The Collectors Estate

Part Three - Group One Processing

The Collectors Estate

The next day

9:00AM

Three unmarked black semi trucks backed into a depressed loading area at the rear basement entrance of the castle. The trucks had just arrived from the recruiting mission at the Convention Center in Houston. The drive did not take fifteen hours, but the drivers had been given explicit instructions to take his time and to spend the night on the road. The trucks were not expected until nine in the morning the following day, so the drivers understood that they should not arrive until nine in the morning the following day.

And now it was nine o'clock in the morning the day after the Convention Center had been used to recruit new guests for the Collectors. The trucks had backed into the loading area almost the second the clock turned nine. The big rubber wheels ground to a halt and the steel frames of the rear of the trailers came to rest against the cushioned rubber of the loading dock doors. The trucks were turned off and the drivers proceeded inside to have their cargo signed for and to receive their payment. Likely, these drivers would receive another job at that time as well. The recruitment process was just beginning. More guests were expected from other locations over the next week or so and the demand for good, reliable, trustworthy workers was high. The fact that the money the Collectors paid was exceptional was an added bonus. Not one of these drivers would ever open their mouths about the nature of their cargo, their point of origin or their destination. The possibility of future business at the rate the Collectors were paying was far too great.

Inside the loading area, six work slaves, male volunteers dressed in white t-shirts and blue jeans, opened the large rolling door at the rear of each semi trailer. Each door was also under the direct scrutiny of two mercenaries armed with sub-machine guns. As soon as the doors were opened, the loading area filled with the smell of urine, as many of the women had not been able to hold their bladders for the duration of the trip. That was exactly what Jonathan Clark had wanted. He'd wanted the degradation of these women to begin even before they arrived at the castle.

As the doors were opened, the men in the loading area could see that the women in each trailer had huddled together toward the front of the trailer, likely for warmth and support. The day might have been warm, but very likely the night in the back of a cold steel trailer was not pleasant. As the doors opened, the women blinked in the new light, each trying to adjust their eyes and take in their new surroundings.

Almost as one, the women looked around. They each looked from the work slaves, to the men with machine guns behind them to the concrete floor and the cold, grey stone walls. Some of them moaned; to these women, it seemed as if the open doors of the trucks led into a dungeon. These women would have been right, or nearly so anyway. To others, the room combined some vestiges of historical architecture with modern technology like the lighting and the loading equipment. To others still, the room was hell and all the men in it were demons and devils. The sense of hopelessness from each woman was nearly palpable.

One of the work slaves had walked to the rear of the room, to a telephone mounted on the wall near a large, grey aluminum door that slid upward and rolled into a grey cylinder above the door itself. The work slave pressed a button and waited for a second.

"Mr. Clark?" the slave asked. After a second, he continued, "You asked to be notified when the trucks from Houston were ready to be processed. The cargo is waiting for you now, sir."

After a brief pause, the work slave said into the phone, "Yes sir." After hanging up, he turned to the other work slaves in the room and said in a louder voice, "Get them out. Mr. Clark will be down shortly."

Each work slave, including the one that had been talking on the phone, picked up a long, yellow cattle prod from a small red rack near the open loading bay doors. As one, the women looked at the metal tips of the cattle prods, each female body tensed in anticipation of the pain.

"All of you, get out of the trucks," the work slave that had been on the phone shouted so that each woman in each truck could hear. "Walk forward into the loading area and kneel on the floor and wait to be processed. If you do not comply, you will force us to hurt you."

For a brief moment, no one in the trailers moved. Then, one by one, women began to silently come forward, stepping through puddles of cold urine and onto the rough, chilly concrete floor of the loading area. After several moments, the floor of the loading area was nearly full of kneeling naked women looking anxiously from the cattle prods to the machine guns to the aluminum door, wondering who was coming for them.

To no one's surprise, a few women had remained in the trailers; holdouts to the end, it seemed. With deep sighs of annoyance, the works slaves charged their cattle prods and walked into the trailers. After several seconds, ominous buzzes could be heard from inside each trailer, followed by shrieks and screams of pain from several of the women within the trailers. Shortly thereafter, many of the women that had remained inside the trailers rushed forward to kneel on the floor of the loading area with the rest of the women.

Still, there were two women that were completely reluctant to come forward. One was marked with an X and the other with an S. Despite repeated jabs with the cattle prods, both women refused to move out of the trailers. One of the work slaves trying to motivate the woman marked with an X made a motion to one of the mercenaries. The mercenary raised his gun and a red dot appeared on the woman's chest. She saw the dot on her skin and looked out into the room to see what was making it. She saw the gun pointed at her and tried to protest, but the mercenary raised the barrel of the gun slightly higher and squeezed the trigger lightly. All that was heard among the cries of the woman marked with an S still being prodded in the other trailer, was a light puff and then the heavy thud of a body falling to the floor of the trailer.

Many of the women on the floor of the loading area whimpered, a few shrieked, but not one of them tried to run. It seemed they had learned very quickly the price of reticence and disobedience.

Meanwhile, in the trailer of the other truck, the woman marked with an S had flung herself onto the floor of the truck and had grabbed a small iron ring set in the floor of the truck used to secure cargo ties. She clung to the ring for dear life, despite the now four work slaves standing over her and shocking her with their cattle prods. The woman was nearly covered in sweat and her blonde hair clung to her face like wet spider's webbing. Eventually, one of the work slaves took the woman by her hair and began to pull her head upward. She screamed out at him and when she did, another work slave touched his prod briefly to her tongue.

That was all it took. She let go of the ring immediately and clutched at her numb mouth and blistered tongue. The work slave holding her hair dragged her from the trailer, through the cold urine on the floor of the trailer and out onto the floor of the loading area. The work slave set the woman upright on her knees and left her there with all the other women.

The two work slaves dragged the body of the dead woman deliberately and slowly through room so that each woman could see what happened to those that remained difficult. The women, almost as one, watched the slaves drag the body of the poor woman who had been shot across the room and through a door into another stone hallway. The door closed just as Jonathan Clark entered the room.

Walking next to Jonathan Clark was a lovely-looking blonde woman. She stood about six feet tall and wore a short, but professional business skirt outfit. Curled in one of her arms was a clipboard, one of the metal ones that could be opened and documents kept inside it. On the other side of Jonathan Clark was another man. He was short and somewhat stocky with red hair and expensive glasses. He, too, was dressed very professionally. In fact, all of the people that had entered the room looked as if they's just been to a business meeting. They looked imposing, but also distinctly out of place in this setting.

There was a small, blue receiving desk stationed near the rolling aluminum door and it was in front of this that Jonathan Clark stood. The blonde woman had moved behind the desk and sat down, and the red-haired man moved into the loading area, looking over each woman as an insurance adjuster looks over a wrecked car.

"Greetings," Jonathan Clark said, smiling. All eyes were on him; every naked, kneeling woman in the room hanging on his every word as if their lives depended on them. "You are all probably wondering why you are here. You are here, because each of you has a purpose to serve here." He walked forward and looked down at the woman kneeling nearest to him.

"You see," he began again, looking directly at the women in front of him, but speaking to everyone in the room. "It might not seem like it yet, but all your lives changed the second each of you stepped out of those trailers."

Jonathan Clark moved to the next kneeling woman on the floor and looked down at her while continuing to speak. "From now on, each of you will serve those of us that have built and put together this lovely castle and this organization. You will serve us however we see fit," A groan escaped the mouths of many of the women on the floor. Jonathan Clark continued, undeterred. "You will serve us however we see fit, and if you are disobedient, or if any of you become displeasing, we will kill you." At those last words, several of the women broke down into tears.

"Your lives mean nothing to us," Jonathan Clark continued. "Each of you is replaceable, each of you is completely expendable, and every one of your lives now belong to us. The sooner you all accept your new situation and your new surroundings, the easier your time will be here. Many of you will find out that death is not the worst that can happen to you. Act unpleasantly enough and you will learn what it means to wish you were dead. As I said before, if you are disobedient or displeasing we will kill you, but how we do it and how much time we take doing it are other matters entirely."

He turned and walked back to the blue receiving desk near the aluminum door. He turned back toward the women and said, "We will now take a count to determine how many of you made it here. I would ask that each of you remain very still and not to move until you are again told to do so. Stephen?"

The red-haired man that had been appraising the women began to count heads. The women were all still and quiet, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to themselves. After several moments, the man finished his silent count and turned to the blonde woman behind the desk.

"Two hundred eighty-seven," he said.

"Out of three hundred thirteen. That's not bad," Jonathan Clark said. Then to the blonde woman he said, "Call for escorts, please."

The woman picked up the phone and dialed a number. She spoke briefly to someone and said to Jonathan Clark, "They will be here shortly." Her voice was smooth, silky, and almost caressed and made love to your ears to hear it.

"Thank you," Jonathan Clark said. He turned back tot he women and said, "I understand that two of you were not member of the convention, but were taken from concession areas at the center where we procured you all. Which two are you?"

Slowly, unsteadily, two hands made their way into the air.

"Stand up and come forward," he commanded. The girls quickly complied, looking nervously at the men with machine guns. Soon, they stood before Jonathan Clark's impressive frame. "An A and a B?" He looked them over closely, he took one of the girls' head in his hands and turned it side to side, examining her ears and the shape of her jaw. Both girls were brunette; one wore her hair long and down her back nearly to her hips and the other wore her hair shorter, just past her shoulders. Neither girl's nether regions were shaved and each had a red circle on their navels indicating a piercing.

"You two were unexpected pleasures," he said to the girls. "Normally, we wouldn't take any member of the staff, but one of the men must have seen something in the two of you. I cannot help bu to agree with their decision to keep you two. The both of you indeed belong here." He indicated two large plastic cages of the type normally used to transport large breed dogs. The doors to each cage were open and a small woolen blanket was folded on the floor of each cage. "Each of you get into a cage. You will be escorted to your first assignment shortly."

Looking at him and then nervously at one another, the two girls, who were in fact sisters, walked to the cages and each crawled into one of them. They wrapped themselves in the small blankets as a work slave came forward and closed the cage doors and locked the girls inside.

"The rest of you stand up," Jonathan Clark ordered. One by one, the women stood, except for the blonde whose tongue had been blistered by a cattle prod for her earlier reticence. She remained sitting on the floor, looking furious.

"You will all form a single line at the door over there." He pointed to the door through which the dead woman's body had been taken. "Some people will be here shortly to escort you to the processing area."

All of the women, except the seated blonde, moved toward the door previously indicated. Jonathan Clark noticed the woman and moved to stand directly in front of her. He noted the many electrical burns on her body from the cattle prods set at maximum charge.

"Do you have a problem with the instruction you were given?" he asked the seated woman.

"Yes I do," she said, her words slightly distorted by her swollen tongue. "I have a problem with being kidnaped, I have a problem with being held naked in a cold trailer with dozens of other women I don't even know, I have a problem with being tortured by men with cattle prods and held at gunpoint, and I have a big fucking problem with you trying to boss me like you're the god of everything." She looked away from him and gave a short huff.

"I see," Jonathan Clark said. He looked at the letter on her forehead and then to her body and her endowments. "An S-class. I'm very sorry to hear you feel that way."

"Yeah? Well so what?" She said angrily. "This is all bullshit anyway. You have to know you can't possibly get away with any of this. The police are no doubt looking for us already. How long do you think it's going to take them to figure out where we are?"

"Such a wicked tongue," Jonathan Clark said, not answering the woman's question. "And such a poor demeanor." He clucked his tongue at the woman. "Such a shame," he said almost regretfully. "Oh well. What's done is done."

He motioned to two of the work slaves, who immediately forward to receive his instructions. "Take her to processing and washing and then take her to tower number one. If she gives you any trouble, sedate her."

"Yes sir," the two work slaves responded, immediately dragging the woman ungraciously to her feet and practically carrying her out the door. She screamed profanities and threats the entire way and could still be heard even after the door was closed.

Shortly, twenty naked female slave entered the loading area through the aluminum door. They approached the door near which the new arrivals were lined up. One of them opened the door and bade the women to follow her through the doorway. Several more men with guns had also arrived in the room. Wordlessly, the women followed the naked slave through the door. They were accompanied by the remainder of the naked slave girls and the mercenaries that had been keeping a close eye on them at all times.

As soon as the door closed, the blonde woman stood up joyously."Two hundred eighty-seven!" She exclaimed ecstatically. "Can you believe that? I can't believe we got so many."

"I know what you mean, "Jonathan Clark said. "I nearly fell over when I saw how many were in the room."

The man with red hair, Stephen Harrison, approached them and said, "The members will certainly be pleased with this. There were some concerns that we would not be able to procure a significant number of recruits without violence and excessive losses."

"That was my concern as well," Jonathan said. "Who would have known we could have gotten so many? If we get these results from all our recruiting missions, we're going to have to cut our scheduling by two-thirds."

"Agreed," the blonde woman, Josephine Hancock, said. "This is a significant number of recruits. If we are this successful with all out missions, our kennels are going to fill up quickly."

"I know," Jonathan said. "If we fill them before all the scheduled recruiting missions are completed, then we'll cancel the last few missions. Preliminary reports from Carlyle indicate the mission on the yacht went well, too."

"Splendid," Miss Hancock said. "I'm all for filling the kennels quickly. It will be much easier to make replacements a few guests at a time than it will to continue to take large groups like we're doing now."

"Indeed," Jonathan said. "We needed these large groups, though, to fill the kennels for the official opening. Once they're filled, we won't need to continue with large missions like this, unless we have a particular rowdy group or a particularly interesting party one evening."

"I have to admit it to you, Jonathan," Stephen said. "This is a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. I can't wait to get started with some of these recruits. A couple of the S-classes are really spectacular. I mean modeling agency-type stuff. I never figured we'd find women like that at a business convention."

"Life is filled with little surprises, Stephen," Miss Hancock said. "I guess this is just one of them." She smiled wistfully at the thought of the days to come.

"Alright," Jonathan said, breaking up the moment. "Let's get going. We still have a lot to do in the next few days." The other two nodded at him. Miss Hancock picked up her clipboard and the three of them proceeded toward the door. Jonathan stopped long enough to tell the work slaves to clean out the trailers and for one to take the cages holding the two brunette sisters to one of the common rooms in a membership suite section.

The three of them strode off down the hall, each of their expectations completely blown away by the sheer quantity of flesh that had come out of the trailers.

Meanwhile, the young blonde woman that had been so rude to Jonathan Clark had undergone a quick processing and cleaning and was, at the moment, being carried kicking and screaming up a circular flight of stone stairs into a tower room six floors above the basement. Truly, she wasn't kicking and screaming all that much. The tight manacles she wore on her wrists and ankles that were joined by only one link of chain and the wide piece of duct tape she wore over her mouth kept kicking and screaming to a minimum.

Soon, the work slaves carrying the woman came to a heavy wooden door, bound with what looked like bands of iron. One of the work slaves had a key and opened the door. Inside the room, the young woman saw various implements of torture. Immediately, her eyes went wide and her struggles renewed with newly-discovered fervor. There wasn't much she could do about her predicament, surely. The manacles she wore prevented any real movement; she certainly couldn't run away. She might could roll herself down the stairs, but the work slaves holding her firmly prevented such thoughts from becoming reality.

Into the room the woman went, whether she wanted to or not. One of the work slaves tossed her to the floor while the other closed and locked the door behind them. The work slave that tossed the woman on the floor moved to a rack on the wall holding many different kinds of restraints. He selected four heavy leather restraints from the wall and moved to an odd-looking stainless steel table near the center of the room.

The table didn't match the room at all. The room looked medieval; the walls were stone, the floor was stone, the door was heavy wood and iron bound. It literally looked like a torture chamber from a castle of yore. The table, however, was stainless steel. The edges of the table were raised and there was a drain at one end of the table. The table itself stood on one central metal pedestal. The pipe from the drain ran closely along the underside of the table and into the pedestal on which the table rested. So, while the room looked very old, the table looked very new.

The work slaves had finished fixing the leather restraints to bolts welded to the underside of the raised edges of the table. The two work slaves crossed the room to where they'd left the woman lying on the floor. She'd been too interested in what they were doing and in looking about the room to even move. The two slaves hoisted her up onto the table. One of them held her ankles while the other one unlocked the manacles holding them together. As soon as the manacles were unlocked, the woman tried to kick away from the man holding her ankles. Unfortunately, he was quite prepared for her to do this and he kept a firm grip on her as she attempted to struggle. The other work slave, having set the manacles on the floor, took one of her ankles in his hands and the slave that had been holding her ankles took the other one. They pried her legs apart and fastened each of her ankles in a hard leather restraint. The surface of the table was only a couple of feet wide, but the chains of the restraints were short so her feet were held almost directly against the raised edges of the table. The process was repeated with the woman's wrists. They were fastened into restraints by her waist, again nearly touching the edges of the table.

It was done. The work slaves had restrained her to the cold stainless steel table. They had left the tape on her mouth so all she could do was to stare helplessly upward at the assembly of lights and hoses protruding from the ceiling above the table. The work slaves left the room, closing and locking the door behind themselves as they went. The woman tried to look after them and tried to plead with them, but the table did not face the doorway and the tape on her mouth made any effort at speech ridiculous. So, she laid on the table and waited in silence. What more could she do?

A work slave with a forklift had transferred the two cages holding the two brunette girls from the concrete floor of the loading area to a large motorized handcart. The slave took the controls of the handcart, which looked like miniature handlebars, and with a whirring of the battery-powered engine, transported the two sisters from the loading area, down a long stone hallway to a large freight elevator, from the elevator they turned into a carpeted hallway with wood paneled walls, then through a large common area and into a narrower hallway off of the common area. Along the way, they passed a few people, none of which paid any attention to the works slave or the occupants of the cages he was transporting. They had even passed a couple of naked girls wearing only black leather collars and carrying silver trays with what seemed to be tea services on them. The girls in the cages noticed that the naked women carrying the trays had their heads shaved and were tattooed with red numbers on their pussies. The slaves carrying the trays paid no notice at all to the cages on the handcart. As they walked past, they continued the conversation they were having without any pause at all, like this was a completely normal occurrence to them.

The work slave opened a door along the hallway down which he had driven the handcart. He maneuvered the handcart into the room, moving the cages out of the way and against one of the walls of the room. The work slave powered off the handcart and left the room, closing the varnished wooden door behind him. The grated doors of the cages faced into the room, so the girls inside could see their new setting.

The room was a magnificent sitting area. Two plush sofas rested across from the girls' cages; one against the same wall as the door through which they had entered, the other was against the wall to the right of the door, which happened to be the wall across from the cages. In the corner between the couches, sat a black metal floor lamp. Two more of the lamps sat in other corners of the room as well. The lamps cast soft white light on a lovely cream-colored rug one which rested a very sturdy-looking coffee table. The top of the table was bare, but it seemed like there were some kinds of protrusions under the table top. The girls didn't really have a good enough vantage point to make out what they were. The handcart on which their cages rested had raised them at least six or eight inches off the floor, so their perspectives were not from floor level, but from somewhat above it.

Also in the room, but mostly unseen to the girls was an entertainment stand that housed a large television, DVD player, stereo system and several books. The girl's cages had been parked almost directly against the entertainment stand so all the could see of the structure was mostly obscured by small slits cut into the sides of the cages for ventilation. On the other side of the entertainment stand from the cages was a wardrobe of sorts. Inside the wardrobe were various restraints, tethers, collars, lead, paddles, riding crops, sex toys and other implements for sex and torture.

The sitting area opened into a dining are and a small kitchen beyond. Two doorways led off from either side of the dining area. These doorways opened into halls, and off of each hall were four bedrooms. Each bedroom held two large beds and could sleep two people, or four if the residents had partners.

These areas - the bedrooms, kitchen, dining area and sitting room - made up what was known as a basic membership suite. There were other kinds of suites as well, and many private rooms. Each type of room was given out to different levels of membership in the Estate. Presently, most of the basic suites were being used to house the mercenary unit that Jonathan Clark had hired to assist with recruiting.

At the moment, two girls sat huddled in dog cages and wrapped in a blanket in one of the suite belonging to the men that had taken them from the convention center. It was in these cages that the girls awaited their disposition.

Two hundred eighty-seven women waited in line in a chilly stone hallway outside of the large double door that led into the processing area. The twenty naked slaves that had been escorting the line of women began to let each woman into the processing are one at a time. Any woman marked as an X-class was pulled to the side and told to wait against the opposite wall of the hallway.

The processing area was laid out in four separate stages. Twenty women at a time were led into each stage to be processed. The first area in processing was a large room with twenty specially-designed chairs. Each chair was somewhat similar to a barber's chair, but was also fitted with what appeared to be gynecological stirrups. The ceiling in this room was somewhat low, and depending from the ceiling above each chair was a hose with a shower sprayer on the end of it. Each woman was seated in a chair attended by a clothed work slave wearing latex gloves. Near each chair was a small rolling plastic cart with three drawers. The topmost drawer in each cart held three straight razors, the second drawer contained shaving gel, and the last drawer held lotion. The women were seated, twenty at a time, in the chairs, they were told to put their ankles into the stirrups, and then they were doused with water from the hoses above each chair.

The water, it turned out, was warm. This was actually a point that had been argued over by the founding members of the Estate for some time before it was decided that function took precedence over form. Certainly cold water would have added to the discomfort of the recruits, but warm water made it easier to epilate their bodies. So, in the end, warm water was used, the recruits were given a brief respite from the chill in which they had existed for the last day and a half, and the ease of shaving argument won out in the end.

In moments, the work slaves attending each chair shaved the head of the woman in the chair, rubbed shaving gel into the woman's eyebrows and pubic hair, if they had any - many of the women were already shaved, as had become the fashion over the last few years - and then their eyebrows and pubic areas were shaved. Even the women whose pubic areas were already been shaved were given the treatment to ensure optimal smoothness. Once the hair was completely removed from each woman's head and nether regions, lotion was rubbed on the shaved areas to soothe skin discomfort. The women were then removed from the chairs and escorted to the second door for phase two of processing while the work slaves used push brooms to clean the hair from the floor of the room before the next set of women was brought in for shaving.

Beyond the second door laid a room featuring twenty bare, flat, stainless steel tables onto which each woman was told to lie. Near each table was a shorter, smaller table with a tattooing station on it. Next to each table sat a volunteer member of the Estate on a short metal stool. Each wore latex gloves and each held the applicator to a tattooing machine. The volunteer members had each been given a set of numbers to use when tattooing the women. Once a volunteer tattooed a number onto a woman, he crossed it from his list. In short order, each woman had a number tattooed in black on their mons, and then they were told to turn over so the same number could be applied to each buttock The numbers on the buttocks were not situated directly to the rear, but slightly to either side. The effect was created so that no matter from what angle the slave was approached, her number could always be read. Once each woman had been tattooed with her new identification number, she was led through the third door to the next area of processing.

Processing area three was a simpler area. Basically, it was a hallway with the door from area two at one end and the doorway to area four at the other end. Standing in the hallway that was area three were two slaves wearing latex gloves and standing before two waste baskets. As women were led into area three, they were beckoned forward by the two slaves, inspected for red marks on their bodies that indicated piercings or cosmetic enhancements. If the two work slaves found any piercings, the slaves removed them from the new recruit and tossed the jewelry into the waste baskets. The work slaves also made notes on clipboards hung on the wall of each woman's number, the bra size that was written on her breast, what class each woman was, and the location and type of each cosmetic enhancement. If the work slaves did not quite know what type of enhancements the recruit had, then they made sure to get detailed information from the recruit. The new recruits were then told to go through the next doorway into area four.

Processing area four was a large, white-tiled shower room with a concrete floor. In the floor were set four drains, each four inches in diameter and covered by a sturdy metal grilling. The room was warm and steamy as each shower nozzle sprayed hot water into the room and onto the floor. Under each shower nozzle, bolted into the walls, was a small stainless steel tray holding several cakes of green soap. Two volunteer attendants stood at the doorway into and the doorway out of the shower room. They instructed each woman to step underneath a shower nozzle, wash with the soap in the tray in front of them, and then to step out of the shower and proceed to the attendants at the far doorway. The soap on the tray was some of the commercially-available soap specifically used to remove marker ink from skin. By the time each woman had finished washing, the marks left on her body by the man in black the previous day were gone. The attendants at the far door inspected each woman as she approached them. Any woman that had missed any of the red ink was sent back to the shower and instructed to make sure she removed all the ink. Eventually, the showers were finished and the women were shown through the final door of processing.

The final doorway opened into a room where several work slaves and volunteers waited for the women to finish their processing. One group of five work slaves waited for the first twenty women to finish processing completely before taking them out of the doorway leading out of the final room. The work slaves led the women wordlessly down a long hallway very much like the one the women had been led to go to processing. The hallway ended in a heavy, iron-bound strong-looking wooden door. The women were led through the door and into a somewhat largish room. Five doors, besides the large wooden door through which they had entered, provided additional exits to the large room. There were two doors in each the left and the right side walls, and one door directly ahead of the women in the wall across from them. The work slaves led the women to the doorway that was the first to the left. The women were led down a short hallway that quickly turned right and ended in another stout-looking, iron-bound door. One of the work slaves used a key and opened this door and the women were escorted through it and into a very unusual-looking room.

The room was only about ten feet wide with an eight foot ceiling, but looked to be over a hundred feet long. Along either side of the room were many small doors, each only about two feet wide and four feet tall. The doors were made of heavy-looking wood and each had a small, barred window set into it and each was set with a heavy metal slide bolt on the outside. The thing that made this room even more unusual was that there were two rows of these doors on either side of the room, one atop the other. The two rows of doors were separated by a narrow wooden walkway that was accessible by a short flight of steps at intervals between each fifth door.

One work slave ascended the short set of steps and crouched on the wooden walkway near the top, leftmost door. The work slave pulled the slide bolt and opened the door. Another of the work slaves pushed the first of the women toward the short steps and indicated that she should enter the open door.

One at a time, women were shown through small doors in this room. It turned out there were thirty columns of doors lining each wall of the room, totaling one hundred twenty doors, sixty to each side, in this room.

The doors opened into small stone cells. Each cell was a four foot cube and was not large enough to ever let any of the women stretch out or stand to their fullest height. In each cell was a blanket which every woman, without fail, wrapped about themselves as they had not been allowed to dry themselves after their showers and the cooling water on their bodies was making them quite cold again in the chill air of the basement. Also in each cell was a simple tin pan, presumably to hold food for each woman. This presumption was made all the more plausible by the fact that, on closer inspection, each door had a small slot in the bottom through which the tin pan could easily be slid. In the floor of each cell, near the rear wall, was a hole four inches in diameter. The hole angled sharply into a pipe behind the rear wall of each cell. It was into this hole, they were told, that they were to dispose of their urine and feces. Also, protruding only an inch into each cell was a small, metal tube with a metal ball bearing stopper. It was from these tubes, they were also informed, that they would take their water. The tube reminded the women of the sorts of tubes that hung through the bars of their children's hamster cages. To be sure, that was the exact thinking behind the design of the watering tubes.

The work slaves informed each woman that the blankets in their cells would be their only source of warmth in this chilly basement. Their blankets would be laundered weekly by work slaves. The women were also informed that the tin pan was for their food and that they would be fed three meals a day. Proper feeding technique was for each woman to slide her pan through the slit in the door and wait for it to be filled with food and slid back inside the door to them. The work slaves informed the women, finally, that these were their new homes, that the women should get used to them and learn to enjoy their surroundings and each others' company. It was very likely all they would ever have again.

As he left the room, the last work slave out also mentioned that lights out was at ten PM every night. After lights out, there was to be no talking. After that, the work slave closed and locked the heavy door behind him.

The women were left alone. Many began to cry, the reality of their situations finally beginning to truly set in on them. Others of the women tried to offer as much comfort to the distraught women as they could with only their voices and a six inch barred window would allow.

In surprisingly little time, two hundred sixteen women, all new slaves of the Collectors Estate, were processed and housed. Of the original two hundred eighty-seven, seventy-one of the women had been marked as X-classes and were shown to a different area of the castle entirely.

The heavy, iron-bound door was unlocked and opened and someone, or a couple of people by the sound of it, had entered the room. The door was closed again and locked. One man came into view off to the blonde woman's right. It was that smug bastard that thought he was the master of all he surveyed. The blonde woman also heard movement closer to her, from just to her left. As she turned her head to see who it was, a pair of strong, firm hands grabbed her head and held it tightly. The hands which, as it turned out, were actually attached to a very beautiful brunette woman that the blonde woman had not seen previously.

The blonde woman's head was raised off the surface of the table a couple of inches and the man slid some kind of contraption underneath it. She did not know what the thing under her head was, but in a few seconds, she felt cold metal against the sides of her forehead and jaw. The woman released her head, but she found that she could not turn her head at all. Two metal bars on either side of her head were keeping her facing forward.

The man spoke to her. His voice almost seemed like it was laced with regret about whatever it was he was about to do to her. He said to her, "I really wish you had kept that tongue of yours in your mouth, rather than spouting off all that nastiness back in the loading area. I'm afraid the consequences of your actions will have to be paid. There's no way around that now."

The woman handed the man a couple of small objects. The blonde woman on the table couldn't make out what they were. The man nodded to the brunette woman and the tape was torn painfully from the blonde woman's mouth.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. Before she could say another word, the woman had her by the head again. "Ow!" the blonde woman cried out. The brunette woman was forcing the blonde woman's jaws apart. The blonde woman tried to protest, but she could not close her mouth enough to form words. All that came out were incoherent sounds.

Once the brunette woman had the blonde woman's mouth open far enough, Jonathan Clark forced the two rubber stays between the blonde woman's back teeth. The blonde woman's mouth was forced all the way open, painfully so. She tried to protest again, but she couldn't make any intelligible sounds.

The man picked up something off a small table that the brunette woman had wheeled closer to the table on which the blonde woman was restrained.

"I really wish you had kept that tongue of yours in your mouth," he said again. "Oh well. Now that won't be an issue." The man's hand came into view and the blonde woman could see what he was holding; it was a pair of metal tongs. Confusion filled the blonde woman's head. She had no idea what he was doing.

He reached into her mouth with the tongs and grasped her tongue with them, pulling it painfully forward. It felt like he was trying to rip it our of her head. The man reached over and picked something up off the table with his other hand and brought it into the blonde woman's view. The new item was a surgical scalpel.

The blonde woman's eyes immediately went as wide as saucers and her face paled with the sudden realization of what he was about to do to her. She tried to scream, to turn her head, to pull free of him or her bonds, but it was all futile. She was too well secured to move and even if she could scream, who would hear her besides uncaring people anyway?

Slowly and carefully the man's hand holding the scalpel approached her open mouth. She tried to scream again, her body shaking with the efforts of her struggles against her bonds and the fear of her situation. Suddenly, there was an awful pain under her tongue. The pain soon spread further into her mouth and she realized the man really was cutting out her tongue. She tried as hard as she could to scream again, but she still could muster much more than gurgling grunts. Her mouth was filling up with her own blood and now she was not only fearful of being butchered by this man, but also of drowning in her own blood. The brunette woman dispelled one of the blonde woman's fears. She stuck a small hose into the blonde woman's mouth that immediately began sucking the blood caused by the slow, steady cutting of the large muscle in the blonde woman's mouth.

On and on it went. The man cut slowly and precisely as the blonde woman was held captive in agonizing pain and terror. She was even too panicked to pass out. Still, she struggled fruitlessly against her bonds, the muscles and veins in her arms and legs standing out in her efforts to free herself from this twisted, sadistic maniac at the other end of the scalpel that was causing her so much pain. Pain that seemed to go on and on. Every slice of the scalpel was a new wave of agony, and the knowledge of what was happening, intensified by the inability to prevent it only served to make matters worse for the blonde girl on the table. The whole terrifying process seemed to take forever. How long could it take to cut out someone's tongue? It seemed the man holding the scalpel was intentionally taking his time in an effort to prolong her suffering.

Before she knew it, he had made the last cut and her tongue came out of her mouth dangling in the jaws of the tongs the man held. She could see it hanging there loosely flapping about while the brunette woman brought a stainless steel specimen pan over to the man. He dropped the blonde woman's tongue into the pan with a wet-sounding splat against the metal.

The blonde woman was in shock. She didn't feel the pain in her mouth anymore and her mind couldn't focus on anything except how strange the inside of her mouth felt. The man had reached for something else that was on the table, but the blonde woman didn't know or care what it was. Her eyes lolled in her head and her brain could not focus on anything for more than a second at a time. Suddenly, there was a searing, excruciating pain in her mouth and she smelled burning flesh. Again she tried to scream, and this time more sound came out of her mouth now that her tongue wasn't being held in place by cold steel tongs. She struggled even harder at her bonds in this new, searing pain. Her entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat and the cords in her neck stood out as she tried to turn her head away from the agonized charring in her mouth. The leather of the restraints was beginning to cut into her skin, so profound was the pressure she was exerting against them. Again her efforts were in vain and the searing, scorching pain in her mouth continued on for what seemed like hours. She tried again to scream, but every time she tried to draw in a new breath to scream again, something acrid filled her lungs, making her choke and gag. She saw smoke coming out of her mouth and the man holding a small metal thing. Another wave of pain greeted her as the man did something with the metal thing in her mouth. She smelled the burning flesh again and this time she did pass out.

The two sisters heard voices in the hallway approaching the door to the room in which they'd been left. They had no idea who the people were coming down the hall, but they secretly hoped they were coming to this room. The sisters were hungry and needed to go to the bathroom really badly.

The door opened and in walked a man in khaki pants and a black designer t-shirt. Another man entered the room behind the first. The second man was black and tall. He wore faded blue jeans and a black leather jacket. At first, the two men looked somewhat confused by the cages. They bent down and peered inside the cages and saw the naked teen girls inside for the first time. Instantly, both the mens' faces broke into large, gleeful smiles.

"Alright!" one of the men shouted and gave the other man a high-five.

The man in khaki pants was opening the door to one of the cages and the other man was dialing a number on his cellular telephone. As the girls were removed from the cages, they could hear the black man talking on his cell phone to someone on the other end of the line.

"Dude! You have got to come to our room, man," the black man was saying. After a short pause, he said, "Because our hosts left us some presents." There was another pause, this one longer, then the black man said, "Look just come on over and see for yourself. I promise you won't regret it."

One of the girls looked at the man in khaki as he took her out of her cage and stood her up before him. "Who are you?" she asked shyly. Both of the girls still clutched the small blankets about their bodies, trying to have at least some modesty among these strange men.

"Us?" the man in khakis asked. "We just do some work for the people that own this place." He knew all too well that he had been on the squad that had kidnaped these girls from the convention center. He didn't know who the girls were, but he didn't care either. He just knew that they were part of his payment and he was going to enjoy this part of the deal.

The other girl spoke up and asked the man, "May we use your bathroom please?"

"What?" the man in khaki asked. "Oh sure. Just go through that door right there," he pointed to the right hand door that led off from the dining area. "Then it's the first door on the right. Just go through the bedroom and you'll see the bathroom door to the left."

"Thanks," the taller of the two girls said. Soon, they had both disappeared through the doorway, closing the door behind them.

The black man looked at the man in khakis and said, "Your weapons are stored away, right?"

"Yeah," the man in khakis said. "They're in a locked case under my bed. Even if those girls found the case and knew what it was for, they couldn't get into it without a number code and my key."

"What do you think?" the black man asked. "You think they know who we are?"

"I don't know" the man in khakis said. "I don't care either. All I know is the people that own this place are giving us a couple of pieces of young, sweet tail and I'm going to take it."

"Amen to that, brother," the black man said smiling.

In the bathroom, the younger of the two sisters had just finished on the toilet. The older girl was looking around in the bathroom and bedroom, frantically searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" the younger girl asked, coming into the bedroom from the bathroom.

"A fucking door out of here, or a window, or a gun, or something. I don't care what. Just something to get us out of here," the older sister said, rummaging in a drawer. "There's nothing here, though."

"What's going on?" the younger girl asked. "I mean, I know we've been kidnaped and all, but they're going to ask for ransom and all, right? I mean, we'll be fine once our parents pay for us, right?"

"Didn't you hear that guy after we were taken off those trucks?" the older girl asked her younger sibling. "He said we had a purpose to serve here and that if we became displeasing, they'd kill us."

"Yeah. I heard that," the younger girl said. "I just figured they were trying to scare us. You know? To keep us in line until they got their ransom."

"Maybe so, sis," the older girl said. "But I sure as hell don't want to stick around to find out, if I don't have to."

From out in the hallway came the voice of the man in khakis, "Is everything okay in there?" he asked. "Did you find the bathroom alright?"

"We're fine!" the older sister said back through the door. "We'll be out in a minute!"

There was no response, but the girls heard the hallway door close.

"Fuck!" the older sister exclaimed in a loud whisper. "We have to get out of here."

"Well, I don't think there's any way out of here," the younger sister said. "Did you find any weapons we could use?"

"No. Not a fucking thing," the older girl said. "Not even a nail file."

"What do we do?" the younger sister asked.

"I don't know," the older girl replied. "I guess we go out there and just try to deal with this until we can get out of here or until we get paid for."

"Okay. I guess we don't have a choice," the younger girl said, sighing.

"It doesn't look like it," the older girl said. She gathered up her blanket from where she'd left it on the bedroom floor when she'd gone to the bathroom. "Let's go," she said. She had a dreadful feeling about this, though; like they were, perhaps, walking into a snake pit.

Both of the girls wrapped their blankets around themselves and left the bedroom, re-entering the dining area through the hallway door. They were a little surprised to see that there were now four men in the room. The two men from before, plus another big black man and a shorter, wiry-looking Hispanic man.

"Ah! Our guests have arrived," said the man in khaki. He was sitting on one of the couches in the sitting room and drinking a beer. "Come on in here, girls. Meet our friends."

The girls walked forward nervously. "Hello," the younger girl said, her voice shaking a little.

"See?" the black man said. "Didn't I tell you guys the people that owned this place knew how to keep us happy?"

"You said it," the new black man said, his voice was very deep. "Not only do they pay well, but they 'pay' well." He laughed and his fellows joined in.

"Oh god," the older sister said quietly and with deep dread in her voice.

"What's the matter?" the other girl whispered back.

" We're their payment," she hissed at her sister. "We've been given to these men as a reward for something." Then a sudden realization dawned on her. The way these men looked, the way they carried themselves, their whole demeanor was almost militaristic.

"Oh shit, Jen!" she said in a tense whisper. " They're the ones that kidnaped us. Not those guys in suits we saw after we were taken off the trucks."

"You're almost right," the man in khakis said, startling the two girls. They both looked over at him and notice he'd been watching them the whole time. His friends turned toward the girls to see what the man meant by his comment.

"We're the ones that kidnaped you," the man in khakis said, getting up from the couch and leaving his beer bottle on the coffee table. "But we did it for those guys in suits. They are the ones that paid us to snatch a whole bunch of women from that convention center. You girls weren't part of the original plan, though. We took you guys, even though they'd ordered all the convention staff to be killed."

The two girls gasped as one.

"So you see," the man continued his explanation. He was now standing directly in front of both of them. "You don't matter to them. They didn't even know we'd taken you until we were asked about the discrepancy in the count."

"Oh god," the older girl said meekly.

"So, until we get our next assignment, the two of you belong to us," the man said, reaching out with his hand and caressing the younger girl's pale cheek. "We can do whatever we want with the both of you. I bet we could even kill the both of you and those people in the suits wouldn't even care."

Before the girls could even move, before they could even realize the gravity of their situation, before they could even comprehend what was about to happen to them, the man in khaki pants reached out and grabbed the both of them tightly by the throat and dragged them both, gasping for air, into the sitting room. The other three men tore the blankets from the girls' panicked grasps. The man in khakis pushed the older girl toward one of the black men and pushed the younger girl face-down onto the coffee table. The Hispanic man immediately grabbed her hair and held her firmly against the hard wooden surface of the table.

"Oh god, no!" the older girl cried out, but her please were in vain. The big black man had his hand around her throat and was forcing her to her knees with one hand while unzipping his camouflage pants with the other hand. The other black man had moved behind the older girl and was sliding something around her neck. Whatever it was, it felt like leather to her. She felt a buckle being cinched up at the back of her neck. The big black man raised her face upward with his hand, so that she was looking up at his face. His face was full of sadistic glee, as if having this young white girl at his mercy made him very happy. Something was snapped to the band of leather at the girl's throat and she felt a tug. The other black man came into view and she could see, coiled in his hand was the end of a leather leash. The other end of the leash was apparently what had been snapped to the leather at her neck. Her brain put two and two together quickly enough and with added horror she realized she'd just been collared and leashed like a dog.

The larger black man reached into his open fly and pulled out the biggest dick the girl had ever seen in her life. The thing was a monster; it had to have been ten inches long and looked big around enough to choke a horse. The other black man, the one holding her leash, was now unzipping his pants and pulling out his dick, too. It wasn't as big as the other man's, but it was still huge. It was probably nine inches long and as big around as the other man's was.

"Oh my god," the girl said slowly, her eyes huge at the shock of the two monster cocks in front of her face.

"That's right, little white bitch," the large black man said, shaking his dick in her face. "This is your god now. You'll be praying to it before long."

"Yeah," the other black man said. "But for now, you can suck off the holy ghost and swallow our sins." With that, he jerked on the leash, pulling the girl forward sharply. She nearly lost her balance and put her hands out to catch herself. She wound up with a hand on each man's leg and her face staring eye-to-eye with those enormous black cocks. The man holding her leash grabbed her by the hair with his free hand and pushed the head of his cock against the girl's tightly closed mouth. She made a noise through her closed mouth, letting the men know she wasn't opening up for any reason.

The larger black man brought his hand down and slapped her hard against her left cheek. Her head snapped sideways and she looked up at the man, startled, her right cheek burning in pain.

"Suck that dick, bitch!" he snapped at her. "You suck it or we'll beat your little white ass to death. You hear me?"

The older girl started to cry. For the first time since they'd been kidnaped, she began to feel totally hopeless. The two black men each took one of her hand and put them around their big pricks. She couldn't even close her hands all the way around them, they were so big around when they were hard. The man holding her leash had his hand in her hair again and was pulling her head forward toward his monster cock again. The girl closed her eyes and opened her mouth, hoping it would all be over soon.

From her point of view, the younger girl couldn't see anything except the wood grain of the coffee table. The wiry Hispanic man was holding her head so hard against the table top, she though he was going to crush her forehead and nose. Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled forward by her head. Her feet had been on the ground, but now she was pulled completely onto the top of the table. Someone had taken a firm grip of one of her ankles and was strapping something to it. She heard metal on metal and felt the thing on her ankle tightening, almost uncomfortably so. Next, her other ankle was taken and something was strapped to it and tightened. When her ankles were released, the girl tried to move her legs, but she found that she could only move her feet a few inches. Now, her wrist was being grabbed and strapped, too, and then the other one was done. The girl couldn't move any of her appendages no more than a couple of inches.

Suddenly, she heard a loud smacking sound and someone, one of the black men off to her right said loudly, "Suck that dick, bitch! You suck it or we'll beat your little white ass to death! You hear me?" She knew then that something terrible was happening to her sister and that, very likely, something terrible was going to be happening to her very soon.

The wiry man let go of her head, so she could turn and see what was going on. She saw her sister on her knees in front of the two black men. They were taking turns shoving their enormous cocks into her mouth. It looked like every time one of them pushed his big, black dick into her mouth that the skin of her jaws was going to split open. Both of the black men were watching her with evil delight in their eyes as her small mouth and hands tried to fit around their huge pricks.

Suddenly, something cold and slimy was being poured against the younger girls butt hole, making her jump and cry out in surprise. She heard a zipper being unzipped and a few second later something warm and hard was being moved around in the cold, slimy stuff on her butt hole. Then suddenly and without any warning, the young girl experienced the most painful thing she'd ever felt in her entire life. The warm hard thing was being pushed forcefully into her virgin butt hole and it felt as if it was ripping her apart. Her mouth came open at once, but she couldn't even scream. The thing invading her rectum hurt so much, she couldn't even draw a breath. The thing was withdrawn slightly and then pushed into her again, and this time there was more of it and the pain kept increasing. All she could do was lie there, her mouth open in a silent cream and her eyes squeezed together and tears running down her cheeks. Again the hard object was withdrawn from her slightly and again it was forced back into her again and again it went into her even farther than the last time. This time, though, she heard a satisfied grunt from above and behind her. Now she knew what was happening! It dawned on her finally that she was being raped anally. One of the men was behind her and was fucking her up her butt. Her eyes shot open in surprise in time to see the wiry man getting on his knees in front of the coffee table, his cock was in his hand right in front of her face.

Finally, as the cock in her ass was withdrawn and plunged back into her for the fourth time, she screamed. Unfortunately, her scream lasted about a half a second, until it was cut off abruptly by the Hispanic man's cock forcing itself down her throat.

The older girl heard her sister scream and then something that sounded like a duck being strangled. She looked around to see what was happening. She saw her sister lying face-down on the coffee table, leather cuffs at her wrists and ankles. The man in khakis was behind her, his pant at his knees, and he was raping her sister's asshole. Her sister's body was tensed in pain and her face was contorted in agony. The wiry-looking Hispanic man had gotten on his knees in front of her sister and had shoved the entire length of his prick down her throat, causing the strangling duck sound she'd heard earlier. Both men looked like they were in complete ecstacy as they forced their cocks into either end of her younger sister. She could see the tears running down her sister's cheeks and she knew she must have been in a lot of pain.

Suddenly, something hard, a fist, was slammed hard into her into her right cheek and she heard one of the black men say, "What the fuck are you doing, bitch? Get back to sucking."

Reluctantly, wanting to lend her sister what moral support she could, but not wanting to get killed by doing it, she turned back to the two huge black dicks in her hands and started sucking one of them again. She'd suck one for about ten seconds and then the other man would grab her and force her mouth onto his cock while the other man made her jerk him off until he was ready for her to start sucking him again a few seconds later. And so it went for several moments until, finally, the larger black man gave a loud groan. He grabbed her hair and used her head to masturbate himself to an orgasm. His long cock dumped was felt like a gallon of bitter, slimy sperm into her mouth. She had to fight not to throw up all over him. After what seemed like an age, he finished filling up her cheeks with his semen.

"Swallow it, little slut," he said, looking down at her. "Swallow that black cum and tell me how you like it."

She gulped the man's cum down her throat in one big slimy chink and looked up at him and said as believably as she possibly could, "I loved having your black cum in my mouth."

"Oh yeah!" the black man exclaimed excitedly. "You hear that, man?" he asked the other black man. "She likes that black cum."

"Good, because I'm going to give her some more in just a few minutes," he said to the larger black man. He looked down at the girl again and said, "Get back to work. Now you can pay lots of attention to my big black dick."

Without another word, the girl opened her mouth as wide as she could and sucked his big dick again. As she pumped her mouth over his cock, she also pumped her hand on it. She noticed he made more noise when she did this, so she assumed it was a good thing and would make him get finished faster.

In just a few moments, he grunted and shot his thick, bitter sperm in her mouth, too. She swallowed it down quickly before it made her puke. She looked at him, too, and tod him how much she liked it in her mouth. In part, she actually guessed this was true. She'd actually rather have these guys putting their big monster dicks in her mouth than she would have them trying to cram them into her pussy or asshole. She could just imagine how much that would hurt. She'd tried anal sex once when she was a couple of years younger. It had hurt like hell and that boy had a little dick compared to the hulks she'd just gotten finished sucking.

The two men put their cocks back in their pants and zipped up, then they dragged the girl by the leash to the couch and sat down. They made her kneel on the floor between them, directly to the side of the coffee table, so she could watch the rape of her younger sister.

As she watched, both of the men pummeled her sister with their cocks. The man in khaki pants savagely rammed his cock into her ass over and over again. Each time brought a fresh squeal of pain from the young girl. That is, when the girl could squeal. The other man was equally furiously pounding his cock down the girl's throat, all the way to the balls. Every time he shoved his cock into her throat, she made a small retching sound, but couldn't throw up because the man's cock kept forcing her throat closed.

For several long minutes, the men both pounded away at the young girl's mouth and ass. Soon, the Hispanic man tensed and his eyes squeezed shut as he emptied his balls directly into the girl's throat. In a small way, her sister felt the girl was lucky. At least she didn't have to taste the semen in her mouth. The man pulled his softening cock out of her throat and collapsed back on the couch behind him. The other man, though, seemed like he wanted to prolong the girl's agony. He kept pumping his hard cock in and out of her tight hole, his hips making slapping sounds against her thin ass every time he plunged his cock into her.

Now that the Hispanic man's cock wasn't in her throat anymore, the younger girl could cry now. She cried the whole time the man behind her forcefully violated her butt hole with his hard cock. The tears ran down her face to her chin and dripped onto the coffee table as she wept in the pain and degradation of what was happening to her.

As the man continued to rape her virgin ass, she happened to look over at the couch next to the coffee table. She saw her sister kneeling naked between the two black men. All three of them were watching her being violated. The two men looked on with sexually charged interest, but her sister looked on with anguish. Here eyes told the tale; she was horror-struck at what was happening to her little sister and still could not believe this was their fate. The young girl laid her head on the coffee table and looked at her sister's face in its mask of anguish. The younger sister continued to cry openly as the man behind her finally finished with her. With a satisfied grunt, the man behind the young girl came into her ass and withdrew his cock from her as he breathlessly walked around to the front of the coffee table. He apparently wasn't quite finished with her yet.

The Hispanic man moved his feet and legs out of the way as the man in khakis dropped to his knees near the young girl's head. He was holding his pants in one hand, but let them go as he got to his knees. He grabbed the girl by the hair and turned her head toward his semi-limp cock covered in his cum and some blood from her torn anus.

"Open your mouth," he said to the girl. She was so mortified that she could not help but to obey. Into her mouth his cum and blood-soaked cock went. She gagged at first, but soon closed her mouth around it, cleaning off the member that had just violated her young, virgin butt hole. Satisfied with her performance, then man eventually stood up, pulled up his pants and buttoned and zipped them. He walked around behind the girl again, his craving for torment obviously not yet fulfilled.

"Let me see that leash," he said to the black man holding the leather leash. The man threw the end of the leash to the man in khaki pants and he jerked the older girl to his feet.

He pointed to the dollop of cum and blood forming in the younger girl's asshole and said, "Lick her clean."

The older girl shook her head. "No," she said. "I can't."

"You can't?" the man asked incredulously. "What do you mean you can't?"

"She's my sister," the older girl said morbidly. "I just can't do something like that to her."

The admission that these girls were sisters seemed to go over very well with the men. They immediately began plotting all manner of incestuous perversions to make the girls perform on one another. It seemed the thought of two teenaged sisters getting it on made these men all the more rowdy.

In the end, the man in khakis wound up pushing the girl's face into her sister's ass and making her lick the cum and blood from it. If the girl even showed any signs of trepidation, the man would viciously bring his hand down across her bare ass in a loud, stinging slap.

In moments, it was finished. The older sister had cleaned the cum and blood out of her younger sister's ass. The man in khaki pants had put the older sister back in her cage while the other men unfettered the other girl from the coffee table and put her into her cage. The men were at least nice enough to give them back their blankets.

The men drank more beer and watched television for awhile and then they all decided to go for dinner in town. As they were about to leave the room, one of the men said to another of the men, "When will the rest of the guys be back?"

The other man, the man in khaki pants, said, "Tomorrow morning, They had to visit our supplier for some additional gear for the next mission."

"Cool," the man said, then he indicated the girls. "What do you think they'll think of them?"

The man in khakis chuckled and said, "I'm more interested in seeing what these girls think when they see the rest of the team." Both men laughed and then left the room, turning the lights off as they went.

The room was plunged into darkness, leaving the girls to sob and dwell on their misery, each alone in her own little cage.

"Oh god, Meg, there are more of them," the younger girl said pitifully. "I wonder how many more."

The older girl choked back her tears and said, "If these are the men that kidnaped us, then there are dozens of them." She paused for a moment and then said again, quietly, "Dozens."

"Oh god," her sister said again, her voice was filled with dread. "Oh god."

Jeri Denise Sullivan's eyes fluttered open. Her vision was blurry and she couldn't quite get her bearings. Her mouth hurt like hell, as if she'd drunk an entire bowl of scalding hot soup and completely blistered the lining of her mouth and her tongue.

Her tongue?

In a second she was alert, her vision was clear, and she remembered what had happened now. The sudden, stunning realization of what had been done to her penetrated the haze of shock in which she'd been. Now she remembered what happened!

That bastard had cut out her tongue! His goons had strapped her to that awful table in that tower and the smug man and that brunette Viking lady had removed her tongue. She couldn't believe it had really happened. In her shock-addled brain, it had all seemed like a terrible, terrible dream. Now she knew it was real, though. With that knowledge came the realization that these people were very, very serious about having their instructions followed with utmost fervor.

Her mouth hurt like hell and, for some reason, her pussy hurt, too now. She was also beginning to realize that she couldn't move her arms or her legs and she couldn't close her mouth. What the hell was going on here? She quickly took stock of her surroundings.

She was in a fairly large room that was completely empty, except for her. She noticed this room had five doorways exiting from it, but she had no idea where each doorway went or what was behind any of them. She was strapped onto some kind of device. Looking at her arms and legs, she could see that she was strapped to a sturdy wooden frame that formed an X. The X-shaped frame sat atop a wooden platform. She couldn't see them from her vantage point, but the platform had casters attached to the bottom of it so it could be rolled easily from one place to another in the castle without having to remove the person strapped to the frame.

That explained why she couldn't move her arms or legs, but why couldn't she close her mouth? She tried to feel around her mouth with her tongue, but realized with a new pang of despair that she didn't have a tongue anymore. She tried to move her bottom jaw from side to side and was slightly successful. She heard her teeth grate against something metal. She wasn't sure what it was, but whatever the thing was, it was holding her mouth wide open. A long line of drool had begun to dribble out of her mouth, between her breasts and down her belly.

That explained why she couldn't close her mouth. All that was left to figure out was why her pussy hurt so much. She looked down as much as she could, looking past where her navel piercing used to be, past her now completely bare mons to try and see her labia or what was causing them so much pain.

Stretching forward, she could make out something depending from her labia by two light chains. It looked like a placard or a sign of some kind. She could almost make out the words, if only she could bend forward a little more. With some significant effort, she managed to lean forward and crane her neck enough to see a small whiteboard hanging from the two fine chains depending from her labia. With some effort, she was finally able to read the upside down text on the sign. It read: "Stay quiet! Follow the rules."

After a moment of confusion, she suddenly realized that she was being made an example of; she was going to be the warning to others not to be like her. She almost got it now. Women, or groups of women, would be led through those doors and they would see her and they would immediately see what happened to 'bad girls' around here.

If it was possible, this knowledge made her feel even worse. Now, every woman in this place would see her, would know what happened to her, look at her with horror and shock, and turn away from her in their disgust. She was an outcast now! She was a shunned, stupid, punished girl, only fit to exist as an example to other women. She began to cry. She felt so horrible. Why didn't she just listen to those men before? Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't someone else be the example and not her?

She hung there on her frame and cried, giving in to her pain, her anguish, and her despair. She'd brought it all on herself, she knew that. If she'd been good, she'd still be able to talk. She'd be good in the future, she promised herself. If she lived through this, she'd be really, really good.

While the other women were being processed and housed, the X-class women had been escorted down another hallway, down a flight of stairs and into a cold room in a sub-basement. They had been told to wait until they were summoned.

The room in which the women were kept was made of stone like the other room, but the door was made of steel and locked from the outside only. In fact, after the women were left here, they were locked in. This room also had to be twenty degrees colder than the basement above. All the women were shivering in moments. Many held one another to try to share heat.

After what seemed like hours, the steel door was unlocked and a man stepped in and told the women to follow him. The women, their teeth chattering and their knees shaking from the cold, followed the man down the stone hallway. They had no idea where he was leading them, but anyplace was better than that freezing room. To be sure, it wasn't much warmer in the hallway either. It seemed this whole sub-basement was kept as cold as a refrigerator.

As the last woman left the room, three armed men that had been waiting several feet down the hallway, towards the stairs, fell in place behind the women. One of them stopped briefly to close the door to the cold room and then took up his position with the other men following behind the women.

Along the way, they passed three more steel doors like the ones that looked exactly like the door to the room in which they'd been kept. More than one woman wondered what the purpose of these cold rooms could be.

In actuality, the rooms were designed to be used for food storage. There were several such rooms in this sub-basement, but at the moment most of them were empty, because the number of members and guests currently occupying the facilities were minimal. In another hallway similar to the ones down which the women were being led were four other rooms exactly like the one in which the women had been kept. All of these room had shelves of foodstuffs stored on them. Only items that needed refrigeration were stored in these rooms, though. Non-perishable items and canned good could easily be kept in any of the pantries adjacent to the kitchen area, two floors up from this one. As more rooms for cold storage were needed, then work slaves would bring shelves from storage and set up the new cold rooms for use. Each of these rooms were specially prepared for their use as cold storage rooms. They looked like dungeon rooms, certainly, but behind the stone walls, was heavy insulation, and concealed refrigeration units were used to keep all the rooms at near-freezing temperatures. Very likely, if the women had been left in the cold room for another hour, they would have begun to fall into comas from hypothermia.

At the end of the hallway down which the man was leading the women was a door that looked a lot like the doorway to a walk-in cooler. It was heavy, metal and thickly insulated. It also opened with one of those very distinct pull latches that most coolers seem to use. The man pulled the latch and the door swung open and its heavy hinges. He motioned for the women to enter the room beyond.

This room was quite different from the other room and the hallway the women had seen. While the cold room and the hallway were built of stone and looked like the rooms and halls in castles, this room was more modern-looking. The walls were white ceramic tile and looked very clean, almost sanitary. The floor and ceiling were bare concrete, and there was a grated drain in the floor. Ahead of the women was another heavy cooler-type door, above which was a small green light. The man that had led them in here was standing in front of this door; the men with guns had stayed outside, keeping guard that no one left the room that wasn't supposed to. The first thing the women noticed was that this room was freezing cold and fairly small. Once they were all through door and the door closed behind them, they were fairly packed in the room like sardines. They were all instantly shivering again in the cold air blown into the room by the two large stainless steel refrigeration units mounted high up on the right and left hand walls.

The man at the front of the room told the women that he would open the door at the front of the room and that ten women would step through the door at a time. He told them that once they were through the door they would wait for instructions and then follow them without hesitation or the men with guns would be called to take care of any problems.

After that, he swung open the heavy door and motioned the first ten women through. As soon as the women were through, he shut the door behind them and placed the steel pin through the handle so they could not again be opened, except by him.

Once they were through the door, the women found themselves in a short hallway. This hallway, too, was made of white tile and concrete and was just as cold and just as sanitary-looking as the room from which they'd just exited. Ahead of them, they could see that the hallway turned left and right, forming a T. The women padded slowly forward, their bare feet were quite loud against the concrete floor of this quiet room.

As they moved forward, the women saw that there were ten strange holes in the wall of the hallway; each hole was about eight inches in diameter, and each hole was covered at the moment with wooden panels. Past the holes, at each end of the hallway, was another cooler door. Where it led, they were not sure. Above each door, a small camera blinked a small red light at the women. From a loudspeaker in the ceiling of the hallway, a deep male voice told them to approach the holes in the wall. As the women stepped forward toward the holes, the coverings over them slid upward. From their vantage point, the women could see only another concrete floor beyond the holes in the wall.

The voice over the loudspeaker told the women to bend forward and put their heads in the holes. Fearing reprisals from the men with guns, but still somewhat uncertain, each woman tentatively moved forward, bent at the waist and each put her head through the hole in the wall. What they saw beyond the holes was confusing and a little scary.

It seemed they were looking into a butcher's shop. Inside the large, cold room beyond were several stainless steel tables on which various butchering equipment rested. Several men in white butcher's coats were also in the room, looking at the women's head poking through the holes.

Suddenly, the wood panels that had previously been covering the holes slid back into place, startling the women and eliciting panicked cries from them. Cries that, of course, could not be heard through the thick, insulated, metal doors. The panels were actually mounted inside the wall of the hallway that faced into the butchering area. Each panel had a curved section along its bottom edge that was designed to fit over the back of a human neck. Therefore, when each panel slid down again, each woman's head was trapped in the hole and, struggle as they might, the women could not free themselves from the entrapping of wood and tile.

From either side of the set of holes, two men approached wearing white butcher's coats and carrying pneumatic bolt hammers. Each man placed the action end of the hammer against each woman's head and pulled the trigger. The heavy steel bolt, powered by high pressure air, plunged forward, crashing through each woman's skull and penetrating their brains, killing them instantly. As the remainder of the women suddenly understood what was happening to them, they began to panic truly. Each woman still living began to cry out loudly and claw at the tiled wall, trying in a fruitless effort to pull her head from the hole. It made no difference; the outcome was the same for all of them. Two by two, the bodies on the other side of the holes in the wall went limp as if they were puppets and the puppeteer had cut the strings holding each woman's body.

After each woman was killed, the doors at either end of the hallway opened and in walked the men in white butchers coats. The wooden panels were raised again so the men could remove the bodies through the doors at either end of the hallway.

Once the dead were removed, two men entered the hallway carrying hoses with sprayers attached. As the women were killed as a result of massive head trauma, there was the tendency for them to empty their bladders and bowels as they expired. The men with hoses washed all detritus, whether urine, feces or blood, into two drains set into the floor. The circulated air from the refrigeration dispelled any odor quickly, and in just a moment, the hallway looked as clean and sanitary as it did before the women had entered. The entire process, from the time the first door was opened to the time the two men with hoses disappeared through the doors right and left, was about one minute.

When the doors at the far end of the hallway had opened, the small green light above the door leading from the small holding room into the T-shaped hallway had turned red. Now that the doors had been closed again, the light changed back to green. This let the man in the holding room know that the hallway was ready for another batch of women.

As the next group of women was brought into the hallway, two men in white butchers coats in rooms beyond the doors leading left and right from the hallway worked diligently. They placed the feet of the dead women in special metal hangers and hung the bodies upside down from various hooks depending from the ceiling of the two rooms. Once they were hung, the bodies were gutted; the entrails of each woman were allowed to fall into individual large plastic tubs. Later, the entrails would be sorted into useful and useless portions. The livers, kidneys, intestines, and hearts would all be kept; the rest of the organs would be discarded as waste.

In just over eight minutes, the holding room was empty, the man that had led the women into the holding room had joined the butchers in the cleaning room, and the mercenaries had left for other duties. The number of women in the gutting rooms had increased by just over seven fold, and the number of men gutting the bodies had tripled. Each body had to be gutted fairly quickly, or else rigor mortis would set in and the meat would turn gamey.

The hooks depending from the ceiling in the gutting room were mounted on a track system depressed into the ceiling. Once each body was gutted, it was then moved along the track through another heavy door into the next room. This room was called the cleaning room. In the cleaning room, each body was skinned and the heads, spines, hands and feet were removed. The bodies, before the feet were removed, were taken down from the hooks holding them and were placed on stainless steel carts. The carts were dual-layered, so each cart held two bodies.

The first body out of the cleaning room was taken directly into the butchering area where one of the butchers immediately went to work carving the meat from the bone. He was quite skilled, and not much was wasted. He kept the calves, the thighs, the butt, the back straps and the biceps and triceps. He even managed to preserve much of the 'wing' meat between the ulna and radius bones in the forearms. After the body was stripped, the bones were sent to waste and the meat was sent, via a dumbwaiter, up two floor.

Waste was taken very seriously at the Estate. Butchering waste, for instance, was kept in sealed blue plastic tubs in a refrigerated room. The tubs were each three feet in height, three feet wide and were four feet long. Each tub, when empty, could be placed on a steel cart with wheels on the bottom for easy movement. When six such tubs were filled, a disposal truck was called to come and remove the waste. The disposal trucks, which were owned by one of the Estate's members, were basically smaller, cheaper versions of garbage trucks. When one was called to the Estate, a driver would bring the truck to the basement loading entrance, the tubs of waste would be placed on the truck, and the truck would be driven to a foundry which was also owned by a Collectors member. Everything, the truck, tubs, and waste would then be put through a smelter, effectively disposing of any and all evidence in one easy step.

Bodies of recruits that had been killed within the Estate were disposed of similarly, except that whole bodies were placed into red tubs, which were slightly larger than the blue tubs, measuring four feet in height, four feet in width, and six feet in length. The larger size of these tubs was important for the accommodation of the whole bodies. Bones and remains were small, generally, and took up less room than whole bodies, so the tubs containing only butchered remains could be smaller than tubs containing whole bodies.

Regardless of the color of the tubs, they were all disposed of similarly. Other kinds of waste were disposed of differently. Normal garbage and normal food waste was compacted and wrapped in plastic in a large machine in another area of the basement. Cardboard boxes were put into a bailer, compacted, and recycled. The members of the Estate were very environmentally conscious and recycled whenever possible.

The remainder of the carcasses were hung from meat hooks in one of the large cold rooms that had been prepared as the carcasses were gutted and cleaned. Here, they would be allowed to age and they could be used as needed.

Thus was the disposition of the X-class girl at the Collectors Estate. These women, the ones that were either too fat, too skinny, too short, too unsightly, or with major flaws that made them unpleasing as slaves, were killed slaughtered and butchered like cattle.

Three hours later, at six PM, a group of four work slaves served dinner to the new recruits in the dormitories. At once, tin pans were pushed through slots under the doors, the work slaves pushed heated carts full of stew down the length of each dormitory, serving the stew into the pans with large ladles and then pushing the tin pans back through the slots under each door.

The women in the small cells were famished by now and ate well of the hearty stew. The meat was a little different than anything they'd had before, but they were so starved that they didn't care. Every woman ate every bite she was given, most even lapping the thick broth from the bottom of their pan with their tongue. No utensils were given to them, obviously, so the women were forced to eat with their hands, but none of them seemed to mind as soon as they smelled the food through the bars in their doors. Even the vegetarian women at the entire pan of food, so desperate for nourishment were they.

At ten o'clock, it was time for lights out and each woman, their bellies full and wrapped in their blankets, eventually drifted off to sleep. Each woman tried to make sense of their new predicament, if such was possible, but eventually they all succumbed to their need for sleep. Their brains had been overwhelmed the last two days and each woman was exhausted from the cold, the stress, and finally being fed after having eaten nothing for nearly two full days.

The first day of processing came to a close. The yields were higher than expected, which was good. There had been an extra loss, which was acceptable. There had been the need for an example to be made, which was expected.

The women in the cell dorms were all fed and sleeping, the woman strapped to the X frame remained unfed, but had fallen asleep finally, hanging in her bonds, and the two teen girls that had been given to the mercenaries for their amusement enjoyed more sessions of rapes by the four men before being surreptitiously shoved back into their cages for the night, their bodies aching from the repeated abuses of the four men.

Tomorrow, the process would begin again with the recruits taken from the yacht, and today's recruits would begin their first real day as slaves of the Collectors Estate.