Chapter One

 

The naked woman elegantly held the glass of wine to Colonel Tiranul's lips, and once again I was forced to admire the Colonel's training methods. Although I personally didn't prefer women who had been so thoroughly broken, it wasn't difficult to appreciate the sensuality of the sex slave that sat on my own lap. The Colonel's hand squeezed and pinched his girl's breast hard, but I couldn't detect the slightest flinch or sign of complaint in her face as she presented the wine.

"You have done really well with this latest batch Colonel," I said, stroking the thigh of my girl. The Colonel liked to be called "Colonel" even though he was no longer in the Military. Rumours were that he used to be in the 265^th MP Battalion out of Bucharest but was thrown out for excessive brutality, but asking questions about him was an unhealthy pastime, so he could have been a baker in his past life for all I knew.

"Yes, I am very happy with them. My predecessor was a fool. Just taking the women that fell into his hands and selling them off to white slavers was both bad business and no fun at all. There are too many unemployed interrogators and torturers running around anyway, so I put them to good use training the girls into top class slaves. Now they sell for five times the price and I get some good playthings out of it too."

I turned my attention to the girl on my lap. "Are you a good plaything?"

"Oh yes master. I'm very good indeed. I'll do anything that you want, anything at all."

She seemed completely sincere to me, with no trace of hesitation or resistance. Without warning I rammed a finger deep into her pussy. She didn't even blink an eyelid and even smiled invitingly at me.

"Do you like my cunt master? Is it tight and wet enough for you?"

I dug around inside her cunt a bit more, looking thoughtful. "What if I said that it was as loose and dry as an 80 year old whore?"

"Then I would have failed to please Master and would deserve to be punished."

"What kind of punishment?" I asked. I felt the tiniest bit of tension in the girl's muscles, but she still looked eager and friendly as a puppy.

"The punishment for a first failure is a whipping on the tits with barbed wire Master."

"Wouldn't that kind of fuck up your tits?"

The Colonel chuckled. "We can afford very good plastic surgeons. Besides there are always customers who don't mind a few scars. And they're also the ones who seem to need new girls all the time." He grinned like a crocodile.

I patted my girl's rump. "Your pussy is just fine honey."

She sighed with relief and kissed me gratefully.

The Colonel stood up, dumping his girl on the floor. "Would you like to see the latest improvement to my facilities? Also, I had a new batch of girls come in just yesterday."

I was a little more considerate with my girl, who hopped off of my lap and scampered aside to let me get up. "By all means, Colonel. I've never actually seen your setup and I'd be interested to discover how you turn out quality products like these." I glanced at my girl to see if she reacted to being referred to like cattle, but she just smiled sweetly at me and wriggled her butt.

We drove west through Bucharest and about twelve kilometres out into the countryside towards Domnesti. Everything looked normal, like picture post cards from a tourist souvenir shop. Even I found it hard to believe that a completely separate underworld existed in almost plain view of everyone. The Colonel's limousine turned up a side road past several decrepit looking workshops and cheap housing units. People sat around along the road, not doing anything but drink beer. "Security?" I asked.

"Yes, impressive eh? They look like shit but I stole them from the army's anti-terrorist squad, trained in Germany."

The limousine reached the end of the road and stopped in front of a heavy, gleaming steel gate topped by equally shiny razor wire. There was a solid looking, concrete guard house squatting just beside it. The Colonel stepped out and entered the small structure, closing the door behind him. He re-appeared two minutes later and got back into the car. "Biometric identification system inside the guardhouse. Only works when the person is alone and the door closed. The guardhouse is lined with steel armour, reinforced with Kevlar."

"But wouldn't you be stuck in the guardhouse if you had enemies in or near the car?" I asked.

"I've installed one of those programmable frequency-agile battle field communications systems that you sold me in there so I can call for help. It also triggers two of the excellent new anti-tank mines that were part of that same shipment as the transmitters, which just happen to be buried in the road just about where the car is parked right now." He laughed at my uneasy expression. "What's the matter? Don't you trust your own products?"

"I trust the mines. I'm not so sure about the nenorocit of a technician who installed the triggering device."

The Colonel laughed. "I do. I made him stand over this spot while I banged on the control console with a rubber mallet."

The gate swung open on electric motors, and the limousine drove down the surprisingly well maintained road and up to what looked like an abandoned factory. This impression was dispelled as soon as I walked through the door. Electronic locks, video surveillance cameras and effective air conditioning complemented a modern, almost sterile looking facility. The two guards behind a bullet-proof screen were dressed in state of the art body armour and carried HK submachine guns. I followed the Colonel into a conference room that could have been located in any office building. Large plasma screen displays lined one wall and two naked girls waited by a wet bar to serve drinks and snacks. Seeing the Colonel ask for mineral water, I ordered lapte batut, a fermented milk drink. One of the girls quickly clipped on a tray that attached to her nipples and clit, accepted the chilled glass from her partner and very carefully walked up to me. The Colonel had obviously been reading too many trashy BDSM novels.

"Your drink sir," she said.

Just to be mean, I tapped the forward edge of the tray, which pushed on the rod that supported the tray, which in turn pushed on the crocodile clip which was attached to her clitoris.

The slave blinked and then smiled as if I had given her a tip. "Thank you for hurting my clitoris sir."

I was impressed and made sure that it showed in my expression.

The Colonel chuckled and picked up a remote control and clicked on the monitors. The first showed a prison-like corridor with closed metal doors and numbers over each one. "That's where we keep the new girls." The next monitor showed groups of naked girls being lectured, drilled and performing various tasks under the eye of uniformed instructors and guards. The Colonel turned off the sound from those two screens and then turned up the sound on the last one.

I saw the image was that of a single girl lying on a padded table, with her arms strapped over her head and her ankles attached to the bottom corners of the table. She appeared to be looking fearfully from side to side when she suddenly uttered a piercing shriek that made me jump. I saw the two girls in the room cringe and cover their ears.

The Colonel nodded at the screen. "Very fine needles pushed through the abdomen into the ovaries. Then a small current is run into them. Hurts like you wouldn't believe and no visible damage at all. Ask them," he said, pointing at the serving girls. Both girls had turned pale and their heads bobbed up and down fearfully.

"We use a combination of drugs, mental conditioning and simple pain. First we break them down using sleep deprivation, changing light cycles and totally random punishments. One trainer is assigned to each girl and she only gets to talk to that one person. During the first stage, he never hurts her and is always the one to come and stop the torture. Once the girls are judged to be in a receptive state, the trainer begins to show her little kindnesses, but always linked with acts of obedience from the girl. Then she is shown that by volunteering for much milder tortures and cooperating in her own torture, she can reduce the amount of random punishment that she receives. This does not make her into a masochist in the true sense of enjoying pain, but she gradually learns that her willingness to accept pain actually improves her life. It is a short step from there to seeing obedience and torture as a natural way of life. She is even allowed to trade minor tortures for luxuries such as chocolate or an uninterrupted period of sleep with the light off. All of this, along with the drugs, produces the product that you have seen. The programme is actually an adaptation of deep interrogation techniques used to brainwash spies that my people were taught at the schools the Americans set up."

"But how well does the conditioning hold up when the girl is actually being hurt?" I asked.

The Colonel grinned, showing even, white teeth. "I'm glad you asked. I was scheduled to do a quality test on one of the latest batch of graduates. Care to come along?"

I grinned back and said, "Lay on Macduff."

The quotation obviously went above the Colonel's head, as he just shrugged and headed for the door. I followed his expensively tailored back through the building and into a room with a door marked 'Quality Control'. The Colonel must have also hired a systems engineer along with the brainwashing experts.

I couldn't fault his interior designers though. The room was spartan but elegant, with steel and brown leather furniture and walls panelled with some kind of matt finished plastic. Lighting was provided by glowing panels on the ceilings, as well as various spotlights on flexible arms. Half of the room resembled a waiting room of an expensive engineering firm, and the other half looked like their workshop, with several sturdy work stands and benches, and racks of tools and equipment lining the walls. When we had seated ourselves, the Colonel pressed a button on the touch sensitive screen built in to his chair. There was a computer like 'ding' and a section of the wall slid open to admit a naked woman, presumably one of the Colonel's "finished products".

She was beautiful, just like all the rest, though a little top heavy for my tastes. She smiled brightly and came towards us with an eager spring in her stride, as if she were on her way to meet her boyfriend or Brad Pitt. She stopped about four feet in front of us and gave us a cute little wave. "Hi, I'm Patty and I'm here to make you happy."

The Colonel turned to me and said, "I don't insist on this Master rubbish. Sir will do just fine for me. The girls are taught to speak normally, so long as they are respectful. Of course they know all the right words just in case they are sold to one of those BDSM types - or an Arab." He looked back at Patty. "Kneel down and lick my boots."

Patty dropped to her knees and enthusiastically licked the Colonel's boots, looking as if she was eating ice cream instead. It was a good start, though not a very difficult one.

"Enough," said the Colonel, giving her a shove with his boot.

Patty fell on her side, but still smiled as she curled up seductively like a large cat.

"Get up here and suck my dick."

Patty sat up and ran her hands up the Colonel's thighs before very carefully unzipping his fly. She reached in and extracted his limp cock, which she eagerly sucked into her mouth. She slurped away with apparent relish, but with little success. I could have told her that she was wasting her time, as he only got hard when he was hurting someone, but I assumed that the Colonel knew what he was doing.

He nodded to himself as if ticking off an item on a mental checklist, and then he grabbed her by her hair and yanked her off of his dick. He knocked her back on the floor with a back handed slap to her face. "Useless cunt. Do you call that a blow job? My wife's mother could do a better job, and she's eighty-two."

The girl gave me a quick glance and then climbed back up to her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground. "I'm sorry sir. I'm doing my best."

"Hmm. Maybe your skills lie elsewhere."

"Please give me another chance sir. I really want to make you happy."

Of course, both I and Patty knew the Colonel was just setting her up for something unpleasant and both of us had to play along. I grinned and nodded at the Colonel's broad wink, while Patty waited patiently for whatever nastiness was coming her way.

The Colonel strutted over to the workshop side of the room and came back with an "L" shaped tonfa style policeman's baton, which he used as a pointer. "You, come over here and bend over with your ass facing me. Let's see how well trained your holes are." He held the baton by the perpendicular handle and tapped the long end of the baton in his palm.

Patty didn't seem at all alarmed by the prospect of being raped with a thick wooden shaft, which said a lot about the effectiveness of the training she had received. She obediently moved to the indicated spot and bent over with her hands on her knees. Without being told, she spread her feet wide apart. "Do you want me to spread my ass cheeks for you Sir?"

"Of course, you stupid bitch," grunted the Colonel. He placed the palm of his free hand on the small of her back and brought the shiny black tip of the baton up to her pussy. He jammed the rounded hardwood against her body and twisted the baton around roughly until the tip found its way into the opening of her vagina. The muscles of his arm rippled as he rammed the baton deep into her body and began to pump it in and out of her cunt as if he was trying to drive a hole through her body.

Patty yelped as the end of the baton thumped into her cervix, but didn't try to avoid the mechanical rape, although it was obvious that it was hurting her badly. I was really impressed, both by the Colonel's training methods and by Patty's fortitude, when she actually started fucking herself on the stick even as she whimpered in pain. "Oh yes, oh yes, that's so good, thank you Sir, fuck me harder Sir," she said with a low sexy voice, as if this was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her as she rotated her hips, grinding back at the punishing baton.

Without warning, the Colonel shifted his aim and the baton plunged into her arse hole and he continued pounding her without missing a beat.

The rape of her arse hole drew a high whining cry from Patty, but she quickly covered it up with a series of moans of pleasure. "I love being butt fucked. Your truncheon feels so good in my ass hole. Yes, pound me, rip me...." she said.

I could see streaks of blood on the baton and around her arse hole and Patty's face was turning pale, even though she gamely continued to fuck herself on the wooden cock. I pointed at the blood and said, "Colonel, I think you're damaging the goods."

His head turned towards me in surprise and then he looked down at Patty's arse hole. "Ha, always the businessman Eric. You're right. Mustn't ruin the goods." The baton came out Patty's arse hole with a plop and he took a quick look at her condition. "You'll be fine. Go see Doctor Butcher when you're done here."

Patty gave me a grateful look and straightened up. "Yes Sir. Thank you for fucking me with that baton Sir."

The Colonel went back to the work bench, and tossed the baton in to large plastic basket marked "For Sterilization". Apparently he wasn't as oblivious to the well-being of his girls as he pretended to be, which raised the possibility that he was out to test me. The question was, why?

He slapped Patty on the backside and laughed. "So, Eric, what do you think of my product, eh?"

I gave her breast a pat and grinned. "Very impressive. I'm sure that your competitors will be green with envy."

He put his arm around my shoulder. "You know that I value your opinion my friend. You and I, we have done much good business together. You would never betray me would you?"

It took a moment for his words to sink in. "What..." My voice trailed off when I saw the gun in his other hand. I stood very still and frantically tried to figure out what the Colonel was talking about. "Why would I betray you? You're one of my best customers." I could feel the tension in his arm that held me clasped tightly to him.

Then he grinned. "No, of course not. You are my good and faithful friend."

The muzzle of his pistol turned away from me and I sighed with relief.

Then the grin disappeared. "Unlike the spy that the German Bundeskriminalamt tried to plant on me, eh Patty?"

Patty went pale and trembled as she shook her head. "I don't understand Sir; I'm Swiss, not German."

The sound made by the HK MK23 pistol was deafening in the windowless room, especially as the Colonel put three bullets into the woman's body. One round penetrated through and through and made a mess on the wall behind her as she staggered and fell. He held up the pistol and waved the muzzle in front of my face. "I love these. Can you get any more?"

I shook my head and gently pushed the pistol away. I could feel the warmth of the muzzle on my palm. "Nope. That came from a shipment meant for the US Special Forces that was diverted by one of my suppliers. That's why you have the silencers and laser sights, which civilians can't buy from HK." I pointed at the crumpled body of poor Patty. "Was she really BKA?"

He shrugged. "My people were pretty sure. At first I thought of just putting her through the system. It would have been funny to have a policewoman sucking dick in a brothel somewhere. But there was always the risk that she might escape or be rescued. This way, I just waste some money and the time of my trainers."

"The next time warn me in advance. All that drama is bad for my nerves. Also, use the damn silencers. You'll go deaf if you keep doing that."

"Ha! Next time I let you kill her, OK?"

"Executions cost extra," I said sourly.

For some reason he found that really funny and he was still chuckling as we went on to the next stage of the tour. He walked me through the training areas, pointing out the various conditioning techniques. We didn't linger as all the screaming was hard on the ears, especially as my ears were still ringing from the gunfire. For some reason, the Colonel seemed eager to get to the holding pens, and bounced up and down like a boy waiting to open his birthday presents.

When he gets excited, I get worried. The cells were like standard prison units or maybe those for the criminally insane, with concrete walls and solid steel doors which were padded on the inside. Each door had a peep hole and a frame which held a card with the occupant's name and other details. Most of the cells were quiet with the girls out for training, recovering from training or just too scared to make trouble. A few were kicking and screaming, and when I looked at the cards I saw they were mostly the new arrivals, who had not yet learned that any attention from their captors was likely to be painful.

The Colonel stopped in front of one of the cells, grinning from ear to ear. "Take a look," he said.

I suddenly realised that this was what the whole day had been about, so I made sure that I looked interested as I put my eye to the cold chrome rim around the peep hole. After a second, I didn't have to fake my interest. The occupant was more than worth a second look. She was just my type - tall, slim, athletic, with strong features and large brown eyes. She looked frightened, which was understandable given the circumstances, but there was still anger in those eyes. She paced around the limited space of her cell, wearing the standard grey T-shirt and trousers with an elasticated waistband, with the simple white slip on shoes that were given to all the Colonel's 'trainees'. One of the features of the holding cells was a live audio feed of the some of the highlights of the training sessions being held in the other part of the building, which mostly meant loud, terrified screaming. I noted that the woman winced at the screams but didn't cringe as many of the other girls had done. Reluctantly, I pulled my eye away from the peep hole and tried to look indifferent, but the gleam in the Colonel's eye told me that I wasn't very successful. "Very nice," I said. I glanced at the card on the door. Her name was Aurora Parker and it said that she was wanted by the Police for drug smuggling and serious assault on a Police officer. That was bad. If the Police got her she would probably have an accident during the arrest and never make it to the station.

"How would you like to have her?"

This offer took me aback, and I chose my words carefully in order not to give offence. "That's most generous Colonel, but you know that I prefer my women with a bit more fight in them."

The Colonel grinned. "I know you better than you think Eric. What if I could arrange it so that she would willingly go to you without needing to put her through the full training course?"

I grinned back and said, "I should have known that you had a plan in mind. What are you proposing?"

"How would you like to be a knight in not so shining armour?"