She's 24.'

'How about that,' Red murmured, 'gimme the fucking ID, the one for the chick.
Slim handed it to him. Red went to the sofa clutching his wounded shoulder and
picked up one of the white plastic straps that lay there amid the ropes and
gags, flex cuffs as I knew they were called, used by police to handcuff people
arrested during civil disturbances. I remembered the intimidating pictures I'd
seen in the papers and on television, groups of ordinary men and women sitting
on the ground like captured prisoners on a battlefield with their hands
humiliatingly strapped behind their backs by means of these loathsome plastic
restraints. I watched the rapist pull a staple gun from his pocket and staple
the plastic strap to my daughter's driving license, watched him step over to
where she lay sobbing on the table and fasten it to one of her wrists above the
rope bindings. Earmarked for enslavement, I thought bitterly, tagged like an
item of merchandise marked for sale. I saw Beth cringe as the cuff was strapped
in place and ratcheted tightly around her wrist behind her.

'Nicely tied, gagged and tagged,' he murmured as he patted her panties and
casually ran an exploratory finger over her still moist and glistening vaginal
lips. 'You're all set, sweetheart,' he told her, 'you're a good kid. Just hang
in there and we're gonna find you a nice buyer. Hogtie this cunt, Slim. Do it
tight but no nerve damage. I want her in good shape for the sale. This is one
fucking good piece of merchandise.'

'You got it,' Slim said. He moved to the sofa, picked up some rope and squatted
down behind my bound and shackled daughter, now freshly tagged for slavery. She
fidgeted in her bonds, aware that she was about to be hogtied like her mother.
She looked at me helplessly, her eyes glazed from the trauma of the rape and the
terrible awareness of her enslavement. A sudden image flashed through my mind of
Beth as I had seen her when I was bound over the raping table, her face
contorted with pain, her mouth opened in a muffled scream around the tautly
bound gag strap as her rapist plowed savagely into her defenseless ass. The
image lingered painfully in my mind.

'Tell you what,' Red mused, 'maybe we don't waste the older cunt, what's her
name, Holly? What do you say we collect the two of 'em and sell 'em as a pair?
We won't even get a buck for mom here on her own but say we throw her in with
her daughter. We might be able to clear like, what? 85 thousand for the two of
'em? It depends if we can get the right buyer. Some of 'em go for mother and
daughter combos. Turns 'em on.' 

A dim glimmer of hope pierced the grim darkness. I clung to it and prayed
silently. At that moment I would have given everything I had to have lain there
with a slave tag fastened to one of my wrists behind my back. Bondage and
slavery, bitter as it was, was better than dying, I thought grimly.

'I dunno, Red,' Slim muttered. Intent on his task, he had lashed a length of the
white cotton rope to one of Beth's shackled ankles and unlocked the hinged
handcuff that secured it to the table. The shackling had bruised her. The
markings of her confinement were plainly visible, two red lines grooved into the
flesh all the way around her ankle. The rapist swiftly shifted Beth to one side
and roped her feet together before unlocking the second set of cuffs from the
table.

'Can't have you pulling the same fucking stunt as your mom,' he told her.
Released from the table and bound hand and foot, Beth swayed and lost her
balance. The rapist caught her as she fell sideways and dropped her face down on
the floor next to where I lay. She landed on her breasts. An agonized groan
escaped from behind her gag as she gasped for air.

'Easy on the merchandise, Slim,' Red told him sharply.

'She's OK, just a little winded. Aren't you, sweetheart?' Slim bent down and
pulled Beth's head up by her hair, forced it back to look at her face. She was
crying. Her eyes gazed at him hopelessly.

'She's fine,' the rapist said coldly. He released Beth's hair, allowed her head
to flop back on the floor. 'Sell the two of 'em as a pair?' he went on, 'think
about what you're saying, Red. Like you said yourself, you're gonna need the
right buyer for that, some dude who fucking wants a mother and daughter. I
dunno. It could take weeks to find him, if you ask me.' Working swiftly, he
folded Beth's legs at the knees, pushed her feet down smartly against the backs
of her thighs and lashed her ankles tautly and securely to her crossed wrists.
She groaned with pain as her limbs struggled to adjust to their brutally
uncomfortable confinement. The rapist tied off the knots on her bindings with a
few quick hard tugs at her wrists and stood up.

'And what the fuck are we gonna get,' Slim went on, 'for the extra hassle of
keeping these two cunts locked up in a holding cell for all that time, feeding
'em, watering 'em, soaping 'em down so they're nice and clean for the buyers,
making sure the cuffs and leg irons go back on every fucking time they gotta be
walked to the crapper. Ten K? Fifteen K maybe? While all we gotta do is sell the
chick on her own. She'll sell tomorrow or the next day. We get rid of her and we
can concentrate on bagging the next bunch. The numbers just don't add up.'

'I hear you,' Red muttered.

'Yeah I'm telling you, holding on to mom here is a big fucking mistake. I say
waste the bitch and get it over with. Just gimme the word and I'll do her
myself. We can dump her body along with Jerry's. I mean, shit, it's not like her
holes are any fucking good. Every piece of merchandise has got to be able to
sell itself, that's what you always tell me.'

Red hesitated for a moment. 'OK, Slim' he said finally, 'you're probably right.
Fuck it. We're running outta time. Load 'em up in the van, one at a time. Jerry
too. The mother goes in first.' 

I was to be killed. I felt horribly cold. I gazed wistfully at my daughter. She
lay beside me helplessly trussed for transport, her ID cuffed to one of her
wrists, her hands and feet lashed securely behind her back, her eyes staring
hopelessly at me over her gag. I wished there were some way I could let her know
how much I loved her, how much it hurt to have to say good bye to her like this,
gagged and hogtied beside her for loading and execution. At least she would
live. Ruthlessly enslaved but alive. I broke out in tears and wept bitterly.

At that moment, there was a knock on the front door.

The two men froze. I prayed desperately that it was the police. Or at least one
of the neighbors who might have heard the shots. Then I heard a woman's voice
and my heart sank through the floor.

'You there, Beth?' the woman called out. I knew at once who it was. It was
Belinda, the assistant librarian at the school where I taught, a friend of
Beth's. She'd called early this morning telling me she might drop in late in the
afternoon, pick up Beth and go out with her to a disco. I'd forgotten about it
completely in the trauma of the assault. Red was suddenly at my side, crouching
and holding a knife to my throat. I lay very still in my bindings, terrified,
trembling with fear. I could feel the sharp edge of the blade against my neck.

'Who the fuck is it? Friend of your daughter's?' he hissed. I nodded weakly. He
moved away, padded silently to the door and peered through the peephole,
clutching his wounded shoulder.

'Whaddya know,' he muttered, 'cute chick, nice tits, good legs, dressed like a
fucking whore.' I shuddered. Poor Belinda. If only there were some way I could
warn her, I thought desperately. But there was nothing I could do. The expertly
applied gag saw to that. Red ran back to where I lay hogtied, jammed his knife
back against my throat and signaled to Slim.

'Open the fucking door and get her in here,' he whispered. Slim moved swiftly to
the door. He unbolted it and swung it open, gun in hand.

Belinda's eyes widened in horror as she saw the rapist's gun pointed at her
midriff, saw the hellish scene of rape and murder that had been played out in my
living room. My daughter and I lying face down on the floor, stripped and
gagged, helplessly hogtied with our lingerie in disarray and our thighs caked
with drying semen, both of us freshly and visibly raped, a dead man lying
bleeding on the floor, a masked intruder at my throat holding a knife to it. The
look of horror turned to one of sheer terror. Belinda's mouth gaped open in a
scream. She turned to run. Slim moved in behind her, quickly clamped a hand over
her mouth and jammed his gun up against her neck.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 6


'I'd stay put if I was you,' Slim growled at the terrified girl, 'unless you
want a bullet through your neck while you watch that woman in there getting her
throat cut.' Belinda stared at him, her eyes wide with panic and terror above
her assailant's brutally restraining grip on her jaws.

'So how about it?' Slim grated, 'you gonna behave yourself?' The hand-gagged
girl nodded fearfully.

'Good choice, sweetheart,' Slim muttered, 'now get your fucking ass inside the
house. Move it. On the double.' Still hand-gagged and with the rapist's gun
jammed against her neck, Belinda was hustled and manhandled into the living
room. Once inside she stood trembling with shock, petrified by the grim sight of
the bleeding body on the floor and the humiliating spectacle of Beth and me
lying on our bellies in panties and gag straps with our hands and feet roped up
tightly behind our backs. Belinda was dressed to go out, wore a brief red
minidress ruffled at the hem that showcased her long shapely legs and clung
provocatively to her slender body. A pair of red stiletto heeled shoes completed
the outfit. I knew Belinda loved showing off her body, even at work. There
wasn't a boy or girl or teacher at school who hadn't had at one time or another
caught ample glimpses of her lingerie under the scandalously brief skirts and
tight transparent blouses she liked to wear. It was a standing joke among the
staff. The principal had even taken it up with her, mentioning dress codes and
so on, all to no avail. The girl cringed as Slim shoved her up against the wall.

'Hands on top of your head,' he ordered, 'clasp your fingers together.'

Belinda raised her arms and clasped her hands nervously on her head. The
movement hiked up her brief minidress and exposed her lingerie, a short white
silk slip and matching pair of panties lined with floral patterns of lace trim
at the hem. Slim moved in behind her, kicked her legs apart to the rear and
pushed her body forward to force her to lean on her forehead against the wall. I
had been placed the same way before being bound and I knew how effective it was,
understood why the police used it to subdue suspects. Placed in that position
and denied the use of one's hands one was effectively helpless, pinned to the
wall by one's own body weight pressing down on the forehead. It wasn't pleasant.
I remembered the strain in my thighs when I'd stood pinned against the wall
waiting for Jerry to tie my hands. I could see Red gazing at Belinda's lingerie.

'Nice catch,' he commented, 'good tits. Cute pair of legs too. I like her
underwear.You can leave her slip on along with the panties when you strip her.'
He got up and moved to the sofa, picked up a couple of lengths of white cotton
rope and two strips of linen gagging cloth, tossed them to Slim. 'Tie her up',
he told him. Belinda started crying.

'Please,' she sobbed, 'you don't have to do that. I'll do whatever you say.'

'You bet you will,' Slim grunted as he wrenched her arms down behind her back.
He crossed her wrists and slipped a noosed and doubled coil of rope around them.
Belinda winced as it was drawn tight, her hands twitching and fidgeting under
the noose.

'Why do I have to be tied?' she cried out, 'please, I've told you I'll do
everything you want.' Tears were streaming down her face.

Slim ignored her. With swift practiced movements, he wrapped several turns of
rope around the captive's girl's wrists then threaded a few quick turns in
between, tugging savagely at the rope to cinch the bindings and weld them
tightly and firmly to the raw flesh.

'You're hurting me,' Belinda sobbed as the ropes bit painfully into her wrists.
I felt desperately sorry for her. These thugs were hideously efficient at their
trade. I was bitterly aware of how tightly and painfully my own hands had been
tied. And Beth's too. And Belinda's ordeal was only just beginning.

'Shut the fuck up,' her captor snapped as he knotted off her bonds with a quick
hard tug, 'it's gotta hurt. Get used to it. Open up for the gag.' He balled one
of the strips of cloth into a wad, held it in front of her mouth.

'Please,' she begged tearfully, 'not that. Please, I promise I'll be quiet. I
really will.' I watched as the now helpless girl tested her bindings, twisting
her wrists futilely against the harsh and cutting ropes.

'I said open up, cunt. You're gonna get gagged. We can do this the easy way or
the hard way, it's your call.'

'Oh God,' Belinda whimpered. She opened her mouth. A wadded strip of the linen
cloth was quickly thrust between her gaping jaws and strapped firmly in place
with a second strip cleaved between the teeth. 'Mmpph,' she grunted as the gag
was pulled tight and knotted securely at the back of her neck.

'Comfy?' Slim sneered as bent to Belinda's ankles and swiftly fastened a one
foot length of rope between them to hobble her. With his captive helplessly
gagged and bound Slim straightened up, drew his knife and cut through her short
red minidress at the seam. It fell to the floor as she was swiftly and expertly
stripped. Two quick cuts severed the shoulder straps of her lacy white bra. They
hung uselessly as a third cut ripped noisily through the fabric of the
undergarment at her back. The bra fell away, baring her breasts and leaving the
captive girl sobbing and quivering in her white silk panties and slip.

'OK, she's prepped. Looks a helluva lot better already,' the rapist muttered as
he picked up the shredded garments and threw them on a chair, 'fucking damn
shame we gotta get outta here. No time to fuck her. Can't even do the ass and
cunt shots. You want me to run a quick T&L on her?'

'You bet,' Red nodded, 'if she pans out, we can fuck her when we get her to the
cabin.'

T&L. I wondered dimly what it meant. Whatever it was it couldn't be pleasant. I
watched Slim run his hands up Belinda's thighs, hike her slip up around her
waist and lower her panties to mid thigh to expose her. The lacy white fabric
lay obscenely stretched between her spread thighs. Belinda sobbed as the rapist
thrust two fingers between her bared vaginal lips and a third finger into her
ass. The twinned penetrations were visibly painful. The captive girl screamed
into her gag as her violated openings were swiftly reamed and tested. I gazed at
the defilement, horribly transfixed by the sight of a woman being stripped of
her dignity. Helplessly pinned to the wall and denied the use of her hands,
ruthlessly gagged and stripped, her lingerie humiliatingly handled and pushed
aside, her most intimate parts swiftly penetrated and reamed to determine if she
was suitable for enslavement, the freshly captured woman had been degraded and
debased to the level of a slave in a matter of a few brief minutes. I wasn't all
that fond of Belinda, had always seen her as a bit of a slut, had worried about
her relationship with Beth. But no one deserved to be thrust into this hell, I
thought grimly..

'Holes are good,' the rapist commented with satisfaction as he wiped his hand
off on the bound girl's panties, pulled the skimpy garment back up over her hips
and straightened out her slip, 'the asshole snugs up nicely and the cunt's good
and tight with lots of lubrication. Her fuckhole was already wet before I even
got inside. Didn't even have to work the fucking clit. Can you believe that?' So
T&L stood for tightness and lubrication. I supposed these psychopaths thought
that was funny. But above all, I was appalled to learn that Belinda had already
lubricated without even being forcibly masturbated. I could hear her sobbing
against the wall.

'Bitch probably gets it on by getting tied up,' Red muttered, 'lemme check her
myself,' He approached the bound captive and shoved his hand between her legs.

'Beautiful,' he commented as he felt her up, 'very very nice. She's creamed her
panties. Haven't seen that in a helluva long time.' I watched as he pushed
Belinda's silk panties aside and inserted his fingers inside her vagina.

'Wow!' he exclaimed, 'this is one sopping wet fuckhole! What's up, sweetheart?
Like getting tied and gagged? Enjoying it? You're gonna get a helluva lot more
of it where you're going, trust me on that.' As I watched dumbfounded, the bound
girl ground her hips and rubbed her violated vagina vigorously back and forth
against her assailant's hand. A moment later, a muffled groan of pleasure
escaped from behind her gag as she spasmed violently. A loathsome stream of hot
liquid jetted out of her pussy and formed a puddle on the tiled floor.

'Fuck,' Red exclaimed as he jerked his hand out from between her legs, 'the
bitch fucking came all over me. Can't fucking believe it.' He raised his hand to
his face, pulled his mask up to bare his nostrils and sniffed at the liquid.

'Sure it ain't just pee?' Slim asked.

'Pee my ass,' Red snorted, 'you gotta be kidding. This is Grade A vitamin D
enriched cunt juice, freshly squeezed. Smells nice and raunchy too. You fucking
bagged us a bondage slut here, Slim. Good work. Outstanding. You know what these
sell for? Over 100 K. They practically don't need any training, just a couple
days work to break 'em in and they're ready to go.'

I suddenly remembered a brief conversation I'd had with Beth about two months
before. I’d been visiting with her, making her bed, something she rarely took
time to do. As I bent down I noticed a pair of shiny steel handcuffs lying on
the floor, half concealed by the bedspread. I had picked them up. 'What are
these for,' I'd asked her. Beth had reddened visibly, mumbled that they were for
sex. ‘Sex?’ I said to her, ‘are you kidding me? Are you into that?’ 'Mom,’ she
protested, ‘everybody’s kinky one way or another. OK, so I like getting
handcuffed for sex, big deal. You ought to see what Belinda's into. Real heavy
stuff, hard bondage like you wouldn’t believe.’ I had shrugged and dropped the
subject, but it had left me with an unpleasant feeling. I couldn't understand a
woman being aroused by bondage, even consensual bondage. And, in Belinda's case,
the bondage had been forcibly applied. She hadn't acted as though she enjoyed
it. She had feared being bound, had resisted it like any normal woman would, had
even wept as the bonds were painfully applied to her flesh. And yet she had
lubricated, almost in spite of herself, had even brought herself to orgasm. It
was beyond me, too sick and perverted for words. I had been right to worry about
her friendship with Beth, I thought to myself.

'So we're collecting her?' Slim asked.

'You fucking better believe it, buddy,' Red grunted, 'anyway fuck this shit. I'm
gonna give this horny bitch something to remember me by while we're hauling her
ass out to the cabin.' He tore Belinda from the wall and dragged her kicking and
screaming to the sofa, bent her over the arm rest at the waist and ground her
face into the pile of ropes that lay strewn over the cushions. Draped over the
sofa like a Raggedy Ann doll with her hands tied behind her back, the poor girl
was helplessly positioned for back entry rape, her legs hanging uselessly over
the armrest. The rapist flipped up her slip, pulled her panties down to her
knees and quickly applied a dab of lubricant to her defenseless butthole,
rubbing it vigorously into the lining with swift hard strokes of his fingers.
With his victim thoroughly lubricated, he slipped his huge thick shaft into her
glistening butthole and rammed it home. The swift ruthless impalement drew out a
scream of pain from the bound and gagged girl, the scream effectively and
thoroughly muffled by the gag and by the ropes and sofa cushions enveloping her
face. Belinda screamed repeatedly into her gagging cloths as the rapist pumped
her savagely, hammering his shaft into her ass with relentless and uncontrolled
fury until he spasmed. At the very moment of ejaculation he abruptly whipped his
erect and throbbing member out of his victim's ass and played it over her bared
buttocks and thighs. Loathsome jets of thick white semen spurted out and
splattered on her flesh. The rapist reserved his last few spurts for Belinda's
clean white lingerie leaving her hiked up slip and stretched panties thoroughly
and revoltingly impregnated with semen. His lust sated, he wiped his dripping
member off on her soiled underwear, got up and looked down at his prey. Belinda
lay prone on the sofa, her legs hanging limply over the armrest, her body
quivering with shock at the swiftness and brutality of her rape. She sobbed
brokenly into her gag.

'How'd that feel, honey?' he sneered, 'as good for you as it was for me? Wish
you could talk to me about it, tell me about the afterglow. Maybe you'll get a
chance to tell me about it later when we get that gag off you.' He tugged his
victim's sodden panties up around her waist, patted down her slip and turned to
Slim.

'Talk about user friendly,' he gushed, 'this has gotta be the butthole of the
year. Her ass fits like a glove, snugs up around your dick and squeezes out your
cum like a fucking juicer. Never seen anything like it. This bitch is cheap at
100 K. Betcha we can sell her for a helluva lot more.'

'You're kidding me,' Slim said.

'I kid you not. Anyhow, back to business. Get this horny bitch down on the floor
and hogtie her ass. And make damn sure you don't leave her with nerve damage on
her ankles or wrists. We got two fucking great of pieces of ass outta this job
so let's do this right. And hand me the cunt's handbag for her ID tag.'

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 7

by Andromeda


I watched as Slim tore the freshly raped young woman from the sofa and threw her
face down on the floor next to me. Belinda's hands twisted futilely behind her
back as the slaver slapped and prodded her legs to align them for binding,
lashed them firmly at the ankles then pulled them up smartly behind her,
anchoring them to her wrists with a few quick turns of rope. Muffled groans of
pain emerged from behind the girl's gag as the lashings were yanked tight to
bind her limbs into a taut bundle of helplessly trapped flesh at the small of
her back. Fully immobilized, Belinda lay sobbing in her bonds, her normally
attractive features contorted with strain and anguish as the harshly tied ropes
tore at her ankles and wrists. His brutal task completed, Slim quickly cuffed
her ID tag to one of her bound wrists at the small of her back then checked her
gag, tugging briefly at the cloth strap to make sure it lay tautly cleaved
between her jaws.

'Roped and ready,' Slim grunted as he gave Belinda's bonds a final pat. He
looked up at Red. 'Wanna check?'

'Yeah,' Red muttered as he bent down and examined the bindings, 'good ropework.
It'll cut her a little but she'll be OK. Probably stay with some bruising,
nothing to worry about. Buyers expect that. They even like seeing a little
damaged skin around the wrists and ankles. What they don't like is nerve damage.
Remember that cunt you tied up on your first job a couple years ago, that twenty
year old blonde in those flesh colored panties?'

Slim sighed. 'Not that again,' he mumbled.

'That's right, buddy,' Red went on relentlessly, 'she had a great body,
remember? Beautiful tits. Her fuckhole was terrific, just needed a couple of
quick tweaks on the clit and she was good and wet and ready for fucking. Good
butthole too. Nice and snug. I can't believe you hogtied that cunt so fucking
tight she couldn't even use her hands or stand up straight when we got her to
the cabin. Remember how the medic from the company checked her out, said it was
nerve damage from the tie-up? We had to waste her. Fucking loss. Probably cost
us 60 or 70 K.'

'Yeah,' Slim muttered, 'how the fuck can I forget it when you keep on reminding
me all the time. I been pretty fucking careful since that shit happened.'

'Yeah, right, just make sure it doesn't happen again. Get the blindfolds on 'em,
just the two we're collecting. Not the mother.' Red tossed a few strips of white
linen cloth to the other man then pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his
pocket lighter. He drew smoke into his lungs then flicked the ash on the sofa as
he stared impassively at his three tightly gagged and hogtied captives lying
helpless on the floor.

'Where we gonna dump Jerry and mom? Over at the farm?' Slim asked. He pulled my
daughter's head up by her hair, bound the wide strip of linen cloth over her
eyes and knotted it securely at the back of her head. Beth offered no
resistance. The look in her eyes before she was blindfolded was one of utter
hopelessness.

'Yeah, gimme a chance. I gotta set it up with Jim.' Red picked up Belinda's
driving license. 'The bondage slut's name is Belinda Baines. She's 24 years
old,' he told Slim. He stapled the license to a flex cuff and tossed it over to
his companion. Belinda wept freely as the slaver fastened her blindfold and
cuffed her ID to her wrist above the rope bindings. I was shocked at how the two
women looked in their blindfolds and gags, stunned that I could hardly recognize
their faces behind the demeaning and dehumanizing cloths. The combination of
blindfold and gag had turned them into anonymous captives, unnamed slaves roped
and secured at eyes and mouth for transport. They could have been anybody.

'No blindfold for mom?' Slim asked as he got up.

'What the fuck for? She's gonna be taking a bullet in the back of the head a
couple of hours from now. Think she's gonna remember what we look like after
that?' 

I choked back my tears as I heard the brutal sentence confirmed. Only two more
hours. I struggled briefly against my restraints, trying to find some momentary
relief from the relentless pressure of the ropes on my cramped limbs. There was
none. The bonds were like iron bands, securely and expertly tied. Stabs of pain
lanced through my wrists and ankles at the slightest movement. I couldn't even
move my jaws with my mouth forced open by the oppressive wadding of cloth
strapped in behind my teeth. Brutally gagged, roped and raped, I thought
bitterly, my daughter enslaved and myself earmarked for murder. I wondered dimly
how many other luckless women over the years had been forced to submit to this
terrifying and humiliating ordeal at the hands of these ruthless psychopaths.

'You can start loading 'em up,' Red said, 'take the mother first.'

I cringed as Slim grasped my hogtied body and hoisted me off the floor. I was
flung over his shoulder like a side of beef, ass to the front and head to the
rear, and hauled outside with my head bobbing up and down behind the slaver's
back. His loathsome hands were on my body, one hand gripping the backs of my
knees, the other buried inside my crotch and digging at my snatch in a
humiliating reminder of my rape. Suddenly I saw the kidnap van. It stood parked
behind a clump of trees about twenty feet from my home. I panicked at the sight
of it. I screamed for help through my gag, screamed over and over again as the
back door was rolled open and I was thrown inside. I landed heavily on my belly,
sobbing helplessly, bitterly aware of how well I'd been gagged. The wad and
strap were mercilessly efficient, expertly applied. My muzzled cries for help
could hardly have been heard more than a few feet away, let alone by someone in
one of the nearby homes.

'Try screaming a little harder, cunt,' the slaver sneered as he slammed the door
shut. I lay weeping brokenly as I heard him walk away leaving me helplessly
imprisoned behind the locked doors of the van, hogtied and terrified, horribly
conscious of the brief time I had left to live.

After what seemed like hours of excruciating confinement but was probably no
more than a few minutes the door to the van was rolled open again. There was a
muffled thump and a gag muted cry of pain as the stripped and bound body of a
woman was thrown inside. It was Beth. Like me, she'd been tossed into the van
like a sack of grain. She lay beside me on her tummy, weeping bitterly behind
her gag. Alone together for the first time since our capture, Beth and I cried
our hearts out. At length my spirits lifted slightly and my sobbing subsided. I
grunted softly at Beth, trying to let her know I was glad we were there
together. Even as they had left her, blindfolded and gagged, stripped and
freshly raped with her hands and feet bound behind her back, it was singularly
comforting to be there at her side. It made the wrenching fear of death easier
to bear. I writhed and twisted until I managed to slither over on to my side
with my back to my gagged and helplessly hogtied daughter. Ignoring the pain
that shot through my wrists I tugged relentlessly at my bonds until I could feel
my numbed hands touch hers and feel the answering squeeze of her fingers. After
a brief struggle against her ropes Beth also worked herself over on her side so
that the two of us could lie back to back with our hands touching. We lay there
together in silence, two stripped and gagged prisoners trussed for transport,
drawing what comfort we could from the physical contact of our numbed and
tightly bound hands.

After another fifteen minutes or so the door to the van was rolled open once
again and another bound bundle of captive female flesh tossed carelessly inside.
Belinda lay sobbing softly where she was thrown, her gagged and blindfolded face
pressed down against the flooring, her brief silk slip rucked up around her
hips, the backs of her slim thighs hideously laced with thick filaments of rape
semen. As I lay on my side I could see her ID tag cuffed to her wrist behind her
back. I gazed enviously at the tag, bitterly aware that of the three captives I
was the only one to have been denied a slave tag and a blindfold. If only they
had taken me too, I thought ruefully. I suddenly experienced a degrading longing
to be enslaved. Anything, I thought to myself, even bondage, rape and slavery,
was better than what I faced. Why did they have to kill me? I didn't want to
die. I was good at my work. I was a good teacher. With proper training I could
learn to be a good slave, learn to obey my masters, service them sexually when
ordered, accept the inevitable beatings and whippings they would mete out
whenever I misbehaved. I cursed myself, cursed the unwelcoming tautness of my
virgin butthole, cursed my prideful and pigheaded reluctance to lubricate my
vagina properly when I'd been masturbated on the raping table. If only I'd known
what the penalty would be if I failed to please. Now it was too late. Had I
known that my life depended on it, I would surely have been more forthcoming,
would have worked on relaxing my sphincter muscles to open my ass to the
slaver's shaft, allowed myself to fully and thoroughly raped through my rear
end. My compliance would surely have scored me a few points, helped show my
captors that I was worth enslaving. But above all, I would have focused on my
pussy, made sure I presented my captors with a well masturbated and pliantly
creamed vagina primed and ready for raping. Had I done what was required of me,
I would now be lying bound beside Beth and Belinda with a blindfold tied over my
eyes and a slave tag cuffed to my wrist behind my back, doubtlessly bitter at
having been captured, raped and enslaved but at least content that I'd been
allowed to live. Instead I'd been dry-raped, roped and marked for murder. For
the umpteenth time, I broke out in tears and sobbed bitterly.

The three of us lay there on the dirty and dusty flooring of the kidnap van
sobbing desperately until the door was rolled open for a fourth time. Outside
stood the two slavers, Slim carrying Jerry's body over his shoulder, his boss
standing a few feet behind him clutching his wounded shoulder that had been
bandaged with strips from one of my bedsheets. The white makeshift dressing was
stained with blood. Jerry's body was wrapped in plastic sheeting sealed with
duct tape. Slim looked inside.

'Bawling like fucking babies,' he growled, 'you can shut the fuck up now,
ladies. We got some nice company for you.' Our sobbing waxed even louder as
Jerry's body was flung into the van next to where Beth lay bound. There was a
dull sickening thud as it hit the flooring. I felt my daughter wriggle and twist
in her restraints as she drew closer to me, trying to move away from the grisly
package. I heard Slim curse. He slapped my hands away from Beth's and rolled me
over face down with a quick tug at the hogtie rope between my wrists and ankles.

'On your tummy, sweetheart, and get your fucking head down,' he snapped as he
shoved my head down on the flooring. A moment later I heard Beth being dealt
with in the same manner. She sobbed bitterly as her face was ground into the
dirt on the rugged flooring of the van..

'What's the fucking problem,' I heard Red ask.

'Nothing,' Slim muttered, 'just getting these two bitches back on their bellies.
Beth and her mom were lying back to back holding hands. Sweetest fucking thing
you ever saw,' he sneered.

'Let it go, Slim,' Red growled, 'if they wanna hold hands that's fucking OK with
me. Ease up on 'em.'

'What the fuck, Red, you feeling sorry for 'em all of a sudden?'

'Yeah maybe, shit I dunno. Maybe it's the mother and daughter thing. I wouldn't
give a rat's ass about wasting the bitch otherwise.'

'You're fucking making me cry, Red. You know what? You need a holiday. Fucking
job's getting to you. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.'

'Fine with me,' Red muttered.

I glanced up over my shoulder and saw more rope being readied. As I froze in
terror the cords were swiftly fashioned into what looked like three hangman's
nooses. Beth and Belinda wept brokenly as their slender necks were secured in
the sinister looking nooses and bound to metal fastenings in the floor of the
van. The third noose was reserved for me. I cringed and wept as Slim slipped it
over my head. For a brief moment I wondered fearfully if I was to be strangled
to death instead of shot.

'Just a little precaution, sweetheart,' Slim muttered as he tugged the noose
tight around my neck, 'don't want you getting back to back with your mom all
over again and trying to get loose while me and Red are up in front.' The slaver
played out the rope and fastened the free end to the base of one of the back
seats with a quick hard tug. 'Better make sure you don't jerk around too much or
that choke cord'll tighten up on you,' he told me as he quickly checked my gag
and my wrist and ankle bonds, clucked approvingly and straightened up.

'They're all prepped and ready to go,' he grunted. He pulled off his ski mask.
Red followed suit. I raised my head gingerly against the pressure of the choke
cord and gazed up at the faces of my captors for the very first time. The one
called Red must have been in his late thirties, early forties. A round and ruddy
face, thick sensual lips, sparse reddish hair streaked with white around the
temples. Dark black eyes. The other man seemed to be in his early thirties, the
face lined and hard with cold blue eyes and thin lips framing a predatory nose.
Both of them looked at me impassively. I could see my death sentence written on
their faces. I suddenly felt humiliatingly thankful that I was gagged, denied
the freedom to beg and plead for mercy. It wouldn't have done any good. These
men had their mind made up. If it hadn't been for the cloths that bound my mouth
I would have groveled and pleaded, begged them pointlessly to spare my life. I
couldn't stop my tears but the stern gagging kept me silenced, helped me go to
my death with some last shreds of dignity.

Red grunted. He ran a humiliating finger over my exposed labia and patted my
taped panties then moved to the front of the van. Slim got into the driver's
seat and the kidnap van started up. Slim nosed it into the street and it sped
away into the gathering twilight with its cargo of captive female flesh. Through
the corner of my eye I could see the dimly lit outlines of trees flashing past
the windows. Outside the van, people were going about their daily rounds,
shopping, laughing, enjoying their lives. Inside the van lay a wrapped corpse
and three gagged, hogtied and freshly raped women stripped to their underwear
with their necks bound in choke cords, two of them tagged for enslavement, the
third earmarked for execution. I lay helpless, unable even to struggle against
my bonds for fear of the choke cord, praying fervently that my death would be
swift and painless.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 8

by Andromeda


The three of us lay painfully confined in our bindings and gags during the
transport. None of us even attempted to struggle. All too aware of the
intimidating choke cords bound around our necks, we lay submissively still for
the duration of the trip, our semen-damp lingerie clinging uncomfortably to our
buttocks and our tightly knotted ropes cutting painfully into our flesh. My
hands and feet were numb. The two slavers in the front were silent. Not a single
word was exchanged for what seemed like the better part of an hour, the
oppressive silence inside the van punctuated only by the muffled sounds of our
sobbing as one of us or sometimes two or three simultaneously would break into
tears and sob for a few minutes then subside. At length the bleak silence was
broken..

'I love that smell of freshly fucked cunt meat in the back,' Red remarked. He
turned and gazed at us, grinning widely. 'You ladies doing OK?' he sneered,
'enjoying the ride?'

Enjoying the ride. I was being hauled to my death, Belinda and my daughter to
slavery. The three of us lay on our bellies, freshly raped and brutally hogtied,
our wrists and ankles roped tightly and painfully behind our backs, our mouths
bound in gags and our necks confined in choke cords to prevent us from
struggling. A sudden burst of helpless anger and frustration welled up inside me
that they had done this to us. Who gave these men the authority to invade my
home, bind us and place us in gags? What right did they have to rape us, rip our
lives apart and take us away to be killed or sold as slaves? It was so arbitrary
and brutal, so harsh and unfair.

Red turned back to Slim. 'I forgot to tell you. I called Jim over at the Farm
while you were loading the cunts,' he said.

'Oh yeah?'

'You know the guy, you talked to him before, right?'

'Sure. Last time was when we wasted those two bitches from the bridge party.'

'Oh yeah, right. Anyway I told him about Jerry. And about Beth and her mom and
the other cunt we bagged, the bondage slut. He said wasting the mother was the
right move, that the hole oughta be ready by the time we get there. That's
what's great about being part of a big syndicate. You get teamwork and backup
when you need it.'

'How about the big guy, Mr. X, is he there now?'

'Yeah, he's there all right. Funny thing is Jim called me back and said to hold
off on capping the bitch till we get to the Farm. He said Mr. X wants to send
somebody over to, what the fuck did he call it, 'witness the execution'. Or
maybe he might wanna see it himself. It don't figure. Why the fuck would
somebody like Mr. X care about seeing some two bit cunt get capped?'

'Could be he gets it off watching cunts get wasted. Ever think about that?'

'You know what? I'm gonna forget you said that. Keep talking like that and
you're gonna end up six feet under. You got any idea how fucking powerful this
guy is?'

'OK, OK, relax. It was just a fucking joke. You ever meet the guy?'

'Yeah once, a couple months ago. I got invited to a franchisers' party. They
have 'em about once every two months or so at the Farm. Forty or fifty guys at a
time from all over the country. I got introduced.'

'What's he like?'

'Like I said. Powerful. Fucking impressive. He's got maybe a thousand
franchisers generating cash for the syndicate. You wouldn't believe the contacts
this guy's got. He's got police departments all over the country on his fucking
payroll, even some guys in the FBI from what I hear. Travels around half the
time drumming up business all around the world, places like the Middle East
where there's a big demand for what the syndicate's got to offer and a helluva
lot of money to pay for it. The guy's definitely hooked up.'

'Yeah, and I bet he's got plenty of slave girls working for him too.'

'Are you kidding? He's got over a hundred of 'em on the Farm. Terrific looking
chicks, every single fucking one of 'em. He had a whole bunch of 'em waiting on
us at the party serving us drinks and stuff, dressed up nice and cute in spike
heeled boots and short black minis, so fucking short you could see their
panties. They were all wearing this expensive designer lingerie, Victoria's
Secret kinda shit. They tell me this guy spends more on his slave girls' fucking
underwear every day of the week than me and you spend on our mortgages in a
year. When I got introduced to him I asked him about it. He told me he wants all
his slave girls ready for fucking any time of the day or night so he makes 'em
wear that sexy lingerie whatever the fuck they happen to be doing. And they
gotta make sure their panties are showing under their fucking uniforms so this
guy can be sure they're wearing his stuff like they're supposed to. Can you
believe that shit?'

'You're fucking with me. You mean he's got 'em in designer panties even when
they're busy cleaning toilets? That's pretty fucking kinky.'

'Yeah,' Red chuckled, 'you can fucking say that again. But hey, whatever the
fuck they're wearing, those slave girls can get pretty fucking tough. And
especially when they're handling freshly captured slave meat. Like just before
midnight at that party, three or four 'em came in herding a whole bunch of butt
naked chicks, about a dozen of 'em lined up with their hands tied behind their
backs and their necks hooked up to this long rope running between 'em. Like a
fucking slave coffle if you know what I mean. Gagged too and I'm talking heavy
gagging like on that redhead you were telling me about, the one who peed
herself. All of 'em had duct tape pulled tight across their mouths and wrapped
around the back of their necks with some pretty heavy packing underneath. You
could tell from how their fucking cheeks were bulging out like crazy. Somebody
even told me they had their panties stuffed inside their mouths but how the fuck
he knew that is anybody's guess.'

'No shit?' said Slim, 'a dozen tied up cunts. Wish I could've seen it.'

'I shit you not. Anyhow, Mr. X gets up and tells everybody that all of the
chicks are freshly captured, that they'd all been collected that same fucking
day from places all over the country and they were still in their capture ropes
or so he said. Man, you wouldn't believe how scared those cunts looked! Their
eyes were popping outta their fucking heads when they saw all the guys in the
room catcalling and whistling and they knew they'd all been brought in to get
fucked. Some of 'em started struggling and trying to pull away from the coffle
but the slave girls kept whipping 'em back in line with these thin leather whips
and riding crops they were carrying. It was fucking brutal. A lot of those cunts
had welts and black and blue marks on their legs and tits where they'd been
hit.'

'So what happened? They all got fucked?'

'Whaddya think,' Red snorted, 'you think they got invited in for coffee and
cakes? There were about half a dozen tables lined up by the wall and the slave
girls herded 'em over and shoved 'em face down so the chicks were standing bent
over with their heads down on the table. You should've seen  'em, a dozen
beautiful pieces of fuck meat lined up in a nice neat row with their legs
spread, their hands tied behind their backs and their asses and cunts pushed out
ready for fucking. They looked terrific. The slave girls lubed 'em up for us
while we lined up, a whole bunch of guys behind each chick, waiting to fuck the
living daylights out of 'em.'

'Kinda like at McDonald's, huh?' Slim guffawed.

'Yeah,' Red chuckled, 'come to think of it. Anyway every single one of those
chicks took a good hard boning through the ass and cunt from at least a half a
dozen guys with a lot of us coming back for seconds and thirds. It went on all
night. Even Mr. X joined in the fun. Not much fun for the chicks though. Talk
about crying, you wouldn't believe the sobbing and screaming they put out while
they were getting it. Even with the heavy duty gagging, you could hardly hear
yourself cum on account of the racket. I hate to think what it would've been
like if the bitches hadn't been gagged.'

'Yeah,' Slim chuckled, 'hats off to gags. I dunno how the fuck we could run this
business without 'em.'

'You can say that again. You should've seen those chicks by the time we got
through with 'em. They had to be hosed down before the slave girls could move
'em down to the lockups on account of all the cum oozing outta their asses and
fuckholes down their legs. And a few of 'em were bleeding from their assholes.
They'd all been fucked and checked out when they were grabbed naturally or at
least they'd had their T&L's done but I guess some of 'em just didn't have the
stretch to take the massive pounding they got there.'

'Fuck. You know what? You're a lucky guy, Red. Shit, I wish I'd been there. So
those slave girls can get pretty rough, huh?'

'You better believe it. And not just with fresh captures. Practically every
slave girl's got a troop of other girls working under her and she's trained,
knows just how to handle 'em. Mr. X runs a school right there on the Farm. I
trained there myself. They've got one stream for franchisers, another one for
slave girls and they teach you everything you need to know. Handguns, rifles,
knives, ropes and handcuffs, gagging techniques, blindfolds, how and when to
punish your capture, whipping and caning styles, you name it, they teach it.
Fact is you're gonna have to train there yourself if you wanna start your own
franchise. Anyway about the slave girls, he's got 'em organized like a fucking
army, almost like his own private police corps. Every single one of 'em knows
her job and does it good. Because if she fucks up she knows what she's gonna
get.

'Oh yeah? What's that?'

'I'll tell you. Somebody at the party gave me the lowdown on this. First, she
gets tied up and stripped. By one of the girls in her group to make sure she
gets nicely humiliated from the get go. Then five guys off the Farm come in and
fuck her up the ass right in front of the whole group. That's just for openers.
After that she gets a public whipping, fifty lashes across the back and the
thighs, front and back. And when I say public I mean public. Everybody, every
fucking person on the Farm turns up to see her get whipped. And then they make
her go around in panties for about a week so people can keep seeing her markings
while they're still fresh. They don't fuck around the way I do with spankings
and shit like that. That's for a first offense. For a second offense it gets a
helluva lot worse, she gets a hundred and fifty lashes after her assfuck and
she's put in panties for a whole fucking month. Ever see a girl's back after
it's taken a hundred and fifty lashes? Those chicks make damn sure they don't
fuck up twice, trust me on that.'

'Fuck,' Slim muttered.

'And it works, believe you me. Shit, like I said, the guy's got more than a
hundred slave girls on the Farm and there's been like maybe a dozen whippings
for first offenses in the last year or so and not one fucking punishment for
second offenses. The last one was like two or three years ago. That tells you
something. We're nearly there. Just another couple of miles. It'll be the next
road on the right.'

A stab of terror lanced through my heart. I began trembling. We were almost
there. Very soon now I would be shot. A bullet would be fired into the back of
my head. I wondered desperately how it would feel. Would I feel the pain before
I died or would I die instantly, mercifully spared having to feel the searing
agony of a bullet tearing its way through the tissues of my brain? I tried
desperately to compose myself. I had stopped crying as I listened intently to
the dreadful exchange between the two kidnappers. It had been grimly
fascinating, a glimpse into a horrible underworld I had never imagined existed.
A sinister and powerful syndicate that dealt in human flesh, an army of slave
girls trained in the brutal techniques of bondage and enslavement, obscene
parties where innocent girls, ruthlessly snatched that very same day from their
families and humiliatingly stripped and roped together like cattle, were herded
in and gang raped for the depraved pleasure of a pack of degenerates. It was a
horrifying tableau. I thought of poor Beth being trapped in that nightmare of
bondage, rape and perversion and shuddered. For a brief moment I even wondered
if it wasn't better to be dead than to have to go through something like that.

The van stopped in front of a high wire fence with a locked gate. An armed guard
was posted at the entrance. I heard Red say a few words and display his ID. Then
the van started up again and we were driven for a few hundred yards more until
it stopped. The two men got out. I tensed fearfully as the back door was rolled
open. The dreaded moment had come.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 9

by Andromeda



I felt rough hands at my ankle bonds, the cold touch of a knife blade being
slipped under the ropes. I raised my head as much as the choke cord allowed and
looked over my shoulder. It was Slim. He glanced at me and grinned when he saw
the fear in my eyes.

'Time to go, sweetheart,' he grunted, 'I'm getting you outta that hogtie and
putting you in some hobbles. You're gonna have to walk a little ways. Lie still
while I get you fixed up.'

I lay still on my tummy as the slaver severed the hogtie restraint and sawed my
ankle ropes until they parted. A quick cut through the choke cord released my
neck. Freed from the cramped position into which they had been forced my legs
flopped backward on the flooring. They ached and throbbed. Even though they'd
been freed I could hardly move them. A fresh length of rope was fastened between
my ankles to hobble me and only then was I pulled up, still bound at wrists and
mouth, and curtly told to get out of the van. I broke into tears and shook my
head desperately, terrified by what lay ahead.

'I said get the fuck outta the van,' the slaver snarled.

I could see Beth squirming helplessly on her belly, grunting at me from under
her gag strap. Her blindfold was soaked with tears. I sobbed and screamed into
my gag as Slim manhandled my flailing legs out of the van and spun me around.
The slaver's face was suffused with rage. I flinched as he raised his hand and
dealt me a swift sharp slap across my gagged mouth that snapped my head
backward. My legs suddenly gave way and I fell to my knees. Red bent down and
helped me up, gripping me tightly by my elbow. I stood trembling in my bonds,
gazing helplessly at my executioners.

'Take it easy, Slim,' Red grunted, 'she's scared shitless.'

'Oh yeah?' Slim growled, 'fucking bitch had it coming to her.'

Sobbing bitterly and thoroughly subdued by the swift brutal slap I offered no
further resistance. I stood waiting tearfully as Slim pulled Jerry's
plastic-wrapped body out of the van and slung it over his shoulder. It felt odd
to be on my feet after hours of lying bound on my belly. I looked at my
surroundings. The van was parked on a dimly lit side road lined with trees on
both sides. A narrow path was marked between the trees and my captors shoved me
toward it. Wearing nothing but my gossamer thin panties and my sodden and
tightly knotted gag I stumbled forward, my hands bound behind my back in the
time honored method of restraint prescribed for prisoners being led to
execution. My captors' hands were tight at my elbows to stop me from trying to
break away and run. The last mile. I felt numb. Time seemed to stand still. Red
was talking on his cell phone.

'Jim? We're here,' I heard him say, 'how long do we gotta wait? I wanna get this
over with... Less than five minutes? You got it.'

We came to a clearing between the trees and there in front of me was the grave,
grimly flanked on three sides by mounds of freshly dug earth. I took deep
breaths of air into my lungs. I was surprised at how calm I suddenly felt. It
was as if, strangely, these last few moments of my life would last for eternity.
I felt oddly disconnected from my body. Even the ropes and the gag felt like
they weren't mine, like they'd been placed on someone else. I reached the edge
of the grave and stood facing it. The two men released my elbows and Slim
carelessly heaved Jerry's body into the grave. It landed with a dull thud.

'Down on your knees,' he snapped. I fell to my knees in front of my executioners
and looked down into the grave. Jerry's wrapped corpse lay at the bottom. Soon I
too would be lying there, sprawled lifeless on the ground next to the body of
the thug who had tied me up and gagged me hours ago. It felt like years. Mounds
of earth would be thrown on my stripped and naked body, worms would consume my
flesh but my bones would remain confined forever in the loathsome ropes and
gagging cloths the dead slaver had used to bind me. I shuddered at the horror of
it. A sudden stab of terror lanced through my heart. I twisted around and looked
up tearfully at my executioners. Slim stood directly behind me, gun in hand, his
face grim and determined. Red stood by his side, looking at his watch.

'Where the fuck are they,' he growled, 'it's been fifteen fucking minutes
already. I can't take much more of this. Fuck 'em. Go ahead and cap her, Slim.'
Slim raised his weapon.

'Eyes front, sweetheart,' he ordered. I bowed my head and looked back down into
the grave, waiting hopelessly for the shot that would end my life. I flinched
when I heard it. Oddly enough I felt nothing. I wondered dimly if I was already
dead. But I heard a gasp and then a thud as the slaver fell to the ground behind
me. Another shot rang out. I looked unbelievingly over my shoulder and saw that
Red had been shot too. He was falling backward, his hand clutching at his chest,
his face distorted in a fierce mask of pain laced with astonishment and
incredulity. I panicked, twisted around on my knees and threw myself forward on
my face along the edge of the grave. I lay quivering on the ground terrified
that the next shot would be aimed at me. But there were no more shots. I raised
my head and saw the bodies of the two slavers convulse briefly then lie still on
the ground. There were large jagged red holes in their chests and blood was
flowing freely from the open wounds. I started trembling violently. I think I
must have gone into shock.

As I lay bound and trembling on my belly at the edge of the grave, two young
women dressed in very short black miniskirts and high heeled boots emerged from
behind the trees and walked into the clearing, sniper rifles held at the ready.
I stared at them, startled. From what I'd overheard in the van and from what I
had just seen these young women do, even from the way they were dressed, I knew
at once that that they had to be two of the redoubtable Mr. X's well trained and
ruthlessly efficient slave girls.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 10

by Andromeda



One of the slave girls, a tall striking blonde, issued a curt order to the
other:

'Check the marks, Rhonda,' she snapped, ''make sure they're dead. I'll deal with
Mother Goose over here.'

'Yes, ma'am,' replied her companion, a slight black-haired girl with thin legs
and diminutive breasts. She hurried over to where Red and Slim lay lifeless and
bleeding several feet away, bent down and touched their throats. As she did, her
short black pleated miniskirt rode up over her buttocks to reveal a shamelessly
generous expanse of white silk lingerie. I remembered what Red had told Slim
about the grotesque manner in which Mr. X's slave girls were made to dress. It
looked lewd and obscene. The blonde shouldered her rifle and stood over me
looking down at me, her hands on her hips. I wiggled my bound hands at her
behind my back and grunted insistently through my gag to let her know I was
waiting to be released. She shook her head absently.

'Don't move,' she murmured, 'stay just as you are.'  

I gazed up at the slave girl, wondering why she was keeping me in bonds. She was
roughly Beth's age, twenty-two or twenty-three, strikingly pretty with long
shapely legs. She too was dressed in a black miniskirted uniform that revealed
her underwear. Her panties were lavishly designed, rich red silk exquisitely
trimmed with white lace and cut provocatively loose and high on the thigh like a
very brief pair of shorts, obviously expensive. She raised her foot and ground
the stiletto heel of her boot painfully into the back of my neck to shove my
face down in the dirt.

'Head down, Mother Goose,' she snapped, 'you can stop staring at my underwear.
What about the marks, Rhonda?'

'They're dead, ma'am,' the black-haired girl averred as she straightened up. She
too seemed to be in her early twenties.

'Good,' the blonde said as she stepped behind me and straddled my legs, 'now go
check the van for the daughter and her friend. They're fresh captures so they're
probably hogtied and in panties. Strip them down and stuff their panties in
their mouths on top of whatever else they've been chewing on. Coffle them
together and bring them here. And fix up an ID tag for Mother Goose over here.
Those cowboys usually have some flex cuffs lying around their vans and you can
get the last name from the daughter's tag, first name's Beth. The mother's first
name is Holly.'

'Yes, ma'am,' the other girl replied obediently. She ran off toward the van, her
thin legs scissoring, her panties flashing under her brief skirt as she ran.

I lay in my bonds shuddering at the thought that my daughter was about to have
her semen-soiled panties stuffed in her mouth and wondering if I too was about
to be regagged in the same horrible fashion. I was obviously not about to be
freed. My wrists and arms ached terribly from their imprisonment behind my back
and my hands had gone numb hours ago. I slumped back into despair as the
prospect of being released from bondage receded dismally. I was still a captive,
tied, gagged and helpless. Why, I wondered bitterly.

The tall blonde pulled out a cell phone. 'Master Jim? It's Slave Shannon, sir.
We took care of the marks as you ordered, sir. And I have one of the captures
here, the mother. Slave Rhonda's gone to fetch the other two.' She listened for
a moment. 'I'll do that, sir,' she said as she hung up. At least one thing was
clear. The two slavers had obviously been betrayed and set up for the killing by
their contact here at the Farm, the man called Jim. I wondered briefly why
they'd been shot. Not that I cared. I was frankly delighted that they were dead.
Perhaps they'd failed to pay money that they owed. I'd seen enough mob movies to
know how these matters were settled among thugs. But why had I been spared? And
why was I still being held along with Beth and Belinda? The slave girl whose
name appeared to be Shannon sat down heavily on my legs, pinning me to the
ground. I felt her hands at my wrists.

'Good ropework,' she commented, 'nice and tight. It must have hurt before your
hands went numb. Those franchise cowboys knew how to use ropes. I'm afraid
you're going to have to have them on for a while longer. I'm so sorry.' Her
hands went to my panties. 'Now that you've seen my underwear, Mother Goose, do
you mind if I have a look at yours? I assume I have your permission.' I reddened
with embarrassment as I felt her fingers slip under the hem of my panties at my
crotch.

'Neatly pulled back and taped down to showcase your holes,' the slave girl
remarked. She tore the tape from my asscheek with a quick painful tug. 'For the
ass and cunt shots, no doubt. They teach them to do that at the school. They say
it helps sell the merchandise. I think they do it just to humiliate the capture.
The guys who grabbed me did it to me too before they raped me. I hated it. I
need you to lie still while I remove your panties. They'll be more useful behind
your teeth than where they are now.'

It was horribly true. I was to be regagged with my filthy panties stuffed inside
my mouth. I shuddered in disgust. I couldn't bear the thought of it. I reared up
and shook my head vigorously, grunting at her in protest through my gag packing.
Without uttering a word the slave girl pushed my head back down and dealt me a
quick hard blow to my lower back with her fist. It knocked the wind out of me. I
gasped with pain.

'That's just a warning,' she told me evenly, 'I told you to keep your head down.
Next time I have to punish you it'll hurt a lot more. Shut the fuck up and lie
perfectly still with your face in the dirt. Don't struggle, don't try to resist.
Do you understand? Nod your head if you do.'

I nodded miserably. Tears formed in my eyes. I had been miraculously spared only
to fall into the hands of this ruthless young slave girl. I remembered what the
dead slaver had said about how well these girls had been trained in the brutal
art of handling captives. I felt the touch of cold steel at my buttocks and a
tugging of lingerie at my crotch as a knife was slipped under the hem of my
panties. A quick cut through the thin sheer fabric at my hip and another taken
between my legs freed the skimpy item of lingerie from my buttocks. It was
swiftly whipped away leaving me stark naked, stripped by a girl half my age. My
face was crimson with humiliation.

'Not too clean are they?' Shannon remarked as she gingerly placed my panties on
the ground by my face, 'they're still soaked with cum and they stink of shit.
You've been well fucked. The good news is that it gets easier once you learn to
like it. You'll see.' The pungent smell of spent semen laced with excrement
wafted up from the crumpled panties and assailed my nostrils. I turned my face
the other way, sickened by the knowledge that this disgustingly soiled
undergarment was about to be stuffed inside my mouth. I felt like throwing up. I
sobbed brokenly as I felt the slave girl's fingers on my gag strap at the back
of my neck, untying the knot. She whipped it away, threw it on the ground and
jammed one hand into my mouth to keep the sodden packing wedged in firmly while
she wadded up my soiled underwear with the other. A quick thrust jammed the
wadded panties into my mouth on top of the packing already inside. The slave
girl prodded and pushed at them to force them to fit between my aching jaws. I
started retching almost at once.

'I've found there's always room in a capture's mouth for more packing,' the
slave girl remarked conversationally as she worked the foul-tasting undergarment
firmly into place behind my teeth and under the roof of my mouth. I retched and
gagged dreadfully as I battled to accept it.

'Just breathe through your nose,' she told me evenly, 'you'll get used to the
heavy duty packing soon enough. I need you to bite down hard so I can seal in
the goodness.'

As I lay on my belly gagging and retching I heard the awful ripping sound of
duct tape. My hair was gathered and raised aloft to bare my neck for the
adhesive as the slave girl applied the tape firmly to my lips then strapped it
over and over again around the back of my neck to seal my soiled panties tightly
and inescapably inside my mouth. It felt horrible, much much worse than the gag
I'd been made to wear before. I suddenly remembered Slim's breathless
description of the ghastly "killer gag" he had bound on that poor redheaded girl
he had snatched, the one who had peed herself. I had now been muzzled in the
same dreadful fashion. Tears came to my eyes. I started crying.

'There, have a good cry about it,' the slave girl murmured, 'it'll make you feel
better.' She tore the end of the tape from the roll and pressed it down hard on
my cheek with the heel of her hand. 'I'm going to have to run a titty test on
your nice new gag,' she warbled as she reached under my bare breasts, 'let me
show you what I mean.' She seized my breasts and dug her fingernails into my
nipples viciously hard, lacerating the tender flesh for well over a minute as I
screamed out my agony into my wadded panties. The slave girl listened
attentively to my gag muffled screaming then released my nipples, clucking with
satisfaction.

'It works beautifully,' she gushed as she patted my cheeks, 'and it really does
suit you. Tape gags are so much more becoming I find. It's bound to be a bit
less comfortable than what you had on before but my goodness, the soundproofing
is so much better, don't you agree?' My nipples were in agony. My revoltingly
soiled panties tasted foul and bitter in my mouth, the tight tape strapping felt
like a vise clamped around my head and my aching jaws were stretched almost to
the breaking point in a ghastly combination of humiliation, pain and discomfort.
I wept brokenly.

'Just lie still and get used to it,' the slave girl trilled, 'all three of you
lucky ladies have been invited to a fun party this evening along with a few
other ladies from all over the country. Heavy duty gags are obligatory, de
rigueur you might say. You'll all be gagged in the same way so you won't feel
left out.'

Invited to a party. My mind went to that obscene party the dead slaver had
described in such grisly detail on the way here, to those freshly captured young
women who had been brought in stripped and gagged with their hands tied behind
them and their necks roped together like captured slaves to be gang raped by Mr.
X's so-called franchisers. The slaver had said he'd heard that the victims had
been gagged with their underwear. And the awful parties were held once every two
months. Red had attended the last one just two months ago. It meant that another
one of the hideous events had been planned and was due to be held at any moment.

The sickening realization dawned on me and I suddenly understood why my life had
been spared. I'd been allowed to live so that I could be taken and used as rape
meat for this evening's "party". I was to be herded in together with Beth and
Belinda, stripped naked and roped by the neck to a coffle of other stripped,
freshly raped and kidnapped women with my hands tied and my panties packed in my
mouth. Once inside I would be bent over a row of tables, humiliatingly
masturbated and lubricated by one of Mr. X's slave girls then savagely gang
raped by a roomful of degenerate slavers. I suddenly began shaking like a leaf.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 11

by Andromeda


The blonde-haired slave girl checked her wrist watch.

'Time to get moving, Mother Goose,' she said briskly, 'up on your feet, make it
snappy. Rhonda should be back any minute now with the other two.' She produced a
knife and quickly severed the hobble rope between my ankles. I flapped around
awkwardly as I tried to get up. I'd been lying face down on the ground. Getting
up from a prone position with my hands tied as they were was hardly easy. The
slave girl smiled as she watched me thrash around.

'Having trouble getting up?' she asked innocently. I nodded miserably. A moment
later she bent down and pulled me to my feet. I looked around. At the edge of
the clearing I saw the dark-haired slave girl, Rhonda, walking toward us. Behind
her stumbled Beth and Belinda. From the instructions I'd heard the blonde give
her companion I knew what to expect but seeing it was still a shock. Like me,
the two women had been stripped of their panties, their lips brutally duct taped
to seal the loathsomely soiled lingerie inside their mouths, their hands kept
securely fastened behind their backs. But even more hideous was the manner in
which the dark-haired girl had roped them together by their necks, coffled them
like slaves being led to a slave auction. I was appalled. The brutal bondage
reminded me of some shocking drawings I'd seen a few years earlier in a museum
exhibit depicting the harsh treatment of African slaves a few centuries ago. I
remembered how I'd cringed at the sight of the awful black and white drawings of
long columns of hapless men, women and children being led into captivity,
humiliatingly coffled by their necks with their hands helplessly roped behind
their backs. The intimidating images had haunted me for months. To see the
dreadful tableau so hideously reenacted in the way Beth and Belinda had been
leashed together was frightful and terrifying. The dark-haired slave girl shoved
her helpless captives over to where I stood gagged and hand-bound at the edge of
the grave. As they approached me I could see that the two women had been crying
heavily. Their eyes were red and their faces streaked with tears. Shocked at
finding me still alive, they stared at me wide eyed as they shuffled forward in
their brutal neck restraints. Beth started struggling against her bonds, her
jaws working futilely under the gag strapping. I grunted wretchedly at her
through my gag and tried to move toward her but was stopped by Shannon's
restraining hand at my elbow. 

'I need you to keep still while I get you fixed up,' she informed me coldly as
she extracted a long length of white cotton rope from a black leather pouch at
her waist. I gazed fearfully at the rope, aware of its purpose. My shoulders
sagged as I thought of having it fastened around my neck to leash me to my
daughter and her friend, of being led into slavery cruelly and degradingly
stripped, gagged and coffled with my hands bound behind me. Shannon looked bored
as she doubled the rope and flipped it around my neck. The ends hung limply over
my bare breasts.

'I normally use a choke rope with a slip knot,' she informed me as she deftly
fashioned the rope into a slave collar and secured it with a overhand knot under
my chin, 'especially on captures that look like they might get a bit
rambunctious. But you seem tame enough so I'm letting you off with a simple
overhand. I hope you're properly appreciative.' She tugged briefly at my collar
to test it. It chafed horribly. Satisfied, she grasped one of the ropes that
hung over my breasts and knotted it off at Belinda's neck collar. The other end
was left dangling from my neck to be used, I supposed, as a lead leash. I could
see my daughter staring at me as I stood naked and coffled in front of her. I
turned my face away, ashamed that she'd had to witness her mother's degrading
and humiliating enslavement.

'The slave tag, Rhonda. Give it to me,' Shannon snapped.

'Yes ma'am,' Rhonda replied, 'I have it ready.' She handed Shannon a white
plastic flex cuff with a strip of grey cardboard stapled to it. On it I could
see my name marked in big block letters. The words "estimated age 40" had been
added on. Shannon pulled out a pen and scribbled something on the tag then
looked at me.

'Turn around. Give me your hands,' she told me curtly.

The collar chafed at my neck as I turned. I felt the slave girl's hands at my
bound wrists and winced as the tag was cuffed firmly in place with a quick tug
at the strap. At least, I thought bitterly, the fact that I was being slave
tagged meant that I no longer marked for execution. I remembered how I had gazed
with envy at Belinda's tag while I'd lain hogtied in the kidnap van. Had it not
been for the grim ordeal that I knew lay directly ahead I would probably have
been humiliatingly glad, proud almost to have been tagged. The dark haired girl
circled behind me and examined my wrists.

"Extra heavy lube," she read out. I reddened with embarrassment. 'Why, ma'am?'
she asked.

'Don't be dense, Rhonda,' Shannon muttered, 'she's a defective. Why do you
suppose she was being terminated?'

'Oh,' Rhonda exclaimed, 'well then I suppose she's lucky they needed another
piece of fuckmeat for the party. She'd be dead by now if it wasn't for that.'

'She's not out of the woods yet,' Shannon remarked, 'she's on probation. Master
Jim said he's going to be keeping on eye on her at the party to see if she pans
out. If she does then she'll probably be kept for slave training. If not, well
they always have the option of terminating her at some stage, maybe even in the
next couple of days. But I know Master Jim wants to keep her. He's been looking
for a mother and daughter pair for some time now.'

'So that's why he made you tag her for heavy duty greasing?' Rhonda asked.

'How perceptive of you, Rhonda,' Shannon said dryly, 'yes, he's trying to cut
her some slack. I suppose that if she creams her cunt properly and manages to
keep her lubricated ass open for fucking she'll probably scrape through. And
even if her ass closes up they'll probably put a plug in it to stretch it.
Master Jim wants to see her receive a good hard fucking, ass and cunt, to get
her started on her training. Anyway we're wasting time. Let's get these lovely
ladies over to where they're supposed to be. Karen and her crew are waiting for
them.'

She seized the end of the rope that dangled from my collar and yanked it
sharply. It tugged painfully at my neck and I stumbled after her, pulling
Belinda and Beth in tow behind me. Our two captors strode in front, their
designer panties winking lewdly at us from under their brief black miniskirts as
they walked. Stripped naked and panty-gagged with our wrists bound behind us and
our necks hideously festooned with rope, we were led away to be gang raped. I
wondered if Beth and Belinda knew what was in store for us. I was sure they knew
that we were about to raped for the second time that evening but did they have
any idea of how terrible this massive assault on our naked and defenseless
bodies was to be? I was sure they'd overheard the conversation in the kidnap van
but had they made the connection between that and what was happening to us? I
turned and looked back at them, my rope collar chafing painfully against my skin
as the slave rope dragged me forward. No longer crying, Belinda shuffled along
behind me, stumbling from time to time as her neck binding pulled her in tow,
her eyes blank and expressionless above her bulging cheeks. Beth was still
sobbing. She looked dreadful with her slender neck collared in rope, her hands
confined behind her back, her face hideously deformed by the heavily layered
strips of duct tape strapped tautly across her lips, her body humiliatingly
stripped naked to ready her for the raping extravaganza about to take place. She
shuffled listlessly behind Belinda, lurching forward from time to time as the
cruel coffle rope tugged at her neck and bit into her skin.

Rhonda trotted past us in her obscene miniskirt and panties and caught up with
Shannon. 

'So what else did Master Jim tell you, ma'am?' I heard her ask.

'Nothing much,' Shannon replied, 'just that he was pleased with our work. We
really ought to be getting a merit badge for taking care of those cowboys.
Master Jim told me they've owed the Syndicate a shitload of cash for months now
and they weren't paying a cent. They'd had lots of warnings too.'

'A merit badge would be cool,' Rhonda mused.

'Don't hold your breath,' Shannon snorted, 'how's the old bag doing back there?'
Rhonda turned and glanced at me.

'She's doing fine ma'am, just looking a little scared. I suppose one has to
expect that.'

"Scared" was hardly the word for how I felt. I was terrified. The slave girl had
said that I was still "on probation", that I could face almost certain execution
if I failed to please at this evenings's festival of bondage and rape. And that
I might have to endure having my butthole plugged to stretch it open for easier
impalement on a slaver's shaft. I sobbed briefly as I tried to imagine what it
would feel like having my ass humiliatingly plugged and stretched. For the
umpteenth time I pulled futilely at my wrist ropes behind my back, cursing the
dead slaver who had bound me so expertly and securely. No matter how I felt
about it I knew I had to satisfy. Soon I would find myself bent over a raping
table with my privates exposed and presented for impalement to a roomful of
slavers. If I wanted to live I would need to show them a fully lubricated vagina
and a pliantly stretched and opened butthole. I had no choice.

We trudged on for another fifteen minutes or so through the wooded grounds of
what seemed to be an enormous estate. It reeked of wealth and opulence. We
finally came to a large house guarded by four stern faced men armed with what
looked like submachine guns. From one of the brightly-lit windows came the sound
of laughter and animated conversation mingled with the raucous strains of
country music. Shannon stopped and said something to one of the guards and he
waved us on. We were led around the house to the back and to what seemed to be a
service entrance, also guarded by men with submachine guns, only two of them
this time.

'These captures are for the party,' Shannon told them, 'We've been ordered to
deliver them to the service room by the reception area.'

The guards glanced briefly at Beth, Belinda and me, running their eyes hungrily
up and down our bound and naked bodies, then nodded. 'Fresh fuckmeat, huh?' one
of them said, 'I like the sweet young thing in the back. Any chance I can get my
cock in her ass?'

'She's not for grunts like you,' Shannon laughed easily, 'but I'll be happy to
accommodate you myself once I'm off duty.'

'OK sweetheart,' the guard chuckled, 'I'll take you up on that.' He pinched her
ass. 'Cute panties, I love 'em,' he commented. Shannon wiggled her hips at him
as he waved us into the house. I had a brief fit of trembling as I thought of
what lay ahead. Very soon now the three of us would be standing bent over a row
of tables having our raised and exposed vaginas masturbated and our buttholes
lubricated by Mr. X's slave girls with a roomful of slavers staring hungrily at
our crotches as they queued up to rape us.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 12

by Andromeda

Stripped and roped together by the neck, mouths taped shut and hands bound as
always behind our backs, the three of us were hustled through a number of wide
and luxuriously decorated corridors to a small tiled room at the end of a
darkened hallway. It was a bathroom of sorts, equipped with hoses that were
connected to a high-pressure water outlet on one of the walls. At the base of
the wall was a wide gutter that emptied into a drainage canal. From Red's
account I guessed that this was where we would be taken after being raped to
have our semen-dripping vaginas and buttholes flushed with high-pressure jets of
water. I wondered bitterly how many other gang-raped women over the years had
been made to pass through here to be humiliatingly hosed down as though they
were farm animals. The slave girls opened a side door that led to another room,
also tiled and bare but much more spacious than the first. Along the side wall,
sitting side by side on a low bench with their knees drawn up and their heads
bowed, were the other victims who had been brought here tonight to be raped by
Mr. X's so-called franchisers. They had their hands behind their backs,
obviously bound either with rope or handcuffs, I couldn't tell which. Their
mouths were duct taped and all of them had been stripped naked. Like us they had
been roped together by their necks. From beyond a door at the far end of the
room came the animated sounds of the party that I'd heard outside.

I did a quick head count. There were nine captives. Including the three of us
made twelve, the same number the dead slaver had counted at the awful party he
had so gushingly described while I'd lain hogtied in the back of the kidnap van.
Several of the women were sobbing, their shoulders heaving uncontrollably, their
cheeks bulging out grotesquely from the combined pressure of the panties and
other silencing material that had been stuffed inside their mouths and the heavy
layers of duct tape wrapped around their heads to keep the gags strapped firmly
in place. They were guarded by four slave girls in boots and short pleated
miniskirt uniforms who paraded menacingly in front of them slapping what looked
like riding crops against the palms of their hands. I gazed fearfully at the
guards. Sets of shiny steel handcuffs and black leather floggers dangled
intimidatingly from utility belts at their waists, the grimly oppressive display
clashing incongruously with the white lace and silk lingerie that peeked out
lewdly from under their brief black miniskirts as they strode back and forth in
front of their captives.

As the three of us were led to the bench to be coffled to the other victims a
few women looked up at us, their tearful faces eyeing us curiously. One of them
even tried to say something to us but whatever it was it was mercilessly stifled
by her gag. We were ordered to sit and as I lowered myself awkwardly together
with Beth and Belinda, I looked across at the row of captive women sitting
beside me on the bench. It was a horrifyingly intimidating sight - the row of
bowed heads festooned in coffle cordage, the distorted faces strapped with
layers of duct tape, the procession of slender arms pulled sternly behind the
back and lashed at the wrists with tautly fastened coils of white cotton rope,
some tied as mine were with the wrists crossed, others bound even more
stringently with the palms pressed against each other below the bindings. It
took an effort on my part to realize that just a day earlier all of these women
who sat beside me bound, stripped and enslaved had been with their friends and
loved ones, enjoying their lives and going about their business totally and
blissfully unaware of the obscene calamity waiting to engulf them. 

Beth was placed at the end of the bench. I sat between Belinda and a short
black-haired girl who seemed to be in her late twenties. She'd been bawling
badly. Her eyes were red and she kept staring at me as the three of us were
hooked up to the coffle by a four-foot length of rope fastened between her neck
collar and mine. I was literally quivering with fear. I dreaded what lay ahead.
I knew my life depended on how my body would respond to the massive assault on
my womanhood that was being so meticulously prepared. I prayed silently for
deliverance from the threat of execution, knowing that for me deliverance meant
little more than a life of bitter enslavement, merciless bondage and brutal
rape.

'We're done here, Karen,' Shannon told one of the four slave girls in charge of
the captives, 'I need you to sign for them.' She produced a form. The girl in
charge, a shapely brunette whose name appeared to be Karen, signed it quickly.

'Oh and by the way,' Shannon added as she tucked the folded form into her pouch,
'the older one over there is a defective,' she pointed at me, 'she'll need extra
heavy lubrication to get her holes ready for use. I wrote it in on her tag.'

Karen glanced at me. 'I've got just the right girl for that,' she told Shannon.
'Brenda?' A tall redheaded girl looked at her.

'Ma'am?'

'One of the new slaves over on the bench,' Karen told her, 'third from the end,
she's a defective, needs special attention when she's being lubed up. See to it,
will you?'

'My pleasure, ma'am,' the redhead replied. She looked at me and smiled, her eyes
roaming speculatively over my bound and naked body. I wondered dimly if she
might be a lesbian. She was visibly older than the other three, in her late
thirties perhaps. She came over and stood in front of me.

'Hi there, honey,' she said cheerfully, 'don't worry, I'll get you ready. Trust
me. I'll leave your quim nice and wet and make sure your ass gets a good proper
stretching if it needs it. You're going to be OK.' She patted my head as though
I were her pet cat. I peered up and groaned wretchedly at her through my gag.
She turned and flounced away, pulling her skirt up briefly to flash her
underwear at me flirtatiously. Definitely a lesbian, I decided. The slave girl
in charge, Karen, looked at her watch.

'It's time,' she told the other three, 'get these slaves off their asses and
move them in. Use your crops on any one of them that strays out of line. I want
to see an orderly column.'

We were pulled to our feet by a few quick tugs on the coffle ropes and brutally
cropped into a column. I myself wasn't struck but I flinched as I saw the
captive in front of me, the black-haired girl who had stared at me as she and I
were roped together, take a viciously hard blow to her thighs to crop her into
line. She yelped in pain through her gagging cloths. Behind me Beth and Belinda
were also cropped. I heard them cry out through their gags as they were struck.
As the coffle of naked and terrified victims was marched toward the door to the
reception area, I suddenly became aware that I was peeing myself from fright. No
one took any notice. A few of the other girls had also urinated. Puddles of pee
lay on the tiled floor and I kept stepping in them. The door to the reception
room was opened and we were herded in.

The din that greeted us was overwhelming. Cheering, catcalling and whistling men
crowded around us, groped our breasts and felt up our buttocks and thighs as we
squirmed helplessly in our bondage. From what Red had said I knew there must
have been forty or fifty slavers in that room. They were all dressed in dark
suits and ties and some of them were already unzipping their pants. At the end
of the room by the wall I could see the row of tables that had been set up for
us. One of the tables had been set apart from the others against the wall at the
side. I wondered why.

I also noticed something else I hadn't expected. A video camera had been set up
in front of the tables and a large wide screen hooked up to the side wall.
Closed circuit TV, I suddenly realized. Our ordeal was to be projected on a
screen to allow everyone in the room to witness every detail of our degradation
while we stood humiliatingly bound and bent over for raping by the dozens of
slavers who stood waiting behind us. It was to be a public spectacle, visible to
all, even recorded so that it could be played back over and over again, not just
for the benefit of this particular pack of perverts but also those who would
come after. It was appalling. Once again I trembled in my restraints, my face
flushed with shame and humiliation at the thought of what lay ahead. The pawing
and groping of our naked and defenseless bodies went on for at least five
minutes until a tall middle-aged man, impeccably decked out in a tuxedo and bow
tie, raised his hands. A hush descended on the milling crowd of slavers. It was
obviously Mr. X himself.

'Let's try and keep this orderly, gentlemen,' he called out. His face was rugged
and angular with high cheekbones and a prominent chin, the skin lined and
creased, the graying hair carefully combed, the thin lips framed by a clipped
moustache. He looked a bit like Ted Turner.

'Gentlemen,' he perorated, 'I'm proud to present you with that special treat
I've been telling you about. It's a little something all of us here at the Farm
have put together, our tribute to all you gentlemen who've come here tonight and
more generally a tribute to this terrific business we're proud to be in. I think
you gentlemen know what it is I'm talking about. I'm talking about freshly
captured slaves. I'm talking about initiation. Gentlemen, I'm talking about
giving a group of freshly captured young women their first real initiation into
slavery, their first good hard fucking in captivity if you'll pardon my French.'
There was a swell of cheering and catcalling voices and Mr. X raised his hands
again for silence.

'Is there a single one of you gentlemen,' he asked rhetorically, 'who hasn't
felt that special thrill that comes from initiating a fresh capture, seeing the
helpless fear in her eyes, listening to her sobbing and crying as she's being
restrained and set up for sampling and testing? It there anyone here who hasn't
felt that special thrill, that excitement and anticipation? Anyone?' The chief
slaver cocked his ear. 'Nope, I didn't think so. That thrill and that excitement
is what drives us on, helps us work harder to overcome obstacles, meet
challenges, defeat our competitors. It's the lifeblood of our business,
gentlemen. And tonight we're going to explore that thrill and that excitement
together.' More cheering interspersed with scattered clapping and catcalling.
Mr. X went on: 'What we've brought you here tonight, gentlemen, are a number of
freshly captured young women, all of them taken in the past twenty-four hours
and all of them still wearing the very same ropes our franchisers used to
restrain them when they were apprehended, that's how fresh these captures are.
These are new slaves, gentlemen, raw and untrained, deliciously resistant,
delectably unwilling, all of them securely bound, all of them skillfully
silenced by our girls here at the Farm to make sure they stay perfectly subdued
during their initiation. And in just a few minutes I'm going to ask our girls to
set them up for you. But first I want my good friend Jim to stand up and take a
bow. Jim?'

A thin balding man wearing a goatee stepped out and raised his hands in
Nixon-like salute as the assembled slavers clapped and cheered loudly. Mr. X
waited for the noise to die down. I wondered if this was the same Jim whom
Shannon had spoken to on her cell phone, the man who had ordered my two captors
to be shot. I watched as the man called Jim approached Karen and whispered
something in her ear. The slave girl turned and pointed at me. Jim nodded and
turned his attention back to Mr. X. The clapping and cheering had faded. Mr. X
went on:

'As all of you know Jim's been directing our training program at the School for
a number of years now. And tonight I'm pleased to announce that he's going to be
moving on to our Security Department as its new Director of Operations. These
new duties are going to be taking up most of his time but I know his heart is
set on keeping a foothold in the training and education area. So in recognition
of his magnificent expertise and achievement in that area we're adding a new
feature at these reunions, a tutorial on one or another basic aspects of our
work. Jim tells me that tonight his tutorial is called 'Handling a Defective'
which certainly sparks my interest because what to do about defectives is
quickly becoming a major bottom line issue for all of us. Jim's going to be
giving his tutorial at the same time as you gentlemen are waiting in line to
sample the new slaves so, unless you're at the head of the line and otherwise
engaged, I urge you to listen carefully to what he's got to say.  Jim, I
understand that you've already selected your demonstration captive, is that
correct?'

'It certainly is, Clive,' the thin balding man replied, 'we have a defective
with us here tonight, which ought to make this a really interesting hands-on
tutorial.'

I wanted to hide my face, disappear from the face of the earth. Through the
corner of my eye I could see Beth and Belinda looking at me. I lowered my eyes,
my face crimson with embarrassment.

'Great!' Mr. X exclaimed, 'and, gentlemen, we've got a separate table set up for
her at the side of the room with a closed circuit TV hook up so all of you can
follow Jim's demonstration and see what's going on in real time on the screen.
So without further ado I'm going to ask our girls to prepare the captures for
their initiation and ask Jim to kick off his tutorial. Thank you, gentlemen, and
enjoy your slaves. Just pick the one you want and queue up behind her. Five or
six men behind each capture ought to keep things moving along nicely.'

The slavers broke out cheering. I watched terrified as Jim picked out a rattan
cane from a rack by the wall and strode to where I was standing with the other
victims, pushing his way past the crowded slavers who were milling around us. He
ran his eyes impersonally over my naked body as though he were examining a pony
at a stable, then turned to one of the slave girls who was guarding us.

'Cut this one loose from the coffle,' he ordered. 

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 13

by Andromeda


The slavegirl stepped forward, knife in hand. It was Brenda, the redheaded woman
whom Karen had assigned to prepare me for raping.

'Lucky you,' she whispered excitedly as she cut the cords that confined me in
the slave coffle, 'you're going to be the belle of the ball.' A three-foot
length of rope was left hanging from my collar. The slavegirl gave it a brief
tug. 'This one stays on for now along with your collar,' she told me cheerfully,
'might have to use it later.'

The belle of the ball, I thought bitterly, tied up, gagged and stripped for rape
with a rope dangling from my neck. I stood fearfully in front of the slave
trainer, mouth taped and hands tied behind me while he inspected my naked body.
I saw him run his eyes over my breasts then tuck the cane under his arm. I
shrank back in my bonds as he seized my tits and felt them up.

'What about her hands, Master Jim?' Brenda asked as she swiftly recoffled Beth
and Belinda to the other captives, 'do you want them as they are or retied
behind her neck, the way you usually do it?'

'Behind the back is fine,' the slaver replied absently as he kneaded and fondled
my breasts, hefting them in his hands as though he were estimating their weight.

'Good tits,' he commented at length, 'how old is this slave?'

I felt Brenda's hands at my wrists behind me, handling my tag. 'About 40, Master
Jim,' she replied.

'And the slave's name is?'

'Holly, sir.'

'Your tits have a pleasant consistency, Slave Holly,' he told me. I reddened as
his fingers slowly stroked my nipples, raising them to erection. 'And your nips
harden nicely when they're stimulated. Outstanding pair of breasts. I want this
capture escorted to the demonstration area,' he told the slavegirl, indicating
the solitary table that stood by the wall facing the video camera. 'Shackle her
ankles and tie her down for back entry. After that, you can go and assist your
team with the others while I make my opening remarks. I'll call on you to do the
vaginal handling when I'm ready.'

Brenda gripped my elbow. 'Make sure you behave yourself,' she whispered, 'and
above all don't struggle. Master Jim loves caning slaves. And he does it hard.
He's done it to me. It hurts, believe me.' As she hustled me toward the table, I
glanced back at the cane, wondering fearfully how it would feel to be struck
with it, trying to imagine its swift painful impact on my bound and helpless
body. It didn't bear thinking about. I could see the slaver walking behind us,
slipping on a pair of disposable rubber gloves as he followed us to the table.

'I need you to bend over and spread your legs, sweeetie,' Brenda told me. I
placed my head down on the tabletop submissively and parted my legs while the
slave girl stooped down behind me and quickly shackled my ankles to the table
legs. I could feel the metal cuffs bite into my flesh as I twisted my head to
peer up at the flat TV screen on the wall above. There I was, viewed from the
rear with my naked body bent over, my legs splayed, my ass and vagina
humiliatingly raised and displayed in sharp digital detail for the benefit for
every single rapist in the room. It was horribly mortifying. I lowered my head.
I wanted to die.

'Try not to move around,' Brenda murmured as she tied off my neck cord at the
far end of the table. She tugged at the knots then circled behind me and patted
my ass. 'Be good,' she said, 'I'll be back in a minute to lube you up.' I
squirmed helplessly in my bonds as I lay on the table top, unable even to raise
my head. I could see the flash of white silk under the slavegirl's pleated
miniskirt as she trotted off to join her three companions who were already
herding the column of gagged and naked women toward the raping tables. Beth and
Belinda were staring at my helplessly bound body as they were dragged forward in
the coffle, their eyes wide and frightened over their gag straps. The slave
girls lined up their charges side by side facing the tables, then, at a signal
from their leader, they swung into action. They were horribly well trained and
efficient. Working in sync, they forced the bound and coffled women to bend over
at their waists and lay their heads on the tabletops. Heartrending cries of pain
and distress issued from gagged mouths as raised buttocks were mercilessly
cropped and quivering legs swiftly kicked apart. Hinged cuffs were produced and
ratcheted quickly around each victim's ankles to fetter them to those of the
victims on either side and create a hideous human latticework of quivering
buttcheeks and shackled legs. I watched in horror as the roped and fettered
captives were jerked and tugged apart to splay out their thighs and tighten the
cords at their necks to prevent them from raising themselves off the raping
tables. When the slave girls had finished their task, the eleven women stood
helplessly bent over in a row with their necks tightly confined in coffle
cordage, their legs splayed to the rear and cuffed at the ankles, their roped
wrists twisting helplessly behind their backs and their crotches raised and
pushed out to exhibit their asses and vaginas. It was a horrifyingly inhuman
spectacle, a humiliating and degrading display of helplessly exposed female
flesh. I turned my face away, all too aware that I too stood similarly bent over
with my ass and vagina pushed out and presented for raping except that my own
humiliation was even worse. It was being taped and displayed on a monitor on the
wall above my head. The slave trainer, Master Jim, was speaking into a
microphone. His voice boomed out over the din.

'This is Slave Holly, gentlemen, the defective I was telling you about. Notice
the ass and the legs, shapely and attractive despite the slave's age which is
about 40. What's more, the breasts are still firm and well-formed as many of you
will have noticed when she was brought through. On the face of it, this slave
still has several years of useful life left before she needs to be retired. She
should, therefore, command a fairly decent price on the market. Yet Slave Holly
was very nearly retired by her captors earlier this evening and it was only with
some difficulty that we persuaded them to hand her over to us for possible
recovery and training. I'm now going to subject her to a quick examination to
determine her anal and vaginal parameters.'

I gasped as the slaver's fingers were inserted simultaneously and painfully into
my vagina and butthole, probing and reaming them thoroughly for several minutes
while I twisted helplessly in my restraints. My face was flushed with
embarrassment at being forced to suffer this indignity in front of a roomful of
men. That this degrading procedure was being taped and displayed on closed
circuit TV only served to rub salt into the wound. I bit down on my gag and
ground my wrists against my ropes, using the pain to try and block out the waves
of shame and humiliation that welled up inside me.

'The T&L examination shows the subject's vagina to be fairly flabby with very
little in the way of natural lubrication,' the slave trainer lectured
professorially, 'what's more, the anal passage requires a good deal of loosening
up before it can be used. This is as expected and pretty much accounts for the
slave's classification as a defective. But is this cursory examination
sufficient, gentlemen?'

The slaver withdrew his fingers and peeled off his gloves. Over by the row of
tables, the four slavegirls were moving quickly down the chain of bound and bent
over victims, busily masturbating vaginas and massaging lubricant into raised
and defenseless buttholes. At the far right I could hear Beth's gag muffled
moans of distress as her privates were unceremoniously lubricated and
masturbated to prepare her for rape. Her raised buttocks bore the hideous red
stigmata of the cropping she'd been given while she was tied down. Then it was
Belinda's turn. I heard her gasp as one of the slavegirls, I could see it was
Brenda, applied a dab of lubricant to her anus. A moment later, groans of
undisguised pleasure slipped out from behind Belinda's gag as the slavegirl
massaged the lubricant vigorously into the lining of her ass and stimulated her
clitoris to coax out her vaginal secretions. I gazed askance at the former
school librarian. What I could see of her duct taped face on the tabletop was
flushed with arousal and lust. I shuddered as I recalled the obscene jet of
vaginal juices that had streamed out from between her legs when she'd been
masturbated against my living room wall. I was appalled that this depraved
creature could actually be enjoying the hellish assault on her dignity that was
being perpetrated in this awful place.

Behind me the slave trainer's voice boomed out through the public address
system. 'The question I'm trying to raise, gentlemen, is why? Why should a
potentially valuable item of merchandise be prematurely retired after what was
almost certainly a cursory and incomplete examination of her assets similar to
the one I've just carried out? Can we afford this sort of carelessness?' he
asked rhetorically. 'The short answer is that we can't. Times are changing
rapidly. Top quality captures are harder to come by. Digital Angels are being
aggressively marketed to allow police to locate our prey after capture. Law
enforcement officials are becoming more and more expensive and competition
within the slave trading community is becoming fiercer with each passing day.
All these negative trends will only get worse in the months and years ahead and
the upshot is that we need to regard each capture, each and every woman who
falls into our hands, as a potentially valuable piece of merchandise, even those
women whom we previously had the luxury of regarding as defectives. What I want
to bring out tonight is how we can turn a so-called defective into a productive
and marketable slavegirl. This is a two pronged program requiring an attack on
two fronts, vaginal and anal. In my experience it's always best to proceed with
the vaginal work first. Bear with me please.' 

I felt a sudden surge of anger and resentment, of sheer indignation at the idea
that I was no longer a person, that I was now nothing but a potentially
"valuable item of merchandise" a potentially "productive and marketable
slavegirl." Suddenly, involuntarily almost, I strained at my bonds. I knew I was
securely and helplessly bound, that struggling was not only futile but that it
could even get me punished but I was consumed with rage and the urge to free
myself was overwhelming. Stabs of agonizing pain shot through my tightly bound
and lacerated wrists as I struggled desperately against my cruel and unyielding
bondage. After a moment I subsided in defeat, sobbing hopelessly into my gag.

'Notice how this slave is still attempting to free herself, even after hours of
restraint,' I heard the slave trainer comment impassively. 'As is usually the
case, bondage in itself is not enough to fully subdue a fresh capture, even when
the bonds are tightly and inescapably applied as is obviously the case here. The
problem resides in the slave's will. Her desire to resist and escape from her
predicament remains unbroken. Which brings me to my next point. Slave training
begins at capture and this applied to every capture, not just defectives. We
don't wait. As soon as a freshly captured slave has been bound and gagged,
discipline and obedience become job one. Breaking a slave's will to resist and
escape is as important as restraining her physically. To achieve that there is
only one technique that has stood the test of time. Correction and discipline,
swiftly and severly administered.'

I heard the swish of the cane a fraction of a second before I felt its impact.
Pain exploded in my ass, radiated in a thousand directions through my lower
body. It was horrendous. I cried out through my gag. Tears ran freely down my
cheeks onto the tabletop.

'For disciplinary purposes I personally favor the rattan cane,' I heard the
slaver remark coldly. 'Each individual stroke delivers a telling amount of
punishment to the target area. It doesn't just wound the skin, it damages the
underlying tissues and leaves the flesh severely marked with deep red welts that
take a long time to heal. Notice the pair of neatly parallel markings on the
subject's buttocks, two on each cheek, a characteristic signature of the cane.
Another characteristic of this correctional technique is the echo effect. The
pain of the initial impact is augmented by a secondary wave of pain about 7
seconds later as the numbed and bruised nerve endings start to react. The
subject is already in considerable pain. We can exploit the echo effect by
delivering another sharp blow to a different area of the buttocks. Like so.'

Again the terrible swishing sound followed by the impact. The explosion of pain
forced another muted cry of anguish from my muzzled mouth. It was too harsh, too
cruel. I wept brokenly. My shoulders heaved as I sobbed hopelessly into my gag. 

'And now we wait seven seconds before delivering the third and final blow to the
same area as the first to amplify the pain with the echo from the second blow.
Watch closely please, gentlemen.'

I almost blacked out at the third stroke. It struck me directly over the bruised
flesh from the first stroke. The pain was unbearable. I screamed in agony
through my gagging cloths. The cloths muted my screams, allowing only muffled
grunts of pain to emerge from behind the tightly wadded panties that had been
packed inside my mouth.

'Observe the subject's reaction to her caning. As is usual in such cases she
resorts to tears in a futile attempt to win sympathy for her plight. Needless to
say, one or two more strokes on the same spot would open up the welt and cause
it to bleed. Should we go on? I don't think so. Our purpose here is disciplinary
and corrective, not overtly punitive. To cause severe injury to the slave at
this stage would be counterproductive, especially as we would wish to keep her
relatively fresh and ready for immediate sexual use. Slave Brenda, would you
come here please? I'm ready for you now.'

As I lay on the tabletop sobbing in agony and humiliation, I could hear the
clicking of Brenda's heels as she trotted up. Over by the tables, the men had
formed queues behind the bound captives and the first row of rapists was already
in position, their erect and throbbing members thrusting deeply into into their
victims' defenseless asses and vaginas. The raping had begun.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 14

by Andromeda


'Sir?' I heard Brenda's voice behind me, felt her caress my sore and aching
asscheeks. 

'Prepare this capture for vaginal use,' Master Jim told the slavegirl, 'I want
her thoroughly masturbated and lubricated. I'm counting on you to apply your
usual skill.'

'I'll do my best, sir,' came the eager reply. I reddened and shifted in my
restraints but managed to keep my bound hands still behind my back for fear of
being caned once again. From where I lay with my face pressed down on the
tabletop I could see Beth bent over the raping tables, roped and shackled in
place like the other women with her hindquarters impaled on a thick hard shaft
wedged deeply inside her ass. I could hear the gag muffled cries of pain and
distress that were ripped from her throat with each thrusting penetration of her
mercilessly distended butthole. I wondered how long the tautly stretched and
tortured tissues could bear the strain of the thrusting before they ripped open.
Beside her stood Belinda, similarly bent over with her arms tied back, her neck
noosed and her shapely legs spread and fettered at the ankles. She too was being
ravished. Unlike Beth though, the librarian seemed to be reveling in her
degradation. Lustful grunts of pleasure filtered through her wadded and taped-in
panties as her rapist held her captive snatch immovably skewered on his shaft
like a trout on a pike for a few brief seconds before he ejaculated violently
inside her. On her left was the dark-haired girl who been in front of me when we
were herded into the room. She was sobbing and screaming through her gagging
cloths while a bearded slaver stood between her parted thighs relentlessly
plowing into her crotch, his pants and shorts bunched up around his ankles, his
white shirttails flapping around his buttocks like sails in a stiff wind. I
couldn't see whether the girl was being taken vaginally or through her ass but
from her gag-muted screams of pain I had no doubt that she was being raped
anally. I felt Brenda lean over me and cup my caned and throbbing buttcheeks
with her hands.

'Your poor buttocks,' she whispered in my ear, 'I saw what happened to you.
Everyone in the room was watching you get caned. It hurts, doesn't it?' I sobbed
and nodded miserably.

'I warned you about Master Jim,' the slave girl whispered, 'and I warned you
about struggling against your ropes. At least you've been taught a lesson.
You're going to be good now, aren't you?' Again I nodded and sobbed. The brutal
caning had left its mark and not just on my bruised and lacerated buttcheeks. It
had marked me inside. More than being stripped and manhandled, gagged, roped and
raped, it was being caned that finally broke my will. I could feel the markings
of my enslavement and debasement on my flesh as though they'd been burned in
with a red-hot branding iron.

'Try and relax now, sweetheart,' Brenda murmured, 'I have to get you ready for
the men. At least this part won't hurt. You're going to like it, trust me.' I
squirmed as she teased open my pussy lips and slipped her fingers inside me. I
had never before been touched intimately by a woman. It felt strange, almost
unreal. Yet her touch was surprisingly soft and delicate, almost as though she
were handling a rare and fragile flower. Against my will, I could feel the
stirrings of arousal in my loins as the hood over my clitoris was gently pushed
aside to bare the tender and sensitive nub of flesh to her softly caressing
finger.

'You've never had this done to you by a woman before, have you, sweetie?' I
heard her whisper. I grunted no through my gag and shook my head. 'Just relax
and let yourself get wet, sweetheart,' she murmured softly as she gently stroked
my clit to coax out my intimate secretions. After the harsh and humiliating
caning, the soft and quiet masturbation was thrilling, almost unbearably
pleasurable. In less than a minute I was thoroughly wet. My pussy throbbed with
desire. With a suddenness that took me utterly by surprise a powerful jet of
vaginal juices streamed out from between my thighs and formed a puddle on the
floor. I reddened with shame and embarrassment. I had never ejaculated before,
never experienced anything remotely like it in my entire life.

'Those of you who are standing close by can see how Slave Holly is responding,'
I heard my trainer remark with satisfaction, 'and for those of you who are
watching this on the screen I've let the camera zoom in on her vaginal opening
to allow you observe the details. Notice how the slave is not only secreting
copious amounts of vaginal fluids she's actually spraying them out like a bitch
in heat as the clitoral masturbation takes effect. We're talking about a
so-called defective here, gentlemen, but as all of you can see this particular
slave is responding to her vaginal stimulation far better than any of us could
have expected.'

Spraying like a bitch in heat. Humiliation and self-loathing welled up inside
me. I remembered bitterly the contempt I had felt when I'd watched poor Belinda
spray her own vaginal secretions over my living room floor. Racked with shame I
tried desperately to suppress my arousal. I couldn't. The waves of pleasure that
radiated from my throbbing snatch were too powerful to resist. As the slavegirl
masturbated my clit, my juices spurted out from between my legs in a
humiliatingly steady stream. They soaked my thighs, ran down my calves. I felt
like a common slut.

'You're creaming beautifully, sweetheart,' Brenda whispered, 'I'm going to rub
some of those juices into your cunt walls. Just relax. You're going to be
wonderfully wet and ready for use.' I felt the slavegirl remove her finger from
my clit and slip it smoothly into my sopping vaginal passage where she firmly
and expertly massaged my secretions into its throbbing lining. The deeply
penetrative masturbation drove me wild. I totally lost control of myself.
Involuntarily, I began grinding my hips and rubbing myself against the
slavegirl's hand. I couldn't stop. I ached for release, longed for the slavegirl
to masturbate me harder and deeper, yearned for a swift filling impalement on my
trainer's shaft to bring me to orgasm. I honestly couldn't believe what was
happening to me. Never before had I behaved so lewdly and wantonly. I had become
like Belinda, I thought bitterly, reveling in my debasement and defilement,
grinding my hips in an orgy of frustrated lust and desire. What I was
experiencing was beyond my understanding.

'Naturally, all of us don't have the same degree of skill as Slave Brenda has
displayed here,' I heard Master Jim say, 'she's actually one of the finest
vaginal handlers I have ever seen and I know that some of you here have had the
opportunity of attending her hands-on demonstrations at the school. We're all
quite impressed with her. Notice how the slave is furiously grinding her hips as
she attempts to climax. If her hands weren't tied she would doubtless be using
them as we speak to masturbate herself to orgasm. This slave's sexual energies
are visibly strong and robust. With proper training they can be harnessed and
channeled to create a marketable and valuable piece of merchandise. You can stop
now, Slave Brenda, don't let her climax. I'm going to be using her vagina
presently and I want it hot and hungry. Gentlemen, I'm going to ask all of you
to give Slave Brenda a round of applause. The vaginal handling has proved to be
a rousing success!'

A burst of cheering and clapping broke out in the room as the slave girl
withdrew her hand and left me gasping with frustration and pent-up desire.
Almost immediately I felt the slave trainer's hands on my buttocks, the tip of
his hard shaft being slipped in between my labia. My pussy throbbed with
anticipation as I waited for the thrust of penetration and impalement but my
trainer kept his shaft tantalizingly poised between my pussy lips while he went
on with his interminable lecture.

'I'm going to using this slave for a quick tutorial on submission. Most of you
have heard this material before at the school but it bears repetition. We rape
our captures not just to test for tightness and lubrication but as one more
means of enforcing submission and obedience. That's why it's important for a
fresh slave to be used as soon as possible after her capture. It reinforces her
sense of helplessness, teaches her that her body is no longer her own property,
informs her that it now belongs to others. It's also important to talk to the
slave while she's being used, explain what's being done to her in simple and
graphic terms, elicit her responses and enlist her participation in her
submission. I'm going to have to put my microphone aside but if you're standing
nearby and you listen carefully you'll be able to hear my personal take on how
to do this.'

I felt a quick thrust as the slave trainer's shaft was driven into my pussy and
felt my vaginal muscles ripple and contract as they welcomed it in, felt my
snatch wrap itself gratefully around the thick hard rod of throbbing flesh. I
gasped with pleasure as I felt it being withdrawn then rammed in again more
forcefully. I ground my hips as I felt its fullness, felt its base rub wetly
against my clit, felt its firm thickness stretch my wet and palpitating vaginal
walls. Wave after wave of excruciating pleasure washed over me as my trainer
probed and plowed my pussy with swift hard strokes of his penis.

'Your cunt's nicely wet, slave,' my trainer grunted as his glans battered at my
womb, 'what I want to hear from you is confirmation that you're enjoying this.
Do you like having my cock up your cunt, slave? Do you like being fucked in
front of a roomful of men who are going to be using your cunt after I'm done
with it? Just a quick grunt through your panties will suffice.' I grunted as
loudly as I could through my muzzle. If I hadn't been gagged I would have
screamed it out to let everyone know how badly I needed to be taken, how much I
wanted this. I was glad I was gagged.

'Good,' Master Jim grunted as he took another few quick thrusts through my
throbbing pussy. I felt his member stiffen inside me and strain against my
cervix. He was close to orgasm. 'I'm ready to shoot my load into your fuckhole,
slave,' my trainer told me, 'once again I want you to grunt through your gag to
let me know that you're ready and willing to accept it.' Again I grunted into my
wadded panties. I did want it. I couldn't deny it. I felt thoroughly broken,
completely mastered by this ruthless slave trainer who had chosen me as his
demonstration captive. Ejaculation came a moment later, a powerful stream of hot
semen that washed over my womb and filled my passage as my trainer emptied
himself inside me, pumping his load into my pussy in a series of excruciatingly
pleasurable spasms that took me over the top. I came. Wonderfully. Wave after
wave of sheer unadulterated pleasure broke over me as my pussy contracted and
expelled its juices around my master's throbbing shaft. Sated and filled, I
collapsed in my restraints, groaning gratefully through my panties,
humiliatingly thankful for my orgasm, even thankful for the fact that I had been
denied the use of my hands, been kept bound and unable to resist my ravishment.
The tightly knotted ropes around my wrists behind my back suddenly felt
strangely appropriate, almost comfortable. Even my soiled panties suddenly
tasted sweet in my mouth. I felt oddly content, pleased that my trainer had kept
me securely tied and gagged for his use, almost proud that I'd been firmly and
helplessly restrained and forced to submit. My trainer withdrew from me and
picked up his mike. Electronic clicking noises rang through the public address
system as he tapped it sharply to draw everyone's attention.

'You'll notice that I've allowed the slave to enjoy an orgasm. Her obvious
submission warranted it in this case. A slave's orgasm has to be earned. We use
positive reinforcement to train the slave, to teach her that just as resistance
and struggling meets with harsh correction and discipline, submission is
rewarded by pleasure. I'm now opening her up for public use, gentlemen. Those of
you who are standing at the end of one of the queues might want to consider
lining up behind this demonstration capture to sample what she has to offer.
Vaginal use only, gentlemen. We'll be opening up her anal passage as soon as the
vaginal work is completed.'

I could hear several slavers queueing up behind me, heard their lewd comments as
they inspected my cum soaked snatch and bruised buttocks. The slave trainer
raised his voice.

'One more request gentlemen. As a matter of courtesy to the next user in line,
please make sure to leave the vagina in the same condition you found it in.
Clean out your ejaculate after you've taken your shot. You can leave some inside
to serve as a lubricant but not very much or the vagina gets unpleasantly sloppy
and loses its grip. Cleansing only takes a couple of seconds and it helps keep
the vagina fresh and ready for the next user. Please watch carefully as I
demonstrate the proper procedure.'

The slaver inserted his finger into my sopping vagina and quickly flicked out a
few gobs of semen then inserted what felt like a cloth to sop up more of my
wetness. I squirmed and bit down on my panties as my pussy was thoroughly mopped
and readied for further use. Over at the row of raping tables, my daughter's
first rapist had shot his load and gone, replaced by a squat heavyset man with
his hair in a pony tail. He stood between her fettered legs, his monstrously
thick shaft driven deep into her butthole. A thin rivulet of blood ran down from
her brutally stretched and distended anus to her crotch. Beth's anal membrane
had ripped. As I turned my face away I could hear her sobbing brokenly into her
panty gag. Behind me a rapist was already in position between my legs, his glans
inserted between my labia. Bent over in my bonds I waited pliantly and patiently
to be fucked.

Holly's Home Invasion

Part 15

by Andromeda

As I lay bound and submissive on my raping table with a fresh cock at my cunt I
was quietly reassessing my situation. I was thrilled, almost ecstatic about my
training so far. My freshly raped vagina felt wonderfully warm. It positively
glowed. My first training rape had been skillfully administered. Sternly and
expertly gagged and bound, I had been dexterously masturbated to draw out my
secretions then firmly and forcefully fucked and given my first taste of orgasm
under restraint. It had been so wonderfully intense, so powerful, so utterly
different from the flatly insipid climaxes I had experienced in my life as a
free woman that it had given me an entirely fresh perspective on my predicament.
Being enslaved wasn't so bad, I decided cheerfully. Captivity had its
compensations. I was starting to like it. In fact I no longer minded that my
humiliation was still being recorded and displayed on closed circuit TV. I was
proud of my bonds, pleased that my trainer had arranged to have me publicly
exhibited in restraints, secretly thrilled that I was fully stripped, bent over
and forced to display my well fucked and still dripping snatch to a roomful of
slavers. I was adjusting to captivity, being retrained for a fresh new life as a
slave. And I wasn't too old to be retrained, I thought brightly. A lot of women
changed their lives at my age. And in any case I was tired of being a teacher. I
felt girlishly thrilled about my new life in bondage. I felt like the heroine in
an adventure novel, captured in a raid by armed marauders, bound and gagged and
ruthlessly raped then led away into slavery by her captors. It was exciting,
even romantic. I almost felt like a teenager again.

Naturally there were negatives. Being caned was painful and humiliating. I had
already had a taste of it, been disciplined for trying to slip my bonds, and the
correction had been harshly and sternly administered. My asscheeks still smarted
from the punishment. But I knew I had deserved it. And the correction had taught
me that a slave caught trying to escape her restraints can expect to be
punished. I'd been taught a lesson. There were probably other lessons that I'd
have to be taught so I knew I could expect to be disciplined again as the need
arose. Being beaten and flogged was an unpleasant but inevitable part of being a
slave and it was definitely something I'd have to get used to. But in any case I
had to admit that the pain and humiliation induced by a good sound caning was a
singularly effective teaching tool. I was a teacher myself and I smiled inwardly
when I considered how pleased I would have been to have had such a handy
expedient at my disposal for use at school. I knew one or two girls in my
literature class who would most definitely have benefited from having had their
panties unceremoniously lowered in front of the class and given a sternly
administered correction on their bared buttocks.

But floggings aside, I felt tremendously elated about my training so far. My
first training rape had been excruciatingly pleasurable and my orgasm
delightfully satisfying. I wanted more and I was pleased at how promptly a fresh
new penis had been slipped into the entrance to my warm and throbbing pussy. I
waited for it to be lodged inside me but the slaver, whoever he was, held back
and toyed with me, reaming me slowly, running his glans playfully over my clit
to moisten me with his precum. I pushed out my buttocks invitingly and grunted
insistently through my panties to indicate how eager and ready I was to be
taken. If I hadn't had my hands tied behind me I would have reached out and
wantonly drawn the teasingly playful shaft into my snatch. I ached to feel it
lodged inside me, longed to be taken and brought to another thrillingly exciting
climax.

'Looks like this one wants it real bad, Jim,' I heard the slaver comment behind
my back, 'she's just begging for it. Look at how she's pushing her ass out at me
doing her damnedest to try and get me to shove it to her. Real horny bitch
you've got here.'

'Every slave is different, Hank,' my trainer remarked, 'some adjust quickly to
captivity, others take a lot longer. My job is helping them make that adjustment
as quickly as they can. Slave Holly seems to a fast learner. I have to admit I'm
impressed.'

I blushed at the compliment. I felt inordinately pleased by my trainer's
evaluation of my progress. I kept my pussy resolutely pushed out as the rapist
reamed me, longing to feel my juices start flowing as they had flowed earlier in
response to the slavegirl's exquisitely skillful handling. I remembered
wistfully how copiously I had creamed when Brenda had masturbated me, how
wonderfully and surprisingly my secretions had streamed out of my cunt. I had
felt humiliated by it at the time. Now I longed for it. But it failed to occur.
I stayed dry. It was more than mildly disappointing. It was mortifying. My only
lubrication was the thin layer of ejaculate my trainer had left in the lining of
my pussy. I still looked forward to being reimpaled but prayed that it wouldn't
be too painful.  'How is she lubricating?' my trainer asked.

'Not much to write home about, Jim,' the slaver mused, 'bitch is pretty fucking
dry down there. Funny when you think how wet she got before. Spraying like a cat
in heat, wasn't that what you said?'

'I could get Slave Brenda to masturbate her for you. Would you like that?'

'Nah, I'll fuck her dry, Jim. I kinda like it when it hurts 'em.'

'Be my guest,' my trainer said, 'but please make sure she's left undamaged.
She's a potentially valuable piece of merchandise. Her vaginal training's
important to me.'

'No problem, Jim,' Hank grunted, 'I'll treat the bitch with kid gloves.'

I stiffened as the slaver drove in his shaft and lodged it inside me. It felt
uncomfortable, unpleasant even. I squirmed in my restraints as I tried to adjust
to the impalement. The shaft was massive. It rubbed harshly against my lining.

'How's that feel, cunt?' the slaver growled as he held me motionlessly impaled
on his thick hard rod like a fish skewered on a spear, 'enjoying it? Like having
my cock rammed up your fuckhole? Lemme hear you grunt sweetly through that gag
the way you did for Jim here. Come on cunt, lemme hear you grunt.'

My choke cord tugged at my neck as I shook my head weakly. I wasn't enjoying it.
I didn't like it at all. It was painful. His cock was too long and too thick and
my snatch was too dry. I writhed helplessly in my bonds. 

'You don't like it, cunt?' my assailant muttered, 'you don't wanna grunt for me?
Well now ain't that too fucking bad. Maybe you'll like it better when I ram my
cock up your ass once it's open for business. How about that, cunt? Think you'd
like that?'

Again I shook my head. He was being ghastly. Tears came to my eyes. I could feel
my girlish enthusiasm about my training starting to dissipate. Why was he
treating me this way, I wondered bitterly. Surely he knew how badly I'd wanted
to be fucked, how invitingly I had pushed out my pussy to receive him. Couldn't
he see how helplessly and humiliatingly I'd been bound and gagged, how sternly
and uncomfortably I'd been impaled on his shaft? The man was awful. My tears
streamed down my face as I wept bitterly into my gagging cloths. I felt utterly
deflated. 

'Nope?' the rapist growled, 'well shit, there don't seem all that much you do
like, honey. Tell you what. While you're waiting to get fucked up your ass,
lemme give that cute little fuckhole of yours a good hard workout to get you
started.'

I gasped and bit down on my gag as the slaver tore into my bound and helpless
body with sadistic abandon. He pummeled my pussy, slapped his testicles against
my crotch. His shaft scraped the poorly lubricated lining of my snatch, his
glans battered at my womb. The slaver raped my bound and helpless body as though
he were pounding a punching bag. It was painful and degrading. Once again I felt
the awful sting of captivity on my skin, the humiliation of bondage, the pain
and degradation of rape, everything I had experienced when I'd been ravished in
my home so many long hours ago, everything I had forgotten in my momentary
flight of fancy about my adjustment to captivity, about my new life in slavery.
The fleeting euphoria engendered by my orgasm was gone, its place taken by
shame, pain and frustration. I had longed to be taken, had girlishly thought it
romantic to be captured, bound and gagged, raped and enslaved. Now I squirmed in
shame at my silliness. Bent over my raping table with my thighs spread wide and
my ankles confined in cuffs, my wrists bound behind me and a choke cord at my
neck, I could only wriggle helplessly as I tried to dislodge the massive shaft
driven mercilessly and painfully into my flesh. I couldn't budge it. The
impaling member must have been at least ten inches long and two inches thick.
Inescapably tied down and impaled, I sobbed bitterly into my gag and squirmed in
my restraints as I was brutally and painfully raped.

'Keep your ass still while I'm fucking you, cunt,' the slaver grunted, 'keep
jerking around and I'll whip your ass so bad it'll turn black and blue. Got
that?'

'What's the problem, Hank?' I heard the slave trainer ask politely.  .

'Fucking bitch keeps wriggling around trying to shake me loose,' the rapist
muttered as he pounded me, 'and to top it off her fuckhole's got no fucking grip
to it. It's too damn loose. It sags.'

'Yes, I noticed that, Hank, but you have to make allowances when you're training
an older capture. And one who's had kids. Did you know we've captured her
daughter as well? Check her out. She's over the tables by the wall, first one on
the right.'

The relentless battering paused for a moment or two as the rapist peered at
Beth. She stood bent over her raping table against the wall, her gagged face
firmly held down on the tabletop by the neck ropes that bound her to her fellow
victims, her legs shackled and spread to open her crotch. A slaver crouched
behind her back, his hands thrust beneath her breasts, his shaft driven deep
into her snatch. She was fighting her bonds, twisting her wrists, trying
desperately to free them from the ropes that imprisoned them behind her back.
Her calves strained futilely at the cuffs that held her ankles. I could hear
them rattling against the table legs. Tears of humiliation streamed
heartbreakingly down her cheeks while blood trickled gruesomely down her thighs
from the tear in her anus. My choke cord dug painfully into my neck as I turned
my face away and wept bitterly for my ravaged daughter.

'You're shitting me, Jim,' the rapist muttered as he resumed his brutally
painful assault on my sore and aching pussy, 'you're telling me that's her
daughter? Can you believe I just got through fucking her a few minutes ago?'

'Really? Interesting coincidence,' my trainer remarked noncommittally.

'Yup. Sure is. And it looks like mom's little girl just got her cute little
asshole ripped open. She was OK when I was fucking her though, you can take my
word on that.' A noticeable stiffening of the shaft inside my vagina clued me
that the sight of my daughter's torn and bleeding anus had further aroused the
rapist's sadistic lust. I tried to twist around and catch a glimpse of him
through my tears but I was too securely and expertly bound. My restraints
allowed no play, no freedom of movement whatsoever. I thought back, trying to
remember whom I had seen raping my daughter but I couldn't remember. In any case
the slavers had all looked pretty much the same to me from the rear. Was it the
man with the ponytail? It couldn't have been. He'd been raping Beth while Hank
was standing behind me waiting to take me.

'Whaddya want for her, Jim? The girl, I mean,' my rapist asked as he plowed my
pussy relentlessly.

'I've been planning on keeping her for a while, Hank, and the mother as well,'
the slave trainer replied. 'I'd like to see them put through our training
program here. But I might consider selling the two of them together as a pair if
the price is right. Do you want them both? If you do we can probably negotiate a
mutually satisfactory price.'

'Nope, just the girl. Her mom's no fucking good to me. Too old to bear children.
I'm looking for breeding stock for our church community up in Montana. We're
busy building a survival haven out there for when Armageddon comes.'

'Armageddon?' The slave trainer was politely inquisitive.

'You bet. It's coming, believe you me. It's right around the corner, just a
matter of time. You oughta sit up and take notice, Jim. Events are shaping up
real fast.'

Armageddon. He wasn't just a slaver and a sadist. He was a survivalist fanatic
as well. I sobbed as I felt his shaft stiffen and throb inside me, ready to
ejaculate. An instant later I felt his orgasm, sickeningly strong and hard, a
massive discharge sprayed forcefully against my cervix. Endless spurts of hot
semen bathed my womb and backwashed through my vagina. It was a flood. As the
rapist withdrew his shaft I could feel the thick slimy liquid oozing out
humiliatingly through my pussy lips and running down the insides of my thighs. I
felt horribly abused and degraded, utterly defiled.

'Enjoy that, my pet?' the rapist asked sarcastically as he patted my sopping wet
pussy possessively, rammed in his fingers and massaged his ejaculate into my
lining. I squirmed with humiliation.

'Well?' my trainer asked, 'how did she do?'

'Good piece of fuckmeat, Jim,' the rapist commented with his hand at my snatch,
'I kinda like her even if her fuckhole's too loose. And, man, does she look
good, all tied up and gagged with her hole nicely fucked and dripping with cum.
Fucking shame she's old to breed. Anyway, lemme ask you again. How much do you
want for the girl?'

Holly's Home Invasion, Part 16

by Andromeda



'How much do I want for the girl?' the slave trainer repeated with a note of
irritation in his voice, 'I just got through telling you, Hank. The girl and the
mother get sold together or they don't get sold at all. Forget about it.'

"Well it's your decision, buddy,' Hank murmured bitterly, 'they're your slaves,
your property, your call. Lemme get this bitch cleaned out for you like you
wanted.' He thrust some sort of hard swab into my snatch and reamed it roughly
to sop up the ejaculate he'd discharged inside me. Somehow the cleansing
procedure was even more degrading than the rape itself and he administered it
gratuitously hard to make sure it hurt. I bit down on my gag and endured the
demeaning procedure in silence until a few sudden hard jabs of the swab against
my cervix sent agonizingly sharp stabs of pain ricocheting through my ravaged
pussy. I cried out repeatedly through my gag pleading with him to stop but the
tightly packed panties stuffed inside my mouth absorbed my cries mercilessly and
effectively. The rapist chuckled evilly as I broke out sobbing with pain a
frustration.

'You gotta learn to shut the fuck up, honey,' he growled as he pulled out the
swab, 'your trainer said I had to get your fuckhole nice and clean for the next
fella so that's what I did. Go with the fucking program, sweetheart.'

'You could have left some of that semen inside to coat her lining, Hank,' Master
Jim remarked, 'it would have provided some lubrication for the next user.'

'Yeah right,' Hank muttered, 'the bitch won't cream herself on her own, huh?'

'You obviously haven't been paying attention, Hank,' my trainer said dryly,
'Slave Holly was creaming herself copiously when she was masturbated earlier on.
She was even spraying her vaginal juices on the floor. You must have missed
that. But she does require skillful handling. You obviously failed to provide
that.'

'Yeah, well, fuck you very much, Jim. You can keep the girl. There's plenty more
pussy to fuck around here tonight so thanks a lot but I'm gonna move my dick
somewhere else.'

'Have a nice evening, Hank,' Master Jim said politely. He tapped his mike for
attention.

'Gentlemen, as I've said before on many occasions, slave girl handling is an
art, not a science. Effective training requires a marriage of discipline and
delicacy. Stern discipline is required to deter struggling and punish any
attempt at escape. On the other hand tact and delicacy is needed when handling
the slave's vagina and attempting to coax out her natural secretions prior to
penetration.'

'Fuck those secretions, Jim,' I heard someone yell behind me, 'show me the
fuckhole. My dick'll take care of the rest.' This shout drew a round of cheering
and catcalling from the rest of slavers standing behind me. My face was suddenly
flushed with shame. I couldn't believe that just a few short minutes earlier I
had been fantasizing excitedly about my new life in slavery, that I had been
secretly proud that I was bound and gagged, secretly pleased that I was
displayed naked and bent over in front of this crowd of perverts and
psychopaths. I was in the hands of animals. I began trembling. My naked body
felt cold. I longed for some clothing, anything, a pair of shorts or even just a
pair of panties to cover up my nakedness. For the umpteenth time, I was bitterly
conscious of my tightly roped wrists behind my back, of the harsh cuffs at my
ankles and my soiled and foul tasting panties that the slavegirls had stuffed
inside my mouth and wedged in place with so many tight turns of duct tape around
my neck. I felt miserable.

'That may be,' the slave trainer said evenly, 'but what we're talking about here
is slave training, we're talking about rape as a training tool. Rape training
isn't just about teaching a slave that her private parts are no longer her
property. Nor is it about using her for our personal pleasure though that's
undoubtedly a felicitous by-product of our work. The goal of good rape training
is to produce a marketable product, a slave girl who will lubricate dependably
whenever and wherever her master wishes to use her. This is a bottom line item.
We're talking dollars and cents here. Do I make myself clear?'

Master Jim paused and waited for a reaction. No one said anything. The slave
trainer's invocation of the all-important bottom line had effectively silenced
the hecklers. Buoyed by the silence, he plowed on.

'So if you'll allow me to proceed, I'm going to demonstrate the proper way to
coax out a slave girl's natural juices. To achieve good results, correct
handling of the slave's clitoris is key. This is something all of us are
familiar with, yet somehow we fail to apply it properly in our work. Slave
Brenda has already demonstrated how skillfully this can be done and though not
all of us can hope to compete with her expertise, we can nonetheless do our best
to work on our skills and improve our performance. Please keep your eyes on the
screen.'

Master Jim was about to masturbate me. Suddenly my mood changed and I shifted
excitedly in my restraints. I felt a rush of arousal and a sudden wetness in my
pussy. The thought of my trainer's hands on me thrilled me.  I remembered how
powerfully I'd been aroused and how wonderfully I'd climaxed under his skillful
handling. I knew that my arousal had been inextricably laced with shame, that
I'd felt simultaneously degraded and excited. It left me wondering uncomfortably
if that was it took for me to come so intensely. Was I just like Belinda under
the surface? A bondage slut? It didn't bear thinking about.

'I'm going to do another quick T&L check on this slave,' Master Jim announced,
'but I'm not concerned with her grip this time, just her lubrication. Please pay
attention.'

I pushed out my pussy wantonly as the slave trainer inserted his finger inside
me. I felt it slip smoothly into my lubricated snatch and I moaned with pleasure
through my panties as the finger was thrust deep inside me. I felt
simultaneously degraded and thrilled by my trainer's casual handling of my most
private part, the impersonal way his finger explored my vagina, massaged its
lining and took stock of my wetness. My nub ached for his touch but he
deliberately steered clear of it. If I hadn't been gagged I would have begged
him to touch me there. Is he saving my clit for later I wondered, as another
surge of wetness streamed from my lining through his probing fingers. I hoped he
was pleased to find me like this. I wanted so badly to please him. How would he
react? I briefly fantasized that he'd withdraw his finger and proudly announce
that this slave had creamed her cunt without even having had her clit
masturbated. I glowed with pride. Once again a humiliating gladness that I was
bound and gagged ran through me, that strange mixture of shame and arousal that
I had experienced before. I was thankful for my gag, thankful that my hands were
bound behind my back so I couldn't reach my gag. Could I have endured this
degrading yet ever so thrilling finger fucking in silence if I hadn't been so
well muzzled, I wondered. I waited breathlessly for my trainer to announce his
findings.

'Once again,' the slave trainer announced with his finger still thrust inside
me, 'just as before her training began, Slave Holly's vaginal passage shows
little in the way of natural lubrication, just a thin lining of ejaculate left
over from the rape training she has already undergone.'

I was shocked. Why was he lying, I wondered. Why? He obviously knew how hot and
wet I was for him. Why was he concealing it?

Master Jim went on. 'The problem is that this slave's sexual responses have been
dammed up by the rough treatment she received as the hands of her last user.
That roughness was entirely gratuitous, I might add. The slave did nothing to
deserve it. On the contrary her body language indicated clearly that she was
doing everything in her power to cooperate in her ravishment. We saw her grind
her hips, push her vagina out at her user and even moan through her gag to
indicate that she desired penetration. Bear in mind that we're talking about a
freshly captured slave who is, naturally enough, severely restrained. She has
her mouth tightly and uncomfortably gagged and her wrists bound harshly and
painfully behind her back. Her neck is confined in a noose and her ankles are
securely shackled by tightly drawn handcuffs. Yet in spite of the obvious pain
and discomfort of her bondage this slave has displayed a willingness to be
trained which is quite unusual at this early stage of her captivity.'

In a flash, I understood. He wants an excuse to masturbate me, I thought
brightly. He knows I'm sopping wet but he's going to masturbate my clit anyway!
That's why he's concealing the fact that I'm already wet for him. And he enjoys
me! Look how he's kept his finger inside my pussy all this time. I trembled with
anticipation as I waited for his fingers to caress my clitoris. Suddenly I felt
the slave trainer withdraw his finger and pat my moist pussy lips encouragingly.
What now? I wondered. Why did he suddenly remove his finger? My clit ached for
him and my pussy felt empty without his finger up inside it. In a sudden fit of
frustration I cursed my restraints. How I would have loved to have been free to
turn around and seize his hand and guide it back to my throbbing pussy! I longed
for his thrilling touch but the slave trainer paused for a brief moment then
went on with his peroration.

'In a moment I'll be subjecting Slave Holly to some clitoral stimulation that
should draw out her vaginal secretions quite nicely. But before I do I'm going
to do something fairly unorthodox. As some of you are probably aware, my
personal training philosophy is that ultimately, one should be able to take a
well trained slave girl and subject her to slave-rape without the need for any
restraints whatsoever. Naturally this is a long-term goal but the presence of so
many of our well trained girls here in this room shows that it's hardly
unrealistic. All of them, I'm pleased to say, have been trained to accommodate
their users without the need for restraints. Naturally, bondage should be eased
gradually during training so as not to compromise security but I've found it
pays to start this procedure earlier rather than later. And although this
approach is still controversial I've found it gives excellent results in cases
when the slave has displayed an early willingness to cooperate with her captors.
So as a reward for good behavior, I'm going to ease Slave Holly's bondage and
make her a little more comfortable. I'm going to ask Slave Brenda to remove the
ankle and neck restraints. The gag and wrist ropes will stay on for the time
being.'

I could hardly believe it. My feet free from the cuffs, my neck released from
the choke cord! All right, my hands would have to stay bound behind my back and
my gag would stay on but I couldn't wait to have my feet and my neck released
from their tight painful bondage. Behind me I could hear the gasps of
astonishment that accompanied the slave trainer's announcement. A few of the men
booed loudly.

'Gimme a break, Jim,' I heard one of the slavers exclaim, 'whaddya gonna do if
she bolts? Tackle her down?'

'Yeah,' shouted another one, 'what the fuck is this? Be Kind to Your Slavegirl
Week? Keep those cuffs on her for chrissake.'

'If it ain't broke, don't fix it, Jim,' a third man called out behind me, 'your
bitch looks real good just the way she is. Those cuffs stay on!' Suddenly a few
slavers took up a chant. 'Cuffs stay on! Yeah! Cuffs stay on! Yeah! Cuffs stay
on!' they chanted. I was so embarrassed I felt as though I wanted to die. The
slave trainer stayed silent and waited patiently for the chorus to die down.

'Your concerns are noted, gentlemen,' he declared at length, 'but as to the
possibility that the slave could try and bolt, that is, I'm afraid, thoroughly
unrealistic. She knows she won't get very far. And she also knows she'll be
severely punished. She has already been given a mild but punishing taste of the
cane and the markings are still visible on her buttocks. She can expect much
worse if she attempts to escape. Isn't that so, Slave Holly?' He gave me ass a
light tap with the cane for emphasis. 'Please grunt once through your gag to
indicate that you understand.'

I grunted once. I knew I couldn't get away. I didn't want to get away. And I
certainly didn't want to be caned again.

'Good. After your neck and ankles are freed you are to remain just as you are,
bent over your table with your head down and your legs spread wide as though
they were still in restraints. You will maintain that position until I allow you
to change it. Is that understood?'

Again I grunted once through my panty gag. I would have agreed to anything to be
free of the tightly drawn cuffs and the chafing choke cord and have my trainer's
hands back at my pussy.

'Outstanding. Gentlemen, I don't anticipate any trouble whatsoever with this
particular slave. An important part of my job is forming quick and accurate
assessments of the women who fall into our hands and I've already formed a
fairly accurate assessment of Slave Holly. She is, I'm pleased to say, a natural
submissive, a slave who enjoys her training or at least that part of her
training which is properly administered.'

A natural submissive. Could it be true, I wondered. Could that explain those
brief and humiliating flashes of thankfulness that I was bound and gagged? Again
I asked myself if deep down I was just like Belinda. And again I shied away from
the question. I felt the trainer place his hand on my ass and lean over me.

'Did you hear what I just said, slave?' he asked me. I grunted once. I had
heard.

'You heard me tell these gentlemen standing around waiting to sample your assets
that you take pleasure in submitting and that you're enjoying the training
you're receiving here provided it's done properly and skillfully. Am I right?
Grunt once for yes, twice for no. Keep your answer honest.'

I didn't know what to do. It had been all too obvious that I'd enjoyed Brenda's
skillful masturbation of my clit, that I'd climaxed dramatically when Master Jim
had raped me. Not only had it been obvious, it had been displayed on closed
circuit TV just above my head. Now my trainer was forcing me to admit it. I
didn't relish having to admit that I'd enjoyed being raped. I hesitated.

'Slave Holly?' Again I hesitated.

'I asked you a question, slave, and I expect an answer. I'm not accustomed to
waiting for a response, not from you, not from any slave. Keep me waiting
another five seconds and I'll give you another caning, three fresh strokes on
your buttocks right over the markings from your first caning. It won't be
pleasant. Take my word.'

It was mortifying but what could I do? I grunted once through my gag, my face
crimson with embarrassment.'

'Good. An honest answer, slave, though it may have been hard for you to admit
it. Another question, Slave Holly. Do you secretly enjoy being bound? Again I
want an honest answer.'

That question would have been easy to answer an hour ago. Now I wasn't so sure.
I grunted twice through my gag for no.

'No? Really?'the slave trainer was sceptical.

I grunted twice again. I might be able to deceive my trainer but could I deceive
myself? There had been that brief flash after my earlier rape when I felt
humiliatingly proud of my bonds, had felt thankful that I was gagged and
restrained. It had happened then and it had happened again while Master Jim was
finger fucking me a few minutes ago. That was two times too many for comfort. I
was learning strange truths about myself. 

'I suspect you're not being entirely candid with me, Slave Holly, but I'll allow
it to pass. Slave Brenda, would you unlock the slave's ankle cuffs and free her
neck from the choke cord, please? Leave the gag and wrist bindings in place.'

I felt Slave Brenda's hands at my ankles, unlocking my cuffs. Blood rushed
painfully into my feet as they were freed from the tightly drawn metal
restraints. The slavegirl tucked the handcuffs into her pouch and leaned over me
to loosen my neck binding. She kept one hand on the inside of my thigh just
below my crotch as she fiddled with the noose.

'Master Jim likes you, sweetie,' she whispered in my ear as she gently stroked
my thigh, 'he likes you a lot. I can tell. So can all the other girls. We've all
been watching and no one's ever seen him do this for any other slave. It's just
unheard of. Lucky you. That stuff about his training philosophy is just a lot of
bull.' The slave girl tugged fitfully at my choke cord while she felt me up,
brushing her hand lightly over my pussy lips. Her face next to mine was flushed
with excitement. The noose came loose and she slipped it up over my head.
'There,' she whispered, 'I bet that feels better already. Keep it up. You're
doing wonderfully well. If your luck holds out he'll be freeing your hands and
removing your gag soon. We're all making bets on it. I've got $50 that says
he'll have you untied and ungagged in less than an hour.' She gave my pussy lips
a final pat and stepped back. As she did, I grunted softly at her. I hoped she
would win her bet. Bent over my raping table with my ankles and neck blissfully
freed from their restraints I waited, head down and legs spread wide, for Master
Jim to masturbate my clit. My hands were still bound and my mouth still gagged
but my cunt was sopping wet with desire for my master. If only he'd fuck me too,
I thought wistfully as I waited.

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