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WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website without obtaining the author's permission first.
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Indoctrintation
by Night Owl
Chapter 12: A Day in Her New Life
"There," Sonia nodded with approval, "that should keep you loose enough for now, at least until you're sold."
Just as she had promised, the chastity belt was removed that morning, freeing the opening in Amber's tail end from the intrusive dildo. Being a virgin when it came to anal sex, she couldn't imagine anyone, man or woman, wanting to do such a thing. On the other hand, she couldn't deny how turned on she was after sleeping with the shape of a man's erect penis inside her all night.
Before her meal, Amber was taken to another room to be flogged. Sonia instructed her to kneel down with her elbows on the floor and her legs spread apart. Immediately, she felt the leather strands snake through her legs and snap violently against her exposed clit, jolting her nervous system to full alert. The lashes continued to explore that part of her anatomy in painful fashion. Amber did her best to bare the flogging silently, but the intensity of sensations and emotions became almost too much for her, building gradually to an explosive climax.
It was then, Sonia reversed the flogger in her hand and rubbed her swollen labia with the studded handle. Amber moaned softly, but she never broke her position.
"Does this excite you, slave?"
Amber nodded her head, "Yes, Mistress."
"And are to ready to cum for me?"
Yes, Mistress."
"Very good. You may cum for me then," Sonia told her, "and show me how good it feels to be whipped and fucked with same instrument."
She pushed the handle into her, and in turn, Amber had her climax and showed her gratitude with her gyrations and breathless moans, then finally a 'thank you, Mistress' when it was all over.
After her morning meal, Amber was taken to the showers, then to another room where Sonia continued to instruct her on proper slave etiquette:
1. A slave never speaks to anyone unless given permission to do so.
2. Slaves are not allowed to speak among themselves, whether alone or in the company of others, unless it is necessary for one to instruct the other on a specific task.
3. A slave must always address her owner or trainer as Master or Mistress. All other persons, guests, buyers, handlers, etc. must be addressed as Sir, Ma'am or Madam.
4. When given the order to "Present", the slave immediately must kneel in 'karta' position (hands and knees), then press her forehead to the floor, letting her hair spread out, her buttocks raised high in the air, and arms reaching forward with palms facing down.
There were other positions she had to remember also:
"Nadu - slave kneels to the floor, thighs parted, chest out, head up, eyes lowered, hands on the thighs, palms up . . .
"Bara - slave lays on her belly, forehead to the floor, wrists crossed behind her back and ankles crossed to make them assessable for binding . . .
"Collar - kneels at the Master's feet, body leans back, head back, arms raised, wrists crossed above the head, again for binding . . .
"Sula - lays on her back, hands extended from the sides, palms up, legs open . . .
"Whipping - slave kneels with wrists crossed underneath, head touching the floor, exposing the bow of her back for punishment . . ."
Amber never realized there were so many positions, but eventually, Sonia told her, she would learn them all quickly enough, and more importantly, to respond without hesitation, else suffer the whip, or worse.
Later that morning, all of the slave girls, including Amber, were sent outside to work on the grounds. It was rumored that Dark Oak Manor would be hosting a party for a dozen or so prospective buyers, and they had a week to "tidy-up" the place inside and out.
Leaves were raked, the grass was cut, and hedges trimmed. Everyone worked in silence, but they were in good spirits in feeling the warm sun on their backs again after four days of gray skies and rain. Each girl was given a work tunic to wear, even the newcomers like Amber, who as a rule, had not earned the right to wear clothing yet, but on this day there would be an exception. The tunic was called a Ta-Teera, or "slave rag", which was really nothing more than a scrap of rep cloth with a hole in its center to be pulled over the head. It was sleeveless, without sides and quite brief with tears here and there to expose even more of the flesh underneath. A length of cord was tied about the waist to mold the tunic to the slave's body and enhance her curves. The cord could also be removed easily for binding.
Since Amber and Livia were the most recent arrivals, they had been given the
unpleasant and difficult task of cleaning out the stables.
"All slaves here are fully trained in both pleasure and work," Sonia told them, "so they may serve their new owners in all capacities, that includes tending to the horses and racking out the stalls if necessary."
Len was in charge of the stables and went over their chores -- rake out the stalls, and replace them with new hay, refill the water troughs, etc. He then left the girls alone to do their work.
Now the weather outside was a mild 78 degrees, but it was at least ten degrees warmer in the stable, and it didn't take long before they were sweating profusely in their tunics. In spite of the heat, Livia seemed very upbeat in being allowed to work without a chaperone, and was especially chatty as they raked out the stalls. Amber too, was enjoying the company after being isolated for so long. She hadn't realized until then, just how much she missed the idle chit-chat she used to have with her friends over lunch or on the phone. She grew to like Livia immensely, but wondered if the woman had forgotten about the "no talking" rule, and twice warned her quietly about this.
"It's OK," she said, "there are no cameras in here." Nonetheless, Amber listened politely, but kept her mouth shut, just in case.
Livia was from Munich, Germany, she told Amber (her accent gave this away immediately). She spoke much about her "past life” – how she moved to New York to become a model, but found more lucrative opportunities working as an exotic dancer for a high-end strip club called The Diamond Cabaret. She seemed especially proud that Sonia was having her trained to be a Gorean dancer, "which is a hundred times more exciting to watch than any dancing I did in the club."
Amber listened quietly, while admiring how the loose-fitting tunic shifted around her companion's body as she worked. Livia was clearly the most exotic-looking of all the girls she had seen so far. She had a prominent nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and a unique set of large captivating green eyes. Her 5'7" body was sleek and leggy, and the day Amber had first seen her in the nude, she immediately noticed her navel piercing and the spiky tribal tattoo stretched across the left side of her lower pelvis. Whatever a Gorean dancer was, Livia seemed to fit the role perfectly.
She explained to Amber it was the dancers that usually brought in higher prices at the auctions. She described the beauty of Gorean dance, of its sensuousness, and how the woman appeared; the moving of the hips, the belly, indeed the entire body; movements reminiscent of love and need. Whether clothed or unclothed, it could be very exciting, for the viewer and dancer both.
"I once had a private session with Master Raven. Never before had I felt so turned on when dancing until I performed the Gorean for him, and I could see he was feeling it too. For the first time it seemed like I was in control, and that I had the power to drive any man with mad desire just by dancing for them."
"You almost make it sound poetic," Amber commented briefly.
"I actually DO write poems," Livia said proudly. I always have, since I was a girl. Master Raven wants me to write one about my experiences here after my training is complete, and when I do, I think I'll write about my dancing. He loves poetry, did you know that?"
Amber shook her head no. She wanted to ask Livia what happened after her dance with Raven, but before she could, Len returned to check on their progress. He remained there in the livery with them while they finished their chores in silence, his dark, weasel eyes staring intently. Twice, Amber looked down at the scrap of rag she wore, outrageously brief, so scandalous, so shameful, fit only for a slave girl. Even when compared to the likes of the man staring at her, she would be looked down upon, as something to merely gawk at, or abuse.
After finishing the livery, Amber and Livia were sent back to the house where Raven was waiting the them, sitting on the porch, in a white wicker chair with a glass of chardonnay in his hand.
"Livia," he ordered, "come here and Present."
Livia quickly approached him and knelt down before his feet, then bent over and stretched her arms in front of her. In doing so, the seam in her tunic opened, baring her flanks, yet she made no effort to cover herself.
"Where you talking to Amber in the livery this morning?"
"Yes Master."
"And were you given permission to talk?"
"No Master, I was not."
"There will be punishment for that later," he said, "now go back to your cell."
"Yes Master, thank you, Sir."
Amber was not amazed to see how deathly pale Livia looked as she turned to enter the house. She knew that any punishment from Raven was not to be taken lightly. He turned his attention to Amber and sat back in his chair, but he said nothing, as if contemplating what to do with her. Amber met his gaze for what seemed to be an endless time until she remembered it was forbidden to look at anyone above the belt, especially Raven. She quickly dropped her gaze and closed her eyes tight, but it was too late. Then she heard him laugh,
"It appears there is a lot of work yet to be done with you," he said in a sinister tone. "Perhaps we should begin right now."
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Inside the house, Sonia poured herself a drink at the bar. She knew Raven was speaking to Amber and Livia outside, and being the head trainer, she should have been with him, but she really wanted no part of it. She was still angry with him for taking Amber away from her, then saddling her with the nearly impossible task of finishing Livia's training within the span of a week to meet some deadline he had promised a client.
But that wasn’t the only reason Sonia was angry. Since the first night Amber arrived, Raven hadn’t so much as touched her, and mostly likely would not again now that his attentions were directed to the girl. Sonia hated him for treating her like some throw-away toy, and hated herself even more for allowing it to happen. In spite of her anger though, she still longed for him.
Sonia knew their affair was unhealthy and dangerous. The Organization, as it was called, never tolerated such behavior. In her twenty years of working for them, she recalled stories about love triangles that existed between the master, mistress and a slave, and those relationships always lead to the most destructive behavior among the three. In one case, the madam became insanely jealous of the slave/lover and killed her outright. Events like this made the Board of Directors very nervous.
Of course, Sonia would never do something as stupid and irrational as that, but she could feel the grip on her own emotions loosening. What she needed was to get away from Raven, or perhaps leave Dark Oak Manor for good and go back to working in the field. She enjoyed being a free agent and her own boss, but she also knew that leaving her duties here, even for a short time, would only make the situation worse for her.
For over 40 years The Organization had thrived in the business of training and selling human slaves for one reason -- the strict code of secrecy all members lived by. It was a code that applied to everyone, from the board members, all the way down to the trainers and handlers. If any threat to its security were uncovered, such as a suspected informant, that threat was swiftly handled by simply eliminating all parties involved. This rule also applied to any irrational behavior that might compromise their security. Over the years, there had been several cases where the FBI came dangerously close to uncovering their activities, only to run into a dead end after a suspect or snitch they were working on suddenly disappeared without a trace. So with that in mind, Sonia had no intention of risking such a fate on herself, which meant asking Raven for leave of absence was completely out of the question.
"Like it not, I'm stuck here," she mumbled softly and poured herself another drink.
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"Remove your tunic," Raven ordered.
Amber untied the belt cord, then pulled the loose garment over her head and handed to him.
"A slave is owned, and owns nothing," he lectured her, "but the master can allow her to wear clothing, or jewelry if that is his wish. Even this rag I hold is treasured by the slave, because it is a signal of her master's satisfaction. Now tell me, slave, do you deserve to wear this rag?"
"No Sir," Amber stood like a statue before him, naked and sweating in the hot sun with her eyes cast downward.
"That's right," he tossed the tunic aside. "You disobeyed the rules of the house, not only once, but twice - first you spoke to another slave without permission, then you failed to address me properly. For this you will be marked and then you will remain here naked so everyone can see your punishment. Now come with me."
Raven took Amber firmly by the arm and directed her to the wicker chair.
"Stand astride the seat," he ordered, "facing the back of the chair and sit down."
Amber did this by widening her stance with the chair underneath her before taking her seat.
"Reach over the back and grasp the legs as close as you can to the floor."
Draping her arms over the back of the chair, she strained to reach down as far as she could and took of each chair leg. She was now leaning forward with her breasts pressing against the chair back, and her knees spread wide on its seat.
"Hold that position."
Sitting on the porch next to the house was a long chest that appeared to be used for holding firewood. Raven open the chest and pulled out several coils of hemp rope. He tied Amber's wrists and ankles, then her knees the chair legs beneath her. Another long piece of rope was looped tightly several times around her lower back and the back of the chair. The ropes forced her to arch her upper body sharply forward, crushing her breasts against the wicker, with her thighs still spread wide, and her pert ass tilted slightly upward and invitingly from the seat.
"You know you have done wrong, don't you?"
"Yes, Sir, I do," Amber's voice was weak.
Raven cradled her chin in one hand and spoke calmly, "and do you accept the punishment you are about to receive?"
"Yes, Sir," Amber searched her memory for the proper response, "I accept whatever punishment you . . . deem fit to inflict on me."
"Very good, slave."
Amber felt her heart beating hard against her chest. He was teasing her to heighten the moment, and it was working. She knew what was about to happen, and it terrified her, but at the same time she was also getting very aroused by it. Being naked outdoors excited her. Feeling the wicker poking into her soft breasts, against her open thighs, and . . . down there excited her.
Raven moved around the chair, beyond her line of sight, and then re-appeared. He now held in his hand, a long bamboo rod.
"Do you know what caning is?"
"No, Sir."
Raven paused a moment for the word to sink in.
"It is a form of punishment used primarily in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Administered to the back or buttocks, it could be very painful, and if the skin was broken, it could leave angry red welts on the body. Sometimes those welts turn to scars that last for life. Having heard this, do you think I've chosen the right punishment for you?"
Amber was suddenly aware of how her ass jutted out behind her in the chair and how vulnerable it was. She began pulling the ropes on her wrists.
"Answer the question, slave," he circled behind her again.
"Yes, Sir."
"Say it."
She closed her eyes tight, "You have chosen the right punishment for me, Sir."
“Very well, then.”
Amber waited and listened to the sounds of her own breathing, now quickening with a mixture of excitement, anticipation and the fear of what was to come. The wait didn't take long.
Whooooooooosh . . . SNAP!
A split second later she felt the sharp sting of the bamboo rod. Amber had never experienced pain as intense as this before. It burned and felt as though the taut flesh on her ass had split in two. Twice again, the bamboo rod landed across it, shifting from one bare cheek to the other.
Whooooooooosh . . . SNAP! Whooooooooosh . . . SNAP!
She cried out. Her body jerked against the wicker chair, her muscles tensed. She tried to escape the torture by shifting from side to side an inch or two against the ropes, but all that seemed to do was present him with a more tempting target – not to mention the wicker underneath was driving her crazy.
"Had enough?"
"Y-yes, Sir!"
"You know how to stop this, don't you?"
"Sir how? How can I . . ."
Whooooooooosh . . . SNAP!
"Aahhhhhh . . . Sir?"
Raven leaned close and slipped his hand between her opened legs.
"Well, well," he teased, "I think you really are enjoying this."
"NO, Sir . . ." she wriggled defiantly, trying to pull her wetted love away from his touch.
"But this tells me different." He plunged two fingers into her, and at the same time struck her again.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh . . . Ohhhhhhh!"
In spite of the pain and anguish, Amber felt her own body betray her, in the way it trickled wetness down Raven's hand as he worked her with both fingers, moving in and out, stimulating her.
"So, my pretty slave, this DOES turn you on?"
"Oh no, Sir, it HURTS!"
Her words however were not entirely sincere as she was now moving her thighs against his hand. Two more fingers slid into her with no effort she was so turned on.
"Do you realize why you are being punished?"
"Yes, Sir."
He stroked her scarred ass with the other hand, his loving touch stimulated the stings, making the pain melt to sensual tingles.
"Address me properly, slave."
"Yes, Master!"
Raven stopped all of his movements and stepped back.
"See, my slave, how easy it was to stop. All you had to do was call me, 'Master.' Remember that next time."
"Oh yes, Master," Amber said with a breathy whisper.
He watched as her shoulders slumped and her head dropped against the chair, then a smile crossed his face.
"You want more, much more," he said, "I can see that because I know you so well. You’re no different than any slave we bring here. I think you know that by now."
Amber didn't need to be told of this. They DID know her, all too well, even more than she knew herself. Raven and Sonia had tapped into, and exposed a side of her that she never knew existed. It made her feel naked and vulnerable. Amber (the old Amber) wished she could lock it away again and forget, but like an old river dike, plagued with holes and crumbling before her eyes, there was no way she could hold it back.
Raven left her there, tied to the wicker chair for almost an hour, like a child left alone to think about why she had been punished. She felt the wounds on her poor tush begin to swell and rise. Amber wondered if she would be scarred down there for the rest of her life, as Raven had warned.
Around the grounds, the daily chores went on as usual. Monique was pushing the hand mower while Marin raked the freshly-cut grass clippings. Amber thought it funny that with all of the cash coming into this place, they couldn't afford a decent mower with a grass catcher. Perhaps Raven preferred it that way. The quiet setting she was observing from the porch wouldn't be so quiet with an electric mower buzzing loudly in the yard. She saw two male peacocks on the grounds, their tail feathers brightly colored in blue and green. They followed Marin as she worked, and poked their beaks through the grass clippings in search of food. Further out toward the drive, Tony was trimming the hedges. A horse whinnied from inside the stable nearby.
Yes, everything looked serene, except for one part of the picture. Beyond the edge of the woods and just within eyesight, Amber could see Len, having himself a good hump with the pretty Asian slave, Shii Ann. He was on his knees with his trousers pulled down just enough to expose himself. She, on the other hand, was naked, and on all fours with her elbows and knees almost buried in the wet leaves. Her body rocked violently as he plowed into her, his bony thighs slapping against her upturned ass. Her breasts hung down into the weeds like cones, and shook wildly with each thrust.
All this was happening in the open while everyone worked, yet no one seemed to take notice. The fact that Amber, herself, was the only one watching made her feel a little ashamed, as if she were spying on the couple during a very intimate moment, even though it was all happening in front of her. Twice she turned her eyes away, but each time, felt compelled to look again. She watched as Len withdrew himself, his cock still erect and well-lubricated from Shii Ann’s pussy, then re-inserted it, this time, into the smaller, tighter hole above it. He placed one hand on her back and forced her head down into the weeds to make the angle of entry more accessible. It took some difficulty, but he managed to slid his member full length into the narrow passage. Again her body jerked and rocked. Len fondled both round cheeks almost lovingly with his hands as he bore into her ass. Shii Ann's moon face was completely hidden by the weeds now, so there was no way of telling if she was enjoying the act, or merely tolerating it.
Amber remembered hearing once, that sometimes the handlers were allowed "a little taste" or perhaps an evening with the girl of their choice. It was also no secret that Len had an interest in Shii Ann, and as a man equally revolting in character as he was in appearance, he would never have won over the affections of such a pretty girl on his own.
She thought of Shane, and wondered what Raven's reaction would be if he had found out what happened two nights ago. Several times, Amber wanted to tell someone about the incident, but then thought the better of it. After all, she might be punished too, or even treated differently, that is, more harshly by the other handlers if they were to find out. Amber was also convinced that she was not the only one Shane had raped, and if the other girls weren't talking, then why should she?
Looking of to the woods again, she saw that Len had finished his hump and was zipping up his trousers. Shii Ann got up from the weeds slowly, and without a word, she threw on her tunic then joined the others in their work, as if nothing had happened.
Amber remained tied the chair for another twenty minutes or so when a dark green Jaguar drove up to the house. She watched a man emerge from the vehicle and climb the steps to the porch were Raven came out of the house to greet him. The two men shook hands and entered the house without giving Amber much notice. She heard very little of what the men said to each other, other than Raven calling him "Mr. Santos," and then mentioning something about having a drink and waiting from him in the sitting room while "I tend to another matter."
Ten minutes later, Sonia was finally sent out to untie her.
"Let's get you down to your cell and put something on these wounds," she said, frowning at the red welts. "I don't think these will scar, but it will hurt awhile. Next time you won't be so lucky."
Then there was a sound of contempt in her voice. "I will no longer be training you. For now on, you will in the care of Master Raven, so I suggest you keep your mouth shut and listen to everything he says, understood?"
"Yes, Mistress."
Sonia led Amber by her leash back down to the cellar where the slaves’ quarters were located. As they moved passed each room, Amber noticed Livia's door was shut. Behind it, she heard a snap followed by a muffled whimper, then another snap, and another. Amber knew the sound all too well by now. It was that of something hard, whistling through the air and striking human flesh -- a bamboo rod perhaps. Livia was obviously getting the punishment Raven promised her, and the sounds continued as Sonia and Amber continued down the short hallway until they reached her own room. By then the whimpers behind them had turned to screams.
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FBI Headquarters, J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. –
Special agent Philip Trask leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable as he opened the computer file on Amber Brkich. His partner, Joe Kelly, was seated at his own desk nearby with his feet up, and glancing at the clock every two minutes or so. It was 6:28 in the evening, and Trask would stay late as usual, but Kelly had a wife two daughters waiting for him at home.
"So how many times have you gone through that file?" Kelly asked.
"More then I can count."
"And do you really expect to find any new leads?"
"Couldn't hurt to take another look."
"But it's getting late," Kelly persisted. "Why don't you knock off and go home for the night. There's nothing there that can't wait until tomorrow, right?"
Trask didn't answer.
The two agents had been working cases together for over five years, which intrigued everyone, because they were about as different as night and day. Trask was the Steve McQueen/Sam Spade type -- out-spoken, a risk taker, and either highly respected or disliked depending on who was asked at the Bureu. Kelly, on the other hand, was more laid-back and somewhat of a slacker, especially when it came to his paperwork. But on the street, everyone could always depend on him for back-up, no matter how dangerous the situation.
"You can go ahead and take off," Trask finally answered, still staring at the computer screen, "I'm just going to take one last look at this file."
"Well, if you say so," Kelly rose from his desk, stretched and grabbed his coat. "How about coming to the house later for a beer?"
"Thanks, but I'm beat. I'll take a rain check on that, though. Say 'hi' to Lindsey and the kids for me."
"Will do."
After his partner left, Trask turned his attention again to the new file:
Amber Joy Brkich
Age: 23
Hometown: Beaver, PN (suburb just north of Pittsburgh)
Occupation: Administrative Assistant . . .
He skimmed the whole 'bio' then scrolled back up to the woman's photo, and smiled briefly at the green-eyed dimpled girl grinning back at him. The girl was very attractive, but not in a flashy way. Trask could imagine this one working for some charitable cause, and with that innocent ‘school girl’ look, she could sell just about anything she put her mind to.
That thought made her story all the more tragic. It was just a few days ago, when she disappeared, vehicle and all, while en route from her sister’s house in Albany, New York to her current residence near Pittsburgh.
Suddenly, his sight became bleary, as the words on the screen circled and mingled in front of him. Trask leaned back in his chair again, pressing his palms into his tired eyes. He held them there for a while before releasing his hands, then pulled up the next file to search for any comparisons.
There were a total of six cases so far, all of them female:
Shii Ann Huang, Age 26, an executive recruiter with a BA from the University of California, Berkeley.
Livia Choice (obviously a stage name), worked as an exotic dancer in New York.
Jerri Manthey, Age 28, Bartender/Student Actress, Los Angeles . . .
Elisabeth Filarski, Age 23, Footwear Designer, Boston . . .
And finally, Audrey Marie Anderson, the oldest case in their files. She disappeared in Austin, Texas, while grocery shopping almost 2 years ago.
At first glance, one could see no reason to believe these cases could be linked together. For one thing, each disappearance happened in a different part of the U.S., and there were no similarities in the victims' work or social habits. Even their physical descriptions varied.
But there was one similarity -- in all 6 cases, witnesses remembered seeing a black, unmarked van at the victim’s residence, parked for hours, sometimes even days before she disappeared.
That coincided with a report filed over a year ago regarding an informant who told the Bureau about an underground sex slave ring called The Organization. In his statement, he mentioned that “vans” were often used to stalk, kidnap, and then transport young women to different locations all across the U.S. where they were auctioned off as slaves. The informant said little about his own involvement with The Organization – only that he had once attended one of these auctions.
Stories like this were nothing new to the Bureau, for rumors of such activity first began to surface over thirty years ago, but there was never any evidence to bring this case out of the 'dead file'. This “organization” as it was loosely called was like a phantom, wrapped in mafia-style secrecy, and the few witnesses that did surface all disappeared mysteriously before the Bureau could bring them in, including the one that had told them about the vans.
Nonetheless, The deputy director in the Washington Bureau wanted to keep the case open, and assigned it to Trask and Kelly, with instructions to look into it when their workload was light. In other words, "Put it on the back-burner, but keep an eye on it, in case something boils up."
Agent Trask was not one to handle any case half-assed though. He looked into the story about the vans by checking the national database for any unsolved disappearances that involved such a vehicle. He found six cases so far, the most recent one being Amber Brkich, who disappeared only a few days ago. That one happened to come across his desk just by shear luck, when a friend of his in the Pittsburg P.D., who happened to be filling out the report, sent him a copy of the file.
The van theory was not much to go on, but Trask was convinced these disappearances were linked to the case he and Kelly were assigned to. Unfortunately, without a plate number, there was no way of tracking these vehicles, and that brought them to a dead end, at least for now.
Trask rubbed his eyes again and sighed.
Just then, Stella, one of the other agents, popped her head in and shook it as she watched him.
"Everyone's leaving, Trask, get out of here," she said.
"You're still here," he replied not looking up.
"Yeah, but I'm leaving right now. Go home."
With that, Stella walked out and Trask couldn't keep the smile from gracing his face. Stella was a petite-looking, twenty-something blonde, but tough as nails. He shut off his computer, then stood up and reached for his keys. As he was rounding his desk and walking out the door the phone rang. He thought about picking up the receiver, but decided to let the machine handle it.
Like his partner said earlier -- it could wait until tomorrow.
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When Monique entered her room, Amber was laying face-down on the cot, her arms and legs strapped to each corner of the bed frame. She had been left unclothed and uncovered to give the fresh wounds from her cropping a chance to breath. Amber thought it would be days before she could even sit down, let alone lie on her back.
Monique moved quietly to her bed and undid the straps. She was dressed in a long red cape with a high collar.
"Here," she said softly, "put this on and come with me." Draped over one arm was a matching garment.
She attached the red cape to Amber's collar and draped it over her shoulders. She then guided Amber up the cellar steps. The capes covered their bodies completely, but opened when they walked revealing their naked legs underneath. They climbed the narrow steps out of the cellar. Another rainstorm was passing. Amber could hear it outside as they crossed the foyer and entered 'the grand room', where a fire crackled in the large canopied fireplace.
Seated in front, were Raven and the man Amber had seen earlier. Both were dressed in silk robes and holding a glass of cognac in one hand. Monique made her walk forward until she was in front of fire so the two men could get a good look at her in the light. They approached her, Raven from behind and the other man off to her right. Two hands parted her cape. She could feel the heat from the fire on her newly bared flesh. The other man moved closer. His hands touched and fondled her breasts, then descended down to the V of her body and penetrated her. The move was so abrupt that Amber drew a breath.
"Nice slit," he commented in an accent that sounded Spanish. "Does she respond?"
"Instantly," Raven answered.
"Good. Let me see the other hole."
“Be my guest.”
Blushing at his crude language, Amber was turned around, her cape lifted aside, then forced to bend over.
"I apologize for the marks," Raven explained, "as I mentioned earlier, she had to be disciplined for speaking out of turn."
"It’s always a nice touch though. Has she been stretched?"
"Only slightly . . . enough to handle YOU, my friend."
Both men laughed.
Amber felt her face burning from embarrassment as they the other man's hands parted her cheeks to expose her puckered hole, which freshly shaved, was now a smooth as the front of her body.
"Yes, very nice," he commented again. "I think I'll have this one tonight."
Amber was then pushed toward the other man, who was untying his robe. As he leaned back on a chair, the robe fell open. He was tall, lean and dark skinned. His body was hairless, with the exception of his the pubic area.
"Down on your knees," Raven ordered.
Gently, he motioned Amber to kneel on the carpet before the man so that her face was only inches away from him.
"Now take him into your mouth," Raven continued, "and make sure you use that pretty tongue of yours."
Amber brushed her lips against his cock, then parted her lips and drew the muscled organ into her mouth.
"That's it," Raven praised her, "take all in."
The man's hands found her shoulders, tightening his grip as part of his self-control slipped. Then she felt his fingers become entangled in her long, chestnut hair. Tears streamed down her face each time the swollen member struck the back of her throat, depressing her tongue, and making her gag. Amber remembered very little after that. It was as if her mind had just shut down, refusing to acknowledge what was happening to her. She recalled only fragments - the soft crackle of burning logs in the fire, the rain outside hitting the windowpanes. Suddenly her lover groaned, his body tensed, and before she could pull her mouth away, she felt the warm fluid stream down her throat. His hands held her head still, forcing her to receive the discharge and causing her to feel nauseous. When his hands released her, Amber fell back and almost fainted.
"Very impressive," Raven commented, "for a beginner. Now watch and learn."
He snapped his fingers at Monique and pointed to a glass coffee table nearby.
"Sula-Renata!"
Monique moved to the table and sat down on one edge. She then extended her legs out and hooked her knees around the sides to keep them locked, spreading her round thighs over the glass top. Raven approached her, then removed her cape. Monique sat there nude and motionless while he circled the table, facing her. Amber could hear her own heart pounding in her ears as he parted his robe. Her eyes traced the contours of his lean, rigid body. The scars seemed even more pronounced then she remembered - one just below the left chest, the other, circling around his shoulder. His long cock was already erect and pointing proudly at Monique's lovely face. Her lips parted slowly as she looked up at him, her tongue flicked out to moisten her lower lip. The subtle invitation drew Raven closer to her.
Her gaze dropped to his throbbing muscle, and he shuddered as though she had touched him. Slowly, she lifted both hands to stroke the shaft, examining it as if for the first time. One hand slid down and caressed his balls. Amber's breathing shallowed as she watched Monique bring her mouth closer. She saw her tongue dart out and gently lick the drop of moisture that had gathered at its tip. Raven brought his hands down and almost lovingly ran them through her golden hair. Monique took her time. She let her tongue trace the sensitive ring around his cock-head, flicking, teasing it unbearably until she suddenly sank her mouth over his cock. Raven stiffened and threw back his head with a strangled moan, clutching her shoulders now with his powerful hands. Monique didn't wait for him to recover, but started bobbing her head and swirling her tongue madly against the underside of his cock. Raven's hips started thrusting involuntarily, trying to force as much as possible of himself down her throat. But she wasn't having any of that! She took hold of his hips firmly and held him still.
Raven may have been her Master, but Monique was in control now. She pulled back and plunged down again and again, her lips squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. Her hands crept around to pull his hips towards her, taking more and more of him in until his entire length slid easily down her throat. His hips found the rhythm, moving with her towards his climax. He threw back his head again, his body arching like a taut bow. A grimace etched itself on his face as he tried to fight the inevitable, then with a groan, every muscle in his rigid body seemed to tense up, followed by the sucking sounds as Monique swallowed his release effortlessly.
The women were then dismissed. Monique immediately retrieved her cape and guided Amber out of the room while both men settled back into their chairs with drinks in hand. Amber overheard them comment on each girl's technique. Monique, of course, was praised for her efforts, and Amber, while inexperienced, still showed enough promise to draw the other man's interest. As they rounded the corner, Raven and his guest were already debating what price the new girl might fetch at the next auction.
(continued)
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