A beautiful, pale skinned, slender young woman is lying unconscious on a round carpeted
dais in the middle of a large dimly lit room. A light shines directly above her,
spotlighting her recumbent form. But for leather bracelets around her ankles and wrists
and a steel collar around her throat, she is naked. She has long shapely legs, delicate
round hips. Her hair is long, straight and black.
Standing in a broad semi-circle around the young girl are three men. The man in the
middle is a heavy set, well-muscled black man. He is tall, standing about 6’4”. His hair
is close cropped. His face is broad, thick lips, a large flat nose. He is wearing a
reddish brown robe of light cotton with dark red piping. It wraps around his middle, tied
by a yellow cord. The robe descends to just below his knees, which are bare, along with
the rest of his legs and feet. The robe has short half sleeves, which flare out.
Standing on either side of him are two similarly outfitted men. The one on the right is
Caucasian, perhaps Latino. His hair is brown, and is drawn into a short ponytail. His face
sports several days of growth, probably designed to hide the four-inch long scar along his
right cheek, as it partially does. He is not as tall as the man in the middle, standing
about 5’11”
The man on the left is slender and tall, almost 6’2”. His slightness of build hides a
tightly compacted frame. The muscles on his arms are well toned. As he stands, his poise
and natural grace are apparent. His hair is blond, cut almost to the scalp. He has no
facial hair.
The men look admiringly on the supine form of the girl. Their grim faces bespeak a firm
sense of purpose. A faint odor of burning coals fills the room.
As the girl begins to stir, the black man signals to the man on his right. Nodding, the
Latino steps up to the dais. A slender chain descends from the ceiling. He quickly clasps
the girl’s wrists to the chain and steps away. The tall, blond man has stepped over to the
wall and started a winch that will pull the chain upwards. He stops the machine just as
the girl’s hands rise slightly above her body.
A groan escapes the shapely young prisoner. Her eyes blink open. She is still groggy and
takes a few moments to absorb the strange scene. She is unsure whether what she is seeing
is real or a terrible dream. Suddenly she realizes that what she is seeing and feeling is
not a dream. She is naked, her wrists are chained. Three brooding men are standing over
her, watching.
There is a moment when the girl is so surprised at her surroundings that she stares
blankly at the men. She moves to join her legs together and cover her breasts with her
hands. Recovering from the initial shock, she speaks. She is speaking French. The men
don’t speak French but the gist of what she is saying is not lost on them. Certainly she
is expressing her fear and shock at her unexpected surroundings. Yesterday, she had been
at a cocktail party. She had worn her black, strapless dress and matching high heels. She
had been told that it would be an exclusive party. She knew no one there except the young
Italian boy who had brought her. She had a drink. She felt dizzy. He had led her to a
bedroom. She had lain down. And now this.
The black man, obviously in charge, motions the tall man to raise the chain. The tall
man restarts the winch, which begins to pull the girl’s arms up over her head. Seeing her
hands rising, the girl frantically tries to pull back on the chain. But the chain is
strong and the winch that is winding it is sturdy, able to withstand the strongest
paroxysms of fear and desperation that a young female can exert.
The rising chain forces the girl first to her knees and then to her feet. She continues
to fight its inexorable rise, but to no avail. She is speaking loudly, panic in her voice.
Her eyes dart about the dimly lit room. The poor lighting hides its full contents from
her. The spotlight that shines down on her further obscures her view. Dimly, in the
background, she can vaguely make out a large, obesely fat man sitting in a brown leather
armchair. He is smoking a cigar. His face is hidden.
The thin man rejoins the others when the still struggling girl has been pulled to her
full height, her toes barely reaching the floor.
Two of the men step forward. The lithe young woman tries to shie away from them. As they
reach for her ankles she tries to kick at them, to push them away. But the men are
practiced and they easily imprison her ankles in their hands. Besides, with her body
extended so, her toes just able to scrape along the carpeted surface of the dais, she is
unable to obtain any purchase to add force to her flailing legs. The men quickly pull her
ankles apart and affix them to chains on the sides of the dais. She is now fully
suspended, her body forming an inverted ‘y’. When they are done, the two men step back and
observe the now helpless form of the frail but well shaped female before them.
The men now can more fully take in her splendorous features. Her face is long and
narrow, with a delicate, slightly upturned nose. The lines of her jaw are graceful and her
eyes, somewhat wide apart, are a luxurious green. The breasts, while small, stand out
firmly from her body, topped by long, dark, thick nipples. Her belly is taut, her hips
curvaceous. The muscles of the legs, which strain to fight their confinement, are thin but
well toned. The hairy bush at the center of the girl’s legs does not hide the now wide
open sex. Although young, barely 19, the girl has no baby fat around her waist. Someone
has made an excellent choice.
The man in the middle, the heavy set black man, now moves forward to the girl, stepping
up on the dais. He runs his hand down her naked hip, feeling the soft and supple skin. He
stares into her eyes as he fondles her breasts with both hands. The girl has stopped her
futile struggle and is silent. This man frightens her. He has the look of a brutal,
ruthless person, one who would enjoy hurting her. But he must also have the answer to why
she is here, how she got here, what is to become of her. He does, but he says nothing to
her.
The Latino steps up and hands the black man a tasseled whip. The girl sees it and,
knowing that it is for her, renews her pleas. The words mean nothing to the black man.
Although he cannot understand them he knows what is being said because he has heard it
many times before in many languages. He rubs the whip tantalizingly along the girl’s
breasts, her stomach and thighs.
Her words are now understandable since they are almost universal. “No! No! No!” she
cries. She sees that she is about to be whipped. She does not know why, but she hopes that
her pleas can dissuade this menacing madman from inflicting harm on her. But the man will
not be deterred. He stands back, leaving ample room to swing the whip and exert the
strength of his thickly muscled arm.
The man is insensitive to her wailing complaints as he thrashes her. He is moving around
her as he swings the whip. The two other men are standing back, enjoying the spectacle. A
blow to the girl’s sex increases the pitch of her complaints dramatically. The girl is
crying now, her sobs interspersed with wails and screams as each blow falls.
Finally, the whipping is done. Her body is crisscrossed with the evidence of her
suffering. The black man hands off the whip to the Latino and nods to the tall blonde man.
He quietly steps over to the shadows and returns with a rod of iron. He holds it with
heavy gloves. Its tip is a fiery red. It is a branding iron. The Latino returns and
releases the ankles of the still sobbing girl. She does not see the branding iron behind
her and has no idea what new cruelty is in store for her. She expects to be raped, and she
will be shortly. But she cannot conceive of being branded. She does not know that she has
become property. And property must be marked.
The Latino approaches the girl and presses his body against hers. His chest mashes her
small breasts against her body. She can feel his stiff member beneath his robe, smell the
man’s sweat. But this is not yet part of the sexual assault that she is soon to
experience. This is something else.
Locking his legs around the girl, the Latino holds her tight. She is immobilized; her
ass juts out as the Latino presses his loins against hers. The tall man acts immediately
as he sees the young woman secure and perfectly poised. With a sure hand, he pushes the
red end of the rod against the girl’s skin, near the top of the right buttock. The girl
stiffens and screams at the unanticipated, excruciating pain. The brand is held there for
three seconds and then removed. It has left a deep gouge in the girl’s flesh. She has
fainted.
The black man takes a small dollop of ointment, tinged in red. He rubs it across the
fiery wound. The ointment will disinfect and promote the healing of the blistered flesh.
The dye will seep into the raw skin and color it. He steps back. The girl is limp in her
chains, muttering some prayer or plea, almost inaudible. The Latino joins the others
behind her. As they pull off their robes, in preparation for this female’s first sexual
use as a slave, they pause to admire the tall man’s handiwork. There, burned permanently
and indelibly into the girl’s flesh is a bright red, three inch high, cursive “k”.
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