CHAPTER ONE
The circle “T” brand that graced the skin over Jill’s left buttock still throbbed and
stung even now, hours after it had been burnt into her. Jill desperately wished she could
put ice on her seared flesh or lather it with cold cream. But there was neither ice nor
cream and she was a naked, helpless, gagged and blindfolded prisoner and more miserable
and frightened than she had even been in her young life.
Jill was bent doubled-over on her knees, her hands manacled behind her back, inside
a cramped rectangular cage of heavy wire mesh reinforced by metal angle bars. Her
shoulders pressed against the top of the cage, her nose brushed the rim of a small opening
in the mesh at one end, while the pout of her shaven sex rubbed against a matching slot at
the other. A bulldog clip pinched the soft petals of her inner labia together with
painful tightness. Her enforced posture also exposed the head of the cork that protruded
from between her buttocks, plugging her anus. Heavy-duty bungee cords had been looped and
hooked through the cage, passing under her torso, crossing her neck, chest and waist and
pulling her up hard against the cage roof. At least that took some of the strain from her
bunched thighs and eased the pressure on her knees and shins, which rested on a foam
rubber mat that lined the cage floor. More cords were wrapped about her ankles and pulled
her legs out to the sides of the cage. The most unrestrained and mobile parts of her
body were her heavy pendant breasts that trembled with her muffled sobs and occasionally
swayed slightly with the motion of the aircraft in which she was an unwilling passenger.
It was a small cargo plane and the drone of its turbo-props filled the hold space.
Jill’s cage was one amongst several others, each with its own parcel of naked female
flesh. She could feel the body heat from those on either side of her and hear their
stifled moans and whimpers. She could even smell the heady musk of their arousal. Though
that seemed incredible in the circumstances it was entirely normal for girls of their
sort. Even terrified as they all were they could not help such a response to bondage and
exposure. She felt the oily wetness of her own labia adding to the aroma. Not for the
first time she marvelled at her own perversity but she did not try to fight it. It was
her only defence against what was to come.
Was Sondra’s scent mingled with the others? Jill hoped so. She knew she had been
caged up with the others and wished she could speak to her and tell her it was not her
fault. Jill had gone into this with her eyes open, knowing the risks and prepared for
everything except the treachery that had brought her to this moment: bound for a life of
perpetual slavery and degradation in a place she only knew as TARTARUS… another name for
hell!
* * * * *
It had begun for Jill months earlier when she submitted herself to the discipline of the
shadowy Purgatory Club, a secret institution run by and for families of the rich and
famous, where their errant wives, girlfriends and wayward daughters were taught manners
and respect by the most humiliating and brutal means. At the time Jill had been
infatuated with her beautiful but rebellious friend Sondra Rhodes and when she found
Sondra had been sent to Purgatory she had naively pressured her parents into sending her
there to. The masked and anonymous staff and members of Purgatory had indeed broken
Sondra of her bad habits and reduced her to a meek shadow of her former wild self, but it
had also unlocked Jill’s hitherto unsuspected taste for masochistic sex and submission.
Upon her return, cured of her love for Sondra and filled with a new self-confidence, Jill
had left home to work in a BDSM club.
However a desperate secretly written letter from Sondra had interrupted Jill’s
happy new life. Supposedly Sondra had moved to Brighton and out of Jill’s life, but the
letter said she was being held captive by people she thought were Purgatory members and
mentioned for the first time the mysterious name of “Tartarus”. Jill had contacted
Mister Tiger, a founder and president of the Club and told him about the deception and
apparent kidnapping of Sondra. He revealed concerns about other former club girls being
mistreated or going missing and asked Jill to be his spy in the guise of a slave diverted
in transit from Purgatory to her home. This allowed her entry the private residences of
those members he suspected and then gave him the excuse to “rescue” her and make a search
for Sondra. He had even had a club member who was also a doctor at a private clinic fit
her with an inter-uterine tracking device as an additional safeguard.
Eventually Jill had found Sondra on the estate of a slave-owning couple going under
the Club pseudonyms of Bison and Hornet. Here they and other girls were being prepared
for a life of total slavery in the mysterious Tartarus. At the last minute, just before
they were to be branded, Tiger had appeared – only to reveal he was actually the Purgatory
Club secretary Viper in disguise. Sondra had been the bait to capture Jill. The secrecy
and deceptions “Tiger” had suggested she use to go undercover had in fact assisted in her
own disappearance. Every club member she had supposedly investigated had been part of the
plan and supporters of the Tartarus project, which was far larger in scope than she had
imagined. Carefully selected girls who had passed through Purgatory Clubs right across
Europe had been spirited away to stock Tartarus as perpetual sex slaves, where they were
expected to earn the conspirators huge rewards.
The last image Jill had of Viper, through the tears of her branding and with his
sperm still dribbling from her well-sodomized anus, had been his mocking wave. ‘I’ll be
visiting Tartarus in a couple of weeks. By then I expect to find you’ve become a properly
broken hell-slut…’
And so Jill and Sondra had been caged and loaded into a lorry with another pair of
girls and driven away. At some small airfield they had been transferred to a plane,
joining girls from other slave farms, and now they were flying to Tartarus, still not
knowing where it was, only that once there they would never return.
* * * * *
An unseen hand pulled the strap and plug-gag from Jill’s mouth, breaking in on her
miserable recollections. She felt her hair grasped through the cage mesh to steady her
head while the plumb-tip of a hard cock was rubbed across her lips. She opened her mouth
and took the slug of flesh inside, sucking and licking with automatic and instinctive
eagerness. Neither her unseen captor’s action in taking advantage of her nor her
response either surprised or shamed her. She was a naked caged sex slut and expected
nothing less. In fact it allowed her to briefly forget her fears, imagining she was in
transit in a Purgatory van being used by its crew for their pleasure and revelling in her
utter helplessness.
With a grunt and sigh the man came inside her mouth, filing it with his hot seed
that she dutifully swallowed. He pulled out his cock trailing dribbles of sperm. Jill
licked her lips but did not attempt to speak, holding her mouth hopefully open. The spout
of a water bottle was pushed between her lips and gratefully she gulped the liquid down.
Then her gag was replaced and she was left in mute darkness with her bleak thoughts once
again.
A growing wave of despair threatened to overwhelm her. What would it do to her
parents when they realised she was missing? She felt hot tears filling her eyes
underneath her blindfold at the thought of them. They didn’t know what Purgatory had done
to her and certainly didn’t deserve such grief.
She tried to get angry instead, struggling to put aside her own guilty feelings
about how she could have been taken in so completely by Viper. Of course he had been
helped by the fact that the Purgatory Club members wore animal masks all the time. She
had never seen the real Tiger’s face. The rest had simply been a question of imitating
his voice and manner.
What mattered now was the evil thing he was doing to her, to Sondra, to all the
girls in the plane. They might be natural sluts and submissives but that did not make any
of this right. Jill wanted to choose when and who to submit to on her own terms. Viper
was part of a conspiracy kidnapping and trafficking girls on a continent-wide scale. He
was greedy for money and sexual power and not content with all the girls passing through
the Club he could have had who deserved correction. Very well, she told herself, she
would see he did not get away with it. Somehow she would escape Tartarus and ensure Viper
got the punishment he deserved.
* * * * *
Perhaps an hour later, though by now her sense of time was getting hazy, a hand reached
through the rear slot of her cage and took the bulldog clip off her labia. Jill groaned
as the blood flowed back into her tender flesh bringing an acute sensation of burning pins
and needles. Stiff fingers parted her sticky flesh lips and thrust briefly into her
vagina. Then she felt the rim of a plastic funnel pressed against her pubes and
gratefully released her pee. The thought that somebody was watching her perform this
intimate function while bent over like an animal only gave her a little frisson of
pleasure; another small diversion to be treasured. When she was done the funnel was
removed, toilet tissue was wiped through her cleft — a small but welcome consideration —
and the clip was replaced. The cork in her bum, however, stayed in place. It seemed
their attendants did not want to wipe dirty bottoms. Wherever she was going she would
arrive constipated.
From one side came a rapid squeaking of metal, mingled male grunts and muffled
female gasps. The cabin crew were taking full advantage of their live and helpless cargo.
Were they screwing Sondra? Jill hoped she remembered to abandon any remaining shred of
pride and take all the pleasure she could out of it. That was all that was left to them.
* * * * *
Despite her anguish Jill must have dozed, because was woken by the bumps and jolts of the
plane landing. Was this it, had they reached Tartarus? The plane taxied and came to
rest. The engines cut leaving a numbed silence in place of their monotonous drone.
There came a mumble of voices from the forward end of the plane and the clunk of
opening hatches. Hot sun-baked air washed over Jill’s body. With rustle of fabric Jill
felt some sort of cover being pulled over her cage. She heard new voices chattering in
some foreign language. Greek, she thought it sounded like. Were they in the
Mediterranean?
With bumps and scrapes the cages were unloaded, slung between two men at a time
carrying them by the handles hooked on each end. Jill felt herself swaying between them
until she was set down on rough boards and slid along until her cage banged against
another. More cages were piled around her. With a thud and rattle a door slammed shut, a
diesel engine growled into life and they bounced and jolted away.
There followed twenty minutes of stop-go driving through what sounded like a snarl
of honking, impatient traffic, during which Jill’s cage became stifling hot under its
cover. Finally the lorry came to a halt again. The back flap was lowered and the cages
were dragged out. There were sounds of activity all about them. Was this Tartarus?
Dripping with sweat, Jill felt a welcome draft of fresher salt-tanged air seeping under
the corner of her cage cover. They were by the sea. Where to now?
The cages were arranged in a pile and what felt like ropes were wrapped about them.
A command was shouted, a heavy motor whined and they were jerked into the air, twisting
slowly this way and that as they were swung up and round and then dropped with alarming
speed. They had been put in a cargo net and were being hoisted aboard a ship.
Jill felt they were being lowered further than they had been lifted. They were
going down into the hold. They bumped down onto a deck, the net was freed and their cages
were lifted clear and stacked in a row on one side. Somebody went along the line of them
pulling off their covers. Jill sucked in a grateful lungful of cooler air, carrying with
it the scent of fresh vegetables, fish, olive oil and a whiff of cigarette smoke. More
shouts, clangs and rattles followed. Then a heavy engine throbbed into life, setting the
deck vibrating, and Jill felt a surge of motion. They were underway.
* * * * *
Perhaps another hour passed before Jill heard the tramp of feet in the hold once more.
‘So, more pussy angels all sailing to hell,’ a thickly accented hearty voice boomed
out. ‘Let me look on your pretty faces…’
People moved down the line of cages. Jill felt hands unfastening her gag and then
her blindfold. She screwed up her eyes against what seemed to be dazzling light, the
first she had seen for half a day. Gradually her sight adjusted. The light came from an
open deck hatch through which could be seen brilliant blue sky. It illuminated girders
and deck plates mottled by peeling paint and rust, stacked crates of all sizes, dangling
chains and three men standing before the row of cages. Two were young, muscular dark
haired, with grins on their faces and prominent bulges showing through their worn and
work-stained jeans. The third man was older, swarthier, bearded and burly, with a
potbelly contained by a broad leather belt. Greying hair showed under his battered
peaked cap. He was beaming lecherously down at them.
‘It is no matter what you see now, pussies. Cry out if you wish for there are none
but the gulls and fish to hear. You are now guests of Captain Spiros and his poor crew.
We carry the cargos, we get paid, and we ask no questions.’ He scowled. ‘But you look
tired, my pretty pussies. You need the blood putting back in your cheeks and cunties…’
He clapped his hands. The younger seamen fetched wine bottles with long straws in
them and went down the line of cages making each girl suck up several mouthfuls of coarse
red wine. The wine burned in Jill’s empty stomach, but at least it dulled the persistent
stinging throb of her brand.
‘That is better,’ Spiros said. ‘We do not want to deliver cold fish to Tartarus.
Now you have some colour in you let me look you over.’ As he spoke he walked along the
line of cages, grunting as he bent over to peer at their faces, reaching through the
feeding slots to turn their heads to inspect their profiles. When he reached the end he
returned along the back of the row, patting and pinching their bottoms and fingering their
pubes. ‘They have my envy, those who can afford to stay in Tartarus. What a paradise to
be surrounded by such as you all day long to do with as they wish! Alas, I am but a poor
sailor. I must take my pleasures as they come my way.’ He grinned, showing a gold tooth.
‘For a few short hours you are in my care. We agree to deliver you to Tartarus still
packed up like the tinned sardines.’ He shrugged expressively. ‘But who knows or cares
if we take one of you out for a stretching of her legs… and other things? Now, which
shall it be? I think… this little blonde one here…’
He unlatched the front of a cage along the line from Jill, unhooked the bungee
cords securing its contents and pulled the girl out by her hair. It was Sondra.
Jill bit her lip but said nothing, for she could do nothing to prevent what was to
come.
With her wrists still manacled behind her back Sondra whimpered in pain as the two
young seamen lifted her stiff and bent body up straight before Captain Spiros so he could
admire her slim body. With large gnarled hands he stroked her firmly rounded buttocks,
her small high breasts with jutting pink nipples and her tight golden pubic curls. He
released the clip holding her labia closed and fingered her pouting cleft and cupped and
fondled and tweaked her proffered flesh while smiling into her wide, helplessly resigned
eyes.
The younger men turned Sondra round and bent her over so Spiros could inspect her
haunches. Spiros fingered the head of the cork plugging her anus. ‘Ah, the heat that
must be in here,’ he mused. ‘But like the good wine it must stay corked…’
A year ago, Jill knew, Sondra would have arrogantly spat in his face and tried to
gouge his eyes out merely for touching her. Now she was spiritless and broken: reduced to
a timid slave that invited either protection or exploitation. The sight of her rekindled
in Jill a glimmer of the old lust that had died when Sondra had so shockingly and publicly
rejected her at the Purgatory Club. Now she was the confident one and Sondra the weaker
but it gave her no joy. She found she pitied her and felt responsible for not realising
how vulnerable she was but she no longer felt that foolish puppy love. So much had
changed so quickly.
A timber beam hung against a stanchion just above head height. Several lengths of
clip-ended chain dangled from it. The men carried Sondra over the post, pressed her back
against it and looped the chains under her arms and across her chest, pulling them tight
before clipping them in place so they supported her weight. Then they lifted legs off the
ground so her knees nearly bushed her breasts, pulled them wide and looped the outermost
of the hanging chains under her knees, forcing her back to bend, lifting her hips and
holding her groin splayed open and inviting.
Spiros gazed almost reverentially at the sight of her suspended body and the
enforced pout of her out-thrust and deep-cleft vulva. ‘By the saints, you are a true
angel. And such skin of pink and gold. It longs for the lash…’ He unbuckled his belt and
slipped it off, doubling it over in one hand. ‘I shall make that so pretty bottom of
yours dance until you beg to serve me and all my men…’
The belt swished and cracked. Sondra screamed as it licked across her taut
buttocks and the exposed mound of her sex, leaving a scarlet stripe across her pale flesh.
Spiros struck again, setting Sondra writhing and jerking in her chains, sobbing and
yelping miserably
Dizzy from the wine Sondra’s distress tied a knot in Jill’s stomach even as her own
sex pulsed hotly and grew wet. Sluttishly she empathised with what Sondra was undergoing
and wished she could take her place; knowing she could turn the men’s pleasure into her
own.
Finally Sondra began to beg shamefully: ‘Ahh! No more… please screw me, Master…
eek! I want you to fuck me… Ohhh! All of you, fuck me, pleeeze….!’
Spiros threw aside his belt and ripped open his flies to free a thick stubby
erection. Clasping Sondra’s buttocks in his calloused hands he rammed into her. Sondra
screamed in despair and wretched delight, her chains clinking with each brutal thrust.
Jill writhed in frustration in her cage. Find the pleasure, Sondra, she thought
over and over. Don’t let this be all for them. Pretend it’s your fantasy.
Spiros snorted like a bull as he came inside Sondra. As soon as he pulled out of
her and stepped aside, mopping the sweat from his brow, one of the younger sailors placed
a bucket at the foot of the stanchion under Sondra’s groin. Then he took up a fire hose
and flushed her out. Sondra yelped at the cold water bubbling and foaming out of her
freshly ravished vagina. Turning off the flow and dropping the hose, the seaman freed his
straining erection and thrust it into her sopping sex.
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