Chapter 1

 

She was led into the room by means of the chain attached to the tight collar around her neck. She paused, afraid, but a sharp tug on the chain pulled her into the room, thick with cigar smoke and loud, manly laughs. There were so many of them - all wearing expensive suits and holding large brandy glasses. Two leant against either side of the wide fireplace, their elbows resting on the mantle. Both were holding court over their own small group. Other groups were dotted around - some pairs or trios, others more than five or six in number.

She was led into the centre of the room where a frame had been placed to take her. Built to match her exact height and stature, the strong cuffs that encased her arms from wrist to elbow were a perfect fit, holding her arms stretched wide apart above her head. Similar cuffs encased her from ankle to knee and so she was held firmly - standing within the frame. Held firmly but not fixed. By means of numerous hinges and locking points, the frame could be bent, twisted and re-angled to any position available to the human body - especially one as supple as hers. By means of the ingenious device, each and every man there would be able to take pleasure from her in any way that he chose - and by the end of the evening, each of them would.

The first to approach was her Master. He shed his clothes without shame or coyness despite the numerous pairs of eyes that watched his every move. Once naked, he moved closer to the frame.

He began by adjusting the tilt of the frame so that he could thrust between her lips and groan as her experienced and well-trained tongue roved along his length. When he had enough of her mouth, he kept her tilted head down towards the floor, as he moved between her legs and thrust into her pussy. Her opening clenched around him as she gasped against the uninvited entry. He thundered his cock into her for several minutes, his sweat mingling with hers to ripple down her slanted back and drench her hair. He pulled from her after several minutes and raised the frame to its original position. Then - as she stood within the frame - he rammed into her anus, his hands clenching her breasts as he thrust upwards. He rode her with all his might, shaking the frame with the power of his mounting. And as he climaxed his fingernails scoured the skin of her breasts, leaving four deep scratches across each sensitive mound. Then - still buried deep inside her anus - his hands moved down to the tidy, trimmed pubic hair. Delving lower, his fingers found her clitoris and as he plied the sensitive flesh she groaned as her body awakened to the pleasurable sensations.

Her body began to shake with the effort of resisting his delicious touch, tears coursing down her cheeks as she battled him and herself. But then her climax splattered her inner thighs and the carpet below, her Master pulled free of her - his ownership clearly stamped on every orgasmic shiver of her sweat soaked skin.

By the time the shivers had eased sufficiently for her to be aware of her surroundings once more the frame had already been adjusted. She was laid out on her back and the young man - who had been lucky enough to draw the Number 1 in the Over Dinner Raffle - stepped between her legs, ordering that the frame be adjusted to spread her legs wider. The assistants did so - eager to please with the hope that they would have their chance with her much later when the Gentlemen had finished.

He presented his throbbing penis to her pussy, easing the tip in and then ramming his length home. His nails found her thighs and pinched at the sensitive flesh. And so, for a few minutes, he became her Master and abused her as he saw fit. But like all the others, who would follow him one by one, he never forgot who her real Master was. The memory of his expert manipulation of her would remain firmly fixed in all their visions - such sights just made their own pleasure all the sweeter.

The evening passed in a hurricane of sensual stimulation as her body was manipulated and tormented for their pleasure. No part of her was spared - her outer skin made raw by numerous lashes of belts, whips and crops. The sensitive openings of her vagina and anus, soaked with spent semen and salvia, battered and bruised. Her lips, cracked and dry, her gums swollen and her throat rubbed raw by the cocks that had thrust deep into her mouth.

And when the Gentlemen had retired, the assistants who had diligently adjusted the frame for every Master's whim now collected their payment from her unresisting body. She hardly felt their cocks thumping into her with lust filled synchronicity. Her head hung forward and they neither wondered nor cared if she felt their fucking. They spent their juices together, pulling back to jet their seed at her filthy, stinging skin - she hardly noticed.

Drifting in near exhaustion, she only noticed a presence when cool air wafted over her cheek. She would have stayed in near-consciousness were it not for the scent that assailed her nostrils and sent her heart thumping.

 

 

Her eyes flickered open.

'Natalie?' she whispered.

The blonde angel smiled softly, the blue eyes seemed to close around her like a cloak. But there was sadness in those eyes and she felt fresh tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

'I came but you had already been taken ... I didn't know that he would betray me.' Mel whispered with a sadness that threatened to tear her heart in half. 'But I swear, I'll make it right. I don't care what it takes, what I have to do ... I will find you. Just hang on ... don't surrender to them.'

There was no response from the blue eyes that reflected Mel's pain and sadness right back at her.

'Natalie ... please, don't surrender to the darkness.'

The eyes never changed, not even as they started to fade.

'Natalie?'

There was no response, there was only the darkness. Biting back a sob, Mel threw the covers back and climbed off the sofa. She turned towards the bed, a groan drawing her attention. The dark haired woman, Claudia, mumbled something in her sleep before she settled once more.

Turning from the woman, Mel approached the dark window. The night beyond was dark and unwelcoming, the moon shining over a frozen, alien part of the world.

Mel stared out at the darkness, perhaps searching for the light that she now only found in haunted dreams. But it was only the night that greeted her, even though she knew that somewhere, out there, her light remained. She had only hope that Natalie was still alive and that her lover had not already succumbed to the darkness that Mel had tried so desperately to save them from. She had only hope - hope and her love for the slave who had offered her snatched moments of peace. But that was enough to make Mel ready to venture back into the darkness - to risk everything for Natalie, the woman that she loved and desired above all else. She would risk all just to hold Natalie again, to be with her. She dreamt of that moment and longed its coming ...

... but for now she had only the night and the darkness ...

 

Chapter 2

 

The darkness was snatched from her eyes and her vision was painfully invaded by harsh light. She squinted, her eyes watering.

'Open your eyes.'

The light that was shone directly into her face made it impossible to comply.

'I said open your eyes!'

The command was given alongside a harsh slap to the face that rocked her head sideways. She would have stumbled had her wrists not been chained high above her head, leaving her naked body hanging in the centre of the room, a few inches above the floor.

The light was tipped downwards slightly and she managed to open her eyes a little wider. They were bright blue and shone like shimmering pools behind her stinging tears.

'Show your teeth.'

She ignored the command.

'Damn it, slave!' Harsh fingers pinched at her jaw, forcing her mouth open. She considered biting down on the fingertips that ran over her teeth but decided against it. The man who examined her teeth perhaps sensed her considerations and quickly snatched his hand away.

'She didn't look so defiant in the photographs.' the voice behind the light announced, his accent clearly Russian.

'Are you getting weak in your old age, Strick?' An American accent this time and a voice that was fairly familiar, although he had never spoken to her directly.

The Russian ignored him, instead he spoke to a third man in his native tongue.

The man who had been examining her ran his fingers over her breast, stroking the sensitive flesh. The rosy bud of her nipple slowly rose to a firm point. 'Da.' he announced as his fingers gripped her nipple, pinching harshly. Her groan was more than just discomfort as her nipple swelled within the fleshy vice. He laughed, nodding excitedly, 'Da, da.'

Some further words were spoken in Russian and then Strick spoke in clear English, 'Beat her!'

His Russian companion wasted no time. He slipped a riding crop from the belt of his trousers and took a step back.

She tensed, awaiting the first blow.

It landed - full force - across her breasts. She gasped, convulsing beneath the blow as tiny speckles of freezing sweat appeared on her brow. Instantly a white line sat atop a ridge of red that stretched across her breasts about half way. The next blow was landed lower down her breasts and the third lower still, an inch or less above her nipples.

The Russian was an excellent marksman and as an experienced slave she knew exactly where the next blow would land. The anticipation only heightened the terrible sting as the crop sliced across her hardened nipples. She gasped loudly, her eyes filling with tears again. The crop landed just beneath her nipples and she bit her lip, desperate not to cry out. Burning lines seared her upper ribs, then solar plexus, hipbones and then the front of her thighs. Her body began to twist with each blow that followed, blows aimed at the front of her thighs caught her sides and the edges of her buttocks. Her breasts would take most of the punishment but her armpits and upper side also suffered as she moved.

'She's all stripy,' the American giggled.

Despite the stinging pain, she glared at him, annoyed by his infantile humour. The Russian seemed equally unimpressed and barked another order in Russian.

The man cast the crop aside and quickly lowered his trousers to his knees. Kicking her legs apart, he positioned himself and then rammed his cock harshly into her pussy. She bucked at the intrusion, gasping painfully. He rammed his rigid penis into her, groaning as he forced his way into her opening over and over again.

After several minutes of his harsh thrusting, he glanced over his shoulder and said something in Russian.

'What'd he say?' the American asked.

Strick didn't take his eyes off the slave as he answered, 'He says that she is getting wet.'

'What does that mean?'

Strick's eyes narrowed. 'It means that there is more to this slave than meets the eye.'

'Hey, what you see is what you get, man. I know she's a little defiant but you can break her of that, can't you?' It was more of a statement than a question.

'I guess that we'll see.'

'Well, just as long as you remember that I don't do refunds.' The American hesitated for a moment before he asked, 'So, you gonna take her?'

'Yes.'

The American seemed a little surprised by the answer but recovered quickly. 'Payment in the usual way?'

'Of course.'

The American beamed, his eyes shifting greedily between Strick and the slave.

'Where are you going?' Strick asked as the American headed for the door.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder as the other Russian, Kristoff, grunted and thrust deep into the slave. 'I have other things to attend to.' Absent-mindedly he rubbed the hard bulge in his trousers as he pulled the door open and stepped out into the corridor.

As the door clicked closed, Kristoff pulled himself free of the slave and turned towards Strick.

Strick waved with his hand and his companion unchained the slave's manacled wrists while Strick bent to retrieve the discarded crop.

'Has she come yet?' Strick asked in Russian as he handed the crop to Kristoff.

He shook his head, taking the crop and then forcing the slave down onto all fours.

'Then she is as defiant of her own pleasure as she is of us.'

'She is strong.'

'Let us see how strong she is.' Strick announced, bending to thrust his fingers into the slippery, wide hole of her vagina. She shivered involuntarily as he scooped the spent semen from her and smeared the juice around the opening of her anus. He stood up and lowered his trousers before kneeling between her legs.

'What did the Yank say her name was?' Strick asked.

Kristoff raised the crop to shoulder height. 'Natalie.' he replied.

Strick gave a small nod. 'A good Russian name.' he announced and thrust forward as Kristoff brought the crop down across her shoulder blades.

Natalie threw her head back and screamed as spent semen mixed with her own musky juice that squirted from her spasming pussy.