EXTRACT FOR
Island Of Terror - Book 1
(Terri Pray)

     The fire burned beyond the walls of the ancient home, there, within its depths, the smoldering remains of one unfortunate soul, slowly turned to ash. The last of the watchers from the village lingered around the burning faggots, waiting for some sign that the devil would come and claim the soul of their chosen one. A sign that never came, nor would it. Devils didn't exist, but the foolish, the innocent, and the ignorant believed otherwise; which was something that he and his kind used to full advantage, and had done since the first days of the infamous Inquisition. They'd played on the terror, and continued to do so even now. It was a way of controlling others, a means that had worked very well, until now.

      Now, however, the laws were changing. Entire towns and villages had been stripped of their women ??" according to rumor, and those who remained were no longer willing to surrender everyone to the Inquisition. The rules had changed; King Philip III of Spain had insisted that all members of the Inquisition must have a background in law. As such, Veron and his kind knew their days were numbered. 

      Ah, but the days had been good ones until this point.

      He closed his eyes, smiling at the memory. How many bodies had he broken on the rack? How many women had pleaded for their lives, willingly baring their bodies to his view?

      More than he could count. 

      Ah, the days of supreme power had been good, and a time he would remember for the rest of his life. But, the world was changing around him. Not always for the good. And it wouldn't be long before the last of the powers of the Inquisition were crushed beneath the new power of man's law and science. 

      Soon the villages would turn against his kind ??" not something he wanted to risk. Nor would they risk it not when there were other options, plans already in motion to take his people to a place of safety. 

      The central stake in the middle of the fire beneath the main walls now cracked and tumbled into the flames. Whatever was left of the woman was now consumed, lost to the fire. She wasn't the first, but for now she might well be the last. 

      The Inquisitor shook his head and looked away from the glow. A pity, the woman had been interesting. If there'd been another option for sacrifice to the flames, he'd have found one. But, if the only ones who died were ugly old hags, then sooner or later someone would begin to question the group. 

      Another reason why they had plans to leave. 

      Still, it was done, the chosen sacrifice had surrendered her life, albeit unwillingly and with great pain, and that one death had resulted in four new slaves for his group. Four new, trembling, terrified, ready to obey anything commanded of them, slaves. Such as the beautiful, collared and now owned, frightened woman who even now knelt at his feet. Better service than the fire ??" the public screams as the flame burned skin, fat and muscle alike. 

      This was true power, power of life and death over another living soul. He could toss her to the flames or to the crowds as he wished, and no one would stop him. She was already one of the damned as far as her one time neighbors believed. They'd never help her. She was nothing to them now. 

      Not even the woman's one time husband would step forward to help her. He'd been the one to turn her in. All it had taken were a few well placed lies and it had been over. She'd been surrendered, already half stripped, and well beaten by her husband to drive out the devil's touch ??" it hadn't worked of course. How could a devil be driven out when one had never existed?

      Not that he cared. Why would he?

      High Inquisitor Lord Veron smiled at the trembling woman. Such a rare beauty, she'd been lost on the peasants here. That was no longer a problem.

      His hand tangled in the midnight locks of the woman at his feet, holding her in place, his grip tight, without mercy or care for her desires. Her lips remained locked around his cock, for now at least. Her soft tongue played over his throbbing erection as he watched the entertainment in the courtyard, a smile claiming his lips. Naked bodies writhed in pleasure and pain, locked in chains, bound in ropes, gagged, whipped, controlled ??" surrendering the freedom of their bodies in return for a chance of life.

      He groaned, barely controlling his urge to fuck her face until she gagged. He shuddered, taking a deep breath. It wouldn't do to lose control. Not in front of the others, at least.

      His eyes closed for a moment, his cock throbbing in his need to fuck her raw. He groaned, his balls tight, pressing against his body, needing to empty into her mouth once and for all.

      Not yet, she's not begged for it yet.

      They didn't always beg, not at first. They learned, beneath the lash they learned. Eventually they would beg, plead and sob in the hope that they could be found pleasing. The one at his feet had a long road ahead of her. 

      If she survived the first few weeks, that is. Displease him, or one of the others, and she'd die. She'd been taught the basics, but nothing more. 

      Her tongue teased across the head of his cock, tormenting him with the promise of more to come. His eyes opened, a low roll playing through his hip. His breath caught in the back of his throat. 

      Any life was better than no life at all even a witch, or demon spawn knew that. They'd been taught that fact through fear, pain, humiliation and captivation. Given a taste of what his brothers and sisters could do, more than a few of the condemned preferred to offer themselves rather than cleanse their souls in the immortal flame. Perhaps, through their service, they would find the path back to a true life, but he doubted it.

      "Master," the dark haired woman whimpered as she pulled down the length of his erection, her full lips pursed, only a breath away from the head of his encouraged cock. "Please, have mercy on your slave; do not send me to the fires. I beg you, have mercy on me."

      Lord Veron, Chief Inquisitor of the renegade remains of the Inquisition, looked down at the trembling, terrified woman who had dared to speak without permission. The days of the Inquisitors having complete, and utter control over the populace had died, over twenty years ago, but a few loyal souls had banded together. 

      Perhaps their path had changed in the years, but it suited those who remained. Suited him. Those sworn to him were ready to do whatever it took, anything at all, to bring the faithless to their knees. 

      Faith. Faith in what?

      In obedience, of course. What else mattered? The trappings of the original Inquisition had served their purpose, and amongst the small villages, or easily led, it still worked in order to bring new slaves to their knees. Women like Maria. 

      "And what will you give me if I grant you life, slut? What could you possibly have to offer me, little whore? I already own you. Anything I want I can take from you. Your life, your soul, your reason to breathe, they're all in my grasp slut."

      Panic flared into life, tainting the soft blue eyes of the trembling woman. "Master, I'm begging you, have mercy on me, I want to live, I need to live."

      You don't need to live, you want to live.

      The words, unspoken, caught her off guard as he stared at the woman. What was it about the slut that interested him, that triggered such a deep reaction in him? He'd never known himself to react like this before, not around a slave. 

      "Master, please, have mercy."

      Mercy was for the weak, but there were times when a plea for mercy was really a plea to be used. Didn't the slut realize that death was obviously a release, a way out from the life he offered her? Or was she so afraid of death that she'd do anything just as long as it meant a few more pathetic hours of life?

      "I'm yours master, yours, completely and utterly, I'll do whatever you want." Tears seeped down her pale cheeks, her full lips parted as she reached out to him, pleading with words and body alike. "No matter what you want from me, I'll give it, do it, sacrifice my humanity for you, should you demand it of me, master."

      "Strip the humanity from you, intriguing," he mused, letting his gaze linger on the slave. Turn her into what, though? An animal of some sort, obviously. But what? The idea had possibilities, all thought of her lips around his cock vanished with the wave of new ideas. New perversions to inflict on the naked young woman.

      Oh, there were possibilities. Ones he had contemplated before, and now with the slave at his feet, he had the chance to do whatever he wished. Whenever he wished.

      Why hadn't he viewed it that way before?

      It doesn't matter.

      The crack of a whip against human flesh rang out through the courtyard, a scream mingling with the harsh sound, both combing to draw his attention. His gaze narrowed on the scene below. A woman, tied to a whipping post, sobbed in terror and pain, writhing, moving, and trying to avoid the next possible blow. It didn't work. Her wrists were locked in chains, chains that held her to the pole. Her body stretched out, her toes barely touching the ground. 

      Beautiful, truly beautiful.

      Jeanie wasn't the only one who even now put the slaves through their paces. One had been bound over a wooden box, and even now serviced a man with her ass. His cock thrust in and out of her tight backside. Each thrust tore a sob of pain and humiliation from the woman.

      Another was bound spread eagled, hot wax dripping onto her breasts. She writhed beneath the caress of the hot wax. She whimpered with each new application of hot wax, moving beneath the light, painful touch. If she thought this was bad, when the wax was removed she'd be a wreck. Especially as the one using her preferred to remove wax with a whip.

      He smiled. The other's had learned well, and so they should, he'd offered no mercy to those who wished to join the ranks of the Inquisition, and those who refused to learn then paid for it. There had been a few who had not made the cut. They'd become slaves themselves. Sold off to the highest bidder, keeping men as slaves when they were on the road was foolish.

      Not only foolish, but dangerous. They might try and break free. Encourage an uprising or something of that nature. He'd known of other groups that had been all but destroyed by such a thing. No, male slaves, except in very rare circumstances, were not a part of his life. Just as female Inquisitors were a rarity. Women were, by and large, not made to be in charge, not made to be dominant. 

      They had bodies designed for use and abuse. Sweet cunts to fill, fuck and assholes to sodomize. Nipples that could be pierced. Mouths to fill with cocks, or gags, or both. They weren't as strong as men. They couldn't wrestle a slave to the floor if the slave disobeyed, so couldn't be trusted to be in charge of a slave.

      No, better to keep women where they belonged. On their knees.

      In the right hands a slave could become a thing of true beauty. And the woman was starting to move as if she had become a work of art. Tears seeped down the whipped woman's cheeks, her back well marked from the whip. 

      The black robed Inquisitor who held the whip, laughed, her hood tossed back from her face. Jeanie. Ah, the exception to the rule. Her full red lips beckoned his attention, how often had he felt them on his body? Heat flushed through his being, tightening his cock, sending a throb of anticipation through his sack and erection alike. 

      The slave at his feet fell silent. Good, at least she's learned to read me. It was a start. Perhaps she was worth keeping after all. Especially if he trained her as a beast.

      But what type?

      The whip snapped through the air, opening up a long welt on the woman's back. Her scream pierced the growing noise, clear and precise.

      "Beautiful, she knows how to work the whip," he murmured. He could have watched Jeanie all day, but there were other things to do. Matters to attend to. The slave, for instance. What to do with her.

      He glanced down at her, and smiled, flipping his robe back into place over his cock. "Perhaps I should put you to use pulling a cart? At least I'd get some work out of you."

      "Master?" She looked up and blinked, realization spilling into her eyes. "Yes, master. I'll be whatever you want. A beast of burden. Pulling a cart. Pulling a buggy. Performing for you. Prancing. Dancing. Tell me what you want of me, and I'll do it. I'm begging you master, just give me a chance to please you."

      The idea grew with each passing moment, and he wouldn't be the first to do this, he'd heard of others playing this game with slaves ??" but it wouldn't be a game. Not this time. 

      "You should be careful what you beg for, slut," he reached out and cupped her chin. "Sometimes it will happen. You asked to be turned into an animal, and that is what will happen to you. From this moment onward you are a beast, an animal, a pony to be trained as such."

      She opened her mouth to protest, fear flashing across her eyes.

      Mistake number one. Stupid bitch needs to learn.

      Veron lashed out, snapping his hand across her face with enough force to send her sprawling across the floor. Blood seeped from her broken bottom lip, her cheek red from the blow as she looked up at him, terror burning within her gaze. 

      "Animals do not speak, nod if you understand, beast. They make noises, whimpers, whinnies, they don't speak"

      She nodded, tears flowing from her wide eyes. She understood, she didn't like it but it was clear she understood.

      "Good, very good. Hands behind your back, crossed at the wrists." He looked around, knowing he would need a little help at first. Obviously not Jeanie, she was busy with the collared female bound to the whipping post, so ??" who? His gaze eased over the area, taking in the other cloaked and robe wearing figures. Mostly men. All but Jeanie were men except for the slaves. Someone moved toward him. He'd do. "You, over here!"

      "My lord, did you require some assistance?"  Dressed in the same hooded black robes as the rest of the Inquisitors, the young man wouldn't have stood out from his number but for one thing. A deep scar that sliced through his left cheek.

      "Yes, cuffs, a bit gag and leather hood. Leading reigns as well. I have plans for this ??" this female," he nodded to the waiting, trembling woman. "Plans I am certain she's looking forward to experiencing. Slaves instinctively wish to please their masters, or so I've discovered."

      "Yes, my lord ??" they sound like interesting plans..." The man frowned for a moment, and then looked at the slave again.

      "You'll learn more when you return with what I need." Veron gestured and sent the scared faced young man away. What was his name anyway? Veron frowned, he knew each and every member of the Inquisitors, yet the one with the scar normally kept to himself. Silence...yes, that was what the other's had called him. Silence.

      Unusual, but the name suited him. He wasn't the type who talked much, unless he wanted to know what was going on. Well, at least something had attracted his attention, how long that would last, he neither knew, nor cared.

      The beast at his feet whimpered in sheer terror.

      "Silence, whore, or I'll give you something to whimper about."

      The female beast flattened against the floor, but at least she was now quiet. There were times when the constant whimpering ceased to be pleasing and crossed into the realms of annoyance, such as now.

      Slaves, they required more work than most would ever imagine. They were odd creatures, so very odd, still he'd train her. It would be enjoyable. Seeing her become a wanton, willing slave, would be a pleasure.

      "My Lord?" Silence returned, holding a basket of equipment, his gaze playing over the nude woman. "Did you require anything else? Perhaps a longer whip?"

      "Not at this time, Silence."

      "May I watch? I believe it might be enjoyable. Slaves broken, trained, beaten, such can be educational to one such as I." His voice lacked emotion.

      "As long as that's all you do, I'm in no mood to be distracted." He took the basket and turned his attention to the woman once more. "Stand up, your back to me, wrists crossed behind you, slut. Quickly whore!"

      She moved, quickly, pushing to her feet as she did so, and crossed her wrists as he ordered her to. He locked the metal cuffs in place about her wrists, the three short links of chain between the cuffs barely enough to allow her to move. 

      "Open your mouth, slave." He picked up the metal bit from the basket. It wouldn't be comfortable to wear, but it wasn't meant to be. "Now, slave. It's time you began your journey into your new life. One I am certain you will not enjoy. Not at first."

      Her eyes widened, her gaze fixed on the bit. Terror coated her flesh in beads of visible sweat. Her breathing hitched and she took a step back, and then halted. Slowly she parted her lips, surrendering to what would happen to her. His cock twitched beneath his robe, full, thick with the need to bury it within a warm and willing body. Hers, or someone else's, it didn't matter. They were bodies, not people, not worthy of consideration. 

      He pushed the bit into her mouth and fastened it in place, preventing her from speaking. Good, animals didn't talk and the bit would enforce that on the she beast. He fastened the final buckle into place then stepped back looking at her. Her wrists were locked well and truly in place, and he smiled. Her long, black mane was loose down her back. That too could be tamed into place, trained, perhaps with ribbons at the end of the day.

      "Leading reigns, I need to attach those, so stand in place. Do not move, whore." He lifted the reigns from the basket and looked at her calmly. He attached them to either side of the bit gag. "Well now, what do you think, Silence?"

      "A pony girl, my Lord? Or did you have something else in mind?"

      "No, you're right, she's to be a pony girl. She's the start of one now, with a long way to go indeed. She needs to prance, perform, and train as a pony. Space, I need space to train her. Not something I have here."

      "Hm, perhaps it would be best waiting until we move, my Lord?"

      Veron growled, the stopped, perhaps he was right? "Indeed, perhaps you're right. Have her taken to the stables, we will be packing soon enough, won't we. Moving in the morning? Well, the slut can begin her training on the journey to the port." The ship would be waiting for them all, the ship to take them to the Island. 

      "As you wish, my Lord, I'll see to it immediately," Silence took hold of the leading reigns, and nodded his respect to the senior Inquisitor.

      "Take care of my filly, Silence. See no harm comes to her, is that clear enough to you?"

      "Yes, my lord. Completely."

      "Good, tis done then. Get her out of here."

      "Yes, my lord." Silence nodded and tugged on the leading reigns. "I'll see her bedded down."

      "And that's all you'll be doing with her. I don't want her training interfered with." He had plans for her, training plans. He needed to get this set in his mind. Careful plans. If he was right such training had to be tended to closely.

       The woman whimpered into the bit that semi blocked her mouth, but didn't fight as Silence led her away.