Holly's Home Invasion
Part 13
by Andromeda
The slavegirl stepped forward, knife in hand. It was Brenda, the redheaded woman
whom Karen had assigned to prepare me for raping.
'Lucky you,' she whispered excitedly as she cut the cords that confined me in
the slave coffle, 'you're going to be the belle of the ball.' A three-foot
length of rope was left hanging from my collar. The slavegirl gave it a brief
tug. 'This one stays on for now along with your collar,' she told me cheerfully,
'might have to use it later.'
The belle of the ball, I thought bitterly, tied up, gagged and stripped for rape
with a rope dangling from my neck. I stood fearfully in front of the slave
trainer, mouth taped and hands tied behind me while he inspected my naked body.
I saw him run his eyes over my breasts then tuck the cane under his arm. I
shrank back in my bonds as he seized my tits and felt them up.
'What about her hands, Master Jim?' Brenda asked as she swiftly recoffled Beth
and Belinda to the other captives, 'do you want them as they are or retied
behind her neck, the way you usually do it?'
'Behind the back is fine,' the slaver replied absently as he kneaded and fondled
my breasts, hefting them in his hands as though he were estimating their weight.
'Good tits,' he commented at length, 'how old is this slave?'
I felt Brenda's hands at my wrists behind me, handling my tag. 'About 40, Master
Jim,' she replied.
'And the slave's name is?'
'Holly, sir.'
'Your tits have a pleasant consistency, Slave Holly,' he told me. I reddened as
his fingers slowly stroked my nipples, raising them to erection. 'And your nips
harden nicely when they're stimulated. Outstanding pair of breasts. I want this
capture escorted to the demonstration area,' he told the slavegirl, indicating
the solitary table that stood by the wall facing the video camera. 'Shackle her
ankles and tie her down for back entry. After that, you can go and assist your
team with the others while I make my opening remarks. I'll call on you to do the
vaginal handling when I'm ready.'
Brenda gripped my elbow. 'Make sure you behave yourself,' she whispered, 'and
above all don't struggle. Master Jim loves caning slaves. And he does it hard.
He's done it to me. It hurts, believe me.' As she hustled me toward the table, I
glanced back at the cane, wondering fearfully how it would feel to be struck
with it, trying to imagine its swift painful impact on my bound and helpless
body. It didn't bear thinking about. I could see the slaver walking behind us,
slipping on a pair of disposable rubber gloves as he followed us to the table.
'I need you to bend over and spread your legs, sweeetie,' Brenda told me. I
placed my head down on the tabletop submissively and parted my legs while the
slave girl stooped down behind me and quickly shackled my ankles to the table
legs. I could feel the metal cuffs bite into my flesh as I twisted my head to
peer up at the flat TV screen on the wall above. There I was, viewed from the
rear with my naked body bent over, my legs splayed, my ass and vagina
humiliatingly raised and displayed in sharp digital detail for the benefit for
every single rapist in the room. It was horribly mortifying. I lowered my head.
I wanted to die.
'Try not to move around,' Brenda murmured as she tied off my neck cord at the
far end of the table. She tugged at the knots then circled behind me and patted
my ass. 'Be good,' she said, 'I'll be back in a minute to lube you up.' I
squirmed helplessly in my bonds as I lay on the table top, unable even to raise
my head. I could see the flash of white silk under the slavegirl's pleated
miniskirt as she trotted off to join her three companions who were already
herding the column of gagged and naked women toward the raping tables. Beth and
Belinda were staring at my helplessly bound body as they were dragged forward in
the coffle, their eyes wide and frightened over their gag straps. The slave
girls lined up their charges side by side facing the tables, then, at a signal
from their leader, they swung into action. They were horribly well trained and
efficient. Working in sync, they forced the bound and coffled women to bend over
at their waists and lay their heads on the tabletops. Heartrending cries of pain
and distress issued from gagged mouths as raised buttocks were mercilessly
cropped and quivering legs swiftly kicked apart. Hinged cuffs were produced and
ratcheted quickly around each victim's ankles to fetter them to those of the
victims on either side and create a hideous human latticework of quivering
buttcheeks and shackled legs. I watched in horror as the roped and fettered
captives were jerked and tugged apart to splay out their thighs and tighten the
cords at their necks to prevent them from raising themselves off the raping
tables. When the slave girls had finished their task, the eleven women stood
helplessly bent over in a row with their necks tightly confined in coffle
cordage, their legs splayed to the rear and cuffed at the ankles, their roped
wrists twisting helplessly behind their backs and their crotches raised and
pushed out to exhibit their asses and vaginas. It was a horrifyingly inhuman
spectacle, a humiliating and degrading display of helplessly exposed female
flesh. I turned my face away, all too aware that I too stood similarly bent over
with my ass and vagina pushed out and presented for raping except that my own
humiliation was even worse. It was being taped and displayed on a monitor on the
wall above my head. The slave trainer, Master Jim, was speaking into a
microphone. His voice boomed out over the din.
'This is Slave Holly, gentlemen, the defective I was telling you about. Notice
the ass and the legs, shapely and attractive despite the slave's age which is
about 40. What's more, the breasts are still firm and well-formed as many of you
will have noticed when she was brought through. On the face of it, this slave
still has several years of useful life left before she needs to be retired. She
should, therefore, command a fairly decent price on the market. Yet Slave Holly
was very nearly retired by her captors earlier this evening and it was only with
some difficulty that we persuaded them to hand her over to us for possible
recovery and training. I'm now going to subject her to a quick examination to
determine her anal and vaginal parameters.'
I gasped as the slaver's fingers were inserted simultaneously and painfully into
my vagina and butthole, probing and reaming them thoroughly for several minutes
while I twisted helplessly in my restraints. My face was flushed with
embarrassment at being forced to suffer this indignity in front of a roomful of
men. That this degrading procedure was being taped and displayed on closed
circuit TV only served to rub salt into the wound. I bit down on my gag and
ground my wrists against my ropes, using the pain to try and block out the waves
of shame and humiliation that welled up inside me.
'The T&L examination shows the subject's vagina to be fairly flabby with very
little in the way of natural lubrication,' the slave trainer lectured
professorially, 'what's more, the anal passage requires a good deal of loosening
up before it can be used. This is as expected and pretty much accounts for the
slave's classification as a defective. But is this cursory examination
sufficient, gentlemen?'
The slaver withdrew his fingers and peeled off his gloves. Over by the row of
tables, the four slavegirls were moving quickly down the chain of bound and bent
over victims, busily masturbating vaginas and massaging lubricant into raised
and defenseless buttholes. At the far right I could hear Beth's gag muffled
moans of distress as her privates were unceremoniously lubricated and
masturbated to prepare her for rape. Her raised buttocks bore the hideous red
stigmata of the cropping she'd been given while she was tied down. Then it was
Belinda's turn. I heard her gasp as one of the slavegirls, I could see it was
Brenda, applied a dab of lubricant to her anus. A moment later, groans of
undisguised pleasure slipped out from behind Belinda's gag as the slavegirl
massaged the lubricant vigorously into the lining of her ass and stimulated her
clitoris to coax out her vaginal secretions. I gazed askance at the former
school librarian. What I could see of her duct taped face on the tabletop was
flushed with arousal and lust. I shuddered as I recalled the obscene jet of
vaginal juices that had streamed out from between her legs when she'd been
masturbated against my living room wall. I was appalled that this depraved
creature could actually be enjoying the hellish assault on her dignity that was
being perpetrated in this awful place.
Behind me the slave trainer's voice boomed out through the public address
system. 'The question I'm trying to raise, gentlemen, is why? Why should a
potentially valuable item of merchandise be prematurely retired after what was
almost certainly a cursory and incomplete examination of her assets similar to
the one I've just carried out? Can we afford this sort of carelessness?' he
asked rhetorically. 'The short answer is that we can't. Times are changing
rapidly. Top quality captures are harder to come by. Digital Angels are being
aggressively marketed to allow police to locate our prey after capture. Law
enforcement officials are becoming more and more expensive and competition
within the slave trading community is becoming fiercer with each passing day.
All these negative trends will only get worse in the months and years ahead and
the upshot is that we need to regard each capture, each and every woman who
falls into our hands, as a potentially valuable piece of merchandise, even those
women whom we previously had the luxury of regarding as defectives. What I want
to bring out tonight is how we can turn a so-called defective into a productive
and marketable slavegirl. This is a two pronged program requiring an attack on
two fronts, vaginal and anal. In my experience it's always best to proceed with
the vaginal work first. Bear with me please.'
I felt a sudden surge of anger and resentment, of sheer indignation at the idea
that I was no longer a person, that I was now nothing but a potentially
"valuable item of merchandise" a potentially "productive and marketable
slavegirl." Suddenly, involuntarily almost, I strained at my bonds. I knew I was
securely and helplessly bound, that struggling was not only futile but that it
could even get me punished but I was consumed with rage and the urge to free
myself was overwhelming. Stabs of agonizing pain shot through my tightly bound
and lacerated wrists as I struggled desperately against my cruel and unyielding
bondage. After a moment I subsided in defeat, sobbing hopelessly into my gag.
'Notice how this slave is still attempting to free herself, even after hours of
restraint,' I heard the slave trainer comment impassively. 'As is usually the
case, bondage in itself is not enough to fully subdue a fresh capture, even when
the bonds are tightly and inescapably applied as is obviously the case here. The
problem resides in the slave's will. Her desire to resist and escape from her
predicament remains unbroken. Which brings me to my next point. Slave training
begins at capture and this applied to every capture, not just defectives. We
don't wait. As soon as a freshly captured slave has been bound and gagged,
discipline and obedience become job one. Breaking a slave's will to resist and
escape is as important as restraining her physically. To achieve that there is
only one technique that has stood the test of time. Correction and discipline,
swiftly and severly administered.'
I heard the swish of the cane a fraction of a second before I felt its impact.
Pain exploded in my ass, radiated in a thousand directions through my lower
body. It was horrendous. I cried out through my gag. Tears ran freely down my
cheeks onto the tabletop.
'For disciplinary purposes I personally favor the rattan cane,' I heard the
slaver remark coldly. 'Each individual stroke delivers a telling amount of
punishment to the target area. It doesn't just wound the skin, it damages the
underlying tissues and leaves the flesh severely marked with deep red welts that
take a long time to heal. Notice the pair of neatly parallel markings on the
subject's buttocks, two on each cheek, a characteristic signature of the cane.
Another characteristic of this correctional technique is the echo effect. The
pain of the initial impact is augmented by a secondary wave of pain about 7
seconds later as the numbed and bruised nerve endings start to react. The
subject is already in considerable pain. We can exploit the echo effect by
delivering another sharp blow to a different area of the buttocks. Like so.'
Again the terrible swishing sound followed by the impact. The explosion of pain
forced another muted cry of anguish from my muzzled mouth. It was too harsh, too
cruel. I wept brokenly. My shoulders heaved as I sobbed hopelessly into my gag.
'And now we wait seven seconds before delivering the third and final blow to the
same area as the first to amplify the pain with the echo from the second blow.
Watch closely please, gentlemen.'
I almost blacked out at the third stroke. It struck me directly over the bruised
flesh from the first stroke. The pain was unbearable. I screamed in agony
through my gagging cloths. The cloths muted my screams, allowing only muffled
grunts of pain to emerge from behind the tightly wadded panties that had been
packed inside my mouth.
'Observe the subject's reaction to her caning. As is usual in such cases she
resorts to tears in a futile attempt to win sympathy for her plight. Needless to
say, one or two more strokes on the same spot would open up the welt and cause
it to bleed. Should we go on? I don't think so. Our purpose here is disciplinary
and corrective, not overtly punitive. To cause severe injury to the slave at
this stage would be counterproductive, especially as we would wish to keep her
relatively fresh and ready for immediate sexual use. Slave Brenda, would you
come here please? I'm ready for you now.'
As I lay on the tabletop sobbing in agony and humiliation, I could hear the
clicking of Brenda's heels as she trotted up. Over by the tables, the men had
formed queues behind the bound captives and the first row of rapists was already
in position, their erect and throbbing members thrusting deeply into into their
victims' defenseless asses and vaginas. The raping had begun.
