PURVEYORS OF PAIN.
A torture story by Susan.

This is fantasy for adults. Doing anything like the acts featured in these stories would be insane and unforgivable, but in the mind, terror can be fun…fun that includes wild, disgusting, savage cruelty, insane torture and deaths.
This is for those who like to read of women in agony beyond imagining, dying slowly for the perverted pleasure of their killers.
Unless you enjoy such themes, please do not read further.

CHAPTER ONE. … Meet Karl and Samantha.

I.slipped my hand between my legs and had to do a little re-adjustment to the fabric of my panties where it had become rather wet and uncomfortable. The man with the whip smiled at me.
"You like what you see, Madame?"
I nodded. With my rather flushed face and the cloying perfume of arousal that wafted from beneath the tiny leather skirt I was wearing, there seemed little point in denying it.
My part in the present interrogation was to help Karl, the chief male assistant, adjust the machinery or re-fix the captive in whatever way the client requested.
Karl and I fuck regularly. Like me, he gets most of his sexual satisfaction from witnessing or actually inflicting torture to young women. If we are both turned on by a pretty bitch bleeding for us, we satisfy the lust in our loins by either fucking or enjoying mutual oral relief. This is, of course, if the bitch we are hurting is too far gone to give us satisfaction from raping one or other of her tender holes.
Oh, and don't think because I'm a woman that I can't do rape. I can do it for longer and in more horrible ways than any man when I strap on one of my many speciality accessories! Later I may tell you more about them…..
Sometimes we know the clients well.
Many are regulars with whom we have very personal arrangements. I think I am the Number One mistress of about eighteen gentlemen of wealth and power, all of whom would have me killed…..probably very slowly……if I was stupid enough to even suggest that they had any connection with POP.
Sorry. I forgot to explain.
POP is a rather exclusive club.
"Purveyors of Pain"…….. we provide wealthy sadists of either sex with male or female companions they can use to inflict pain upon, everything from a man who lets a cruel lady drip hot candle wax on his cock before he fucks her to a teenage runaway who can be butchered, cooked, and eaten at a gala torture feast.
We aren't the first or the only ones to provide similar services, but we have a slight edge on most in that we have total security for the acts of cruelty and absolute safety regarding the disposal of evidence.
It started with my father, really.
I didn't know, of course.

We were rich. He ran a shipping company.

I went to a very expensive Swiss school for young ladies, and I had about five "mothers" as Daddy somehow lost or divorced each one for a new model.
We had a very large and fast luxury yacht for the family's use.

Holidays cruising the Greek islands or swanning off to the Bahamas.
And there was a section below decks I was forbidden to enter.
I met Karl, son of one of my father's important clients, on one of those cruises. He was about my age and we became really good friends.
It was Karl who told me what went on in the "forbidden" cabins. He had seen his father and mine whip a young girl who was strapped over a steel frame. He had found the sight very erotic and told me how he had played with himself as he watched the girls' naked bottom turn from creamy white globes into swollen red-striped mounds of pain.…….
I was sixteen at the time, madly in love with one of the female sports teachers at the academy, not interested in boys, but surprisingly well read when it came to perverse sexual practices.
The library at our young ladies' school had three long shelves filled with well written erotica in French, Italian, German, and English. The unabridged works of De Sade, the Story of "O", numerous texts detailing all forms of sexual aberration, much of the documentation from war crime trials, and a fiction section which included many erotic books not normally available to young ladies.
People who do not move amongst the upper echelons of society do not realize how frequently those wealthy and seemingly moral folk are the most likely to belong to all forms of slightly depraved clubs and cliques.
We can afford the thrills that the working class aspire to, enjoy them frequently enough for boredom to set in, then seek new enjoyments beyond the reach of the common man.

Please forgive me if this sounds arrogant, but I seek to explain why the offspring of the wealthy find it fairly normal to have access to literature and events which would be considered improper by their less affluent peers.

Hunting, shooting, fishing for the boys. Fashion, travel, and exotic partying for the girls.

Spending rather excessive amounts of cash until Daddy puts his foot down.

Being an awful tease to the boys, or, in my case, treating them more as friends because I found the idea of making love much more exciting if it could be with a woman.
I was rather interested in the idea of seeing another naked girl, and not really concerned about father whipping her…..a youthful "whatever turns you on" attitude, perhaps. So I persuaded Karl to take me with him on a visit to the forbidden zone.
He had taken impressions of a special key and had one made up. Terribly exciting. We were like spies in a cheap thriller, creeping down the corridors below decks a while after seeing our fathers descend to the secret area.
Which was when we both saw our naked fathers sharing the unfortunate girl between them. Literally.
She was hanging from a harness around her upper torso, my father raping her from the rear, Karl's dad entering her in front. Blood was running from the lower edge of the harness contraption which appeared to be lined with steel spikes.
We watched from above and to one side…Karl had located a removable air grille which we were peering through.
We could hear the girl sobbing and pleading with them to let her down, and heard the men laugh and tell her she would think this was a picnic compared with what they were going to do to her next.
I had seen enough blue videos to know all about mens' cocks and the intimate details of their appendages and what they did with them. So had Karl.
It was rather strange to see my own father doing it, but I did not feel any pity for the girl. I watched Karl pull his own quite respectable cock from his shorts and, as he obviously found the scene very arousing, I sort of pictured myself down there with the men………..
Which I think was the first time I realized that I was a sadist.
A feeling of urgent sexual desire seemed to flow into my stomach from my vagina and spread upwards and outwards like a sudden flush. I had seen myself with a knife cutting her breasts.

Don't ask why. I had never imagined anything so cruel ever before.

But the picture in my brain made me groan and push the gusset of my shorts aside so I could delve my fingers into myself regardless of Karl's presence.
Our mutual learning curve steepened rapidly.
We actually witnessed the death of the girl, about four days before that cruise ended.
She was hardly recognisable as the two naked men took turns pushing hot irons into her flesh, moving down her torn body for what was clearly the ultimate penetrative branding when they simultaneously entered both lower orifices with glowing poker-like branding irons to finish her off.
Unbeknown to them, less than ten metres away, I was fiercely wanking Karl's solid penis for him as he finger fucked my soaking pussy in return.
We almost choked trying not to cry out with the powerful orgasms we shared. Usually the screams from below had covered any noise we made, but this time she was at last silent.
And on my seventeenth birthday, I had a present rarely if ever bestowed on a teenager before.
……………………………….

CHAPTER TWO:….Introduction to the Firm.

Karl had hired a prostitute in Cairo.
He had wanted to actually try whipping a real woman, and she had agreed for a considerable fee. But the silly bugger had not stopped when she said "enough" and had gone on until he had flogged the old bitch unconscious…………..
Her "minder" had threatened to kill him, there was talk of involving the police, large amounts of money were demanded, and, eventually, Karl's father was made aware that his young son had brutally beaten a Cairo whore with a horse whip.
So the story was known. To the parents. Not to me.

I was at classes in Switzerland, blissfully unaware that Karl was making some pretty serious admissions.
Admissions about the key.
About seeing that young ladies' demise.
And about me being in on it, too.
Which meant my father being made aware of my secret naughtiness.
All just a few weeks before my birthday.
In sublime ignorance of the truth being known, I had successfully seduced the sports teacher for whom I had carried a torch of lustful love for almost eighteen months.

She was my first mature female lover, and together we melted inhibitions to flow into each others' bodies like waves of molten lava. Unfortunately, she was married to a ski instructor who thought he was God's gift to womankind and flirted outrageously with all us students.

She seemed to find great satisfaction in having one of those pretty students as her lover. The girls all said that her husband was one of those all talk and no action men. By the way she enjoyed sex with me, they could have been right. Certainly no mere male could please her as I did.
I was almost heartbroken when I received the letter from my father instructing me to meet the yacht at Pireas….. A "birthday cruise" he told me…. I would rather have stayed at school and continued my wonderful love sessions with Carenia !
But it did mention that we would be picking up Karl and his parents from Cyprus, so I realized there might be a bit of that really naughty stuff to enjoy……….
(Not all cruises I had taken had included anything wicked happening in the secret quarters, but Karl had assured me he had seen things when I was not present).
I flew to Greece and was met at the airport to be whisked down the old port and transferred to our yacht.
Strangely, my latest "mother" was not on board.
In fact, it seemed almost as though there was a distinct lack of female company.
We set sail for Cyprus at once.
I had one of the crew unpack my cases and he was helping me put clothes away when Daddy walked in my cabin. He told the servant to leave and shut the cabin door.
"Seventeen in two days, Darling. And such a beautiful girl, too. But not one of those ordinary Swiss finishing school products, eh ? No dashing off to polo matches with eligible young men or sharing ski lodges in the States with a lot of Harvard types ?"
I had no idea what he was on about and did my charming daughter all-attentive smile routine.
His mobile buzzed and he broke off for a moment, then smiled and sat beside me.
"We are in International Waters now, just outside the ten mile limit. Do you know what that means, Darling?"
I shrugged. "We've left Greek jurisdiction ?"
"More or less, yes. Outside the ten mile zone, law becomes a lot more difficult to enforce. Things happen that would not be tolerated inshore and aground. Piracy. Still happens. Regular reports. Very difficult to do anything about it, though."
I confess, I had not the vaguest idea what he was talking about.
"So ?"
"Well, just saying…. I mean, suppose I saw a small boat and pulled alongside. Who do you think would do anything if I boarded her and robbed the occupants ?"
"The police wherever you next docked, I should think !"
"Only if they knew, Darling. I mean…well, I'm trying to let you see that things can happen at sea that no one would ever know about…..people could be robbed or…..or worse. It's…..well, there's a lot of water and not all of it is safe."
I suddenly had a sick sort of premonition. I'm sure my face must have gone white. The bastard was going to take me down to his little torture den and hurt me ! That's where those missing mothers had gone ! Oh, sweet Jesus, my father was a sadist and he fancied his own daughter as a victim…..
"But lot's of people know I'm here!" I gasped.
He looked at me in amazement, eyebrows raised, face puzzled. And then he suddenly laughed. Helplessly. So much that I started laughing, too, though I didn't know why.
"I………. Sam, you silly little bitch. I'm not going to hurt you….. I know….. I know you and Karl have watched Edrich and I playing games……I know you like it, thank God. I want to let you know why we do it…..everything….!"
Well, perhaps you may have a slight idea how relieved I was, and how terribly embarrassed at the same time.
How does a sixteen going on seventeen-year-old virgin start to talk to her father about being a Lesbian and enjoying sadism ? And it was not very comfortable having a father start to talk about how he ran a very profitable sideline murdering pretty girls with a collection of rich perverts.
When he told me my present was to be a blonde eighteen year old girl that Karl and I could do what we liked with, no questions asked, well……I began to feel a lot more confident.
So after an hour or so, we were talking about what we both found exciting when it came to torturing women and Dad had told me all about POP………..Purveyors of Pain !
A very exclusive club that only invited guests are permitted to join.

The rules are simple. Speak about POP to anyone not a member, and you and your family become participants in the games.

Only one man so far has committed this serious sin…..he watched his wife and thirty year old daughter plus two pre-teen grandchildren endure a six week cruise last Summer. They died very slowly throughout the cruise.

Three men of the family were also killed.

The present power of POP is awesome, due entirely to the wealth and position of those who enjoy its benefits. Contrary to what you may choose to believe, money can buy the power of death.
My father was one of the three original members of POP……….his boats provided the perfect location for perverted games out of sight of the law, and the oceans and their ravenous occupants provided a disposal system for corpses.
Two wives ended their lives on torture cruises, each having found out about POP and been unable to keep quiet about it.
Edrich, Karl's father, was another of the original trio, and his wife Olga actually approved of and joined in with his perversions. No wonder Karl was a sadist with that heritage.
I asked how he made sure the crew said nothing. They must know there were passengers who never completed some trips.
"Either they approve or have other secret habits I can let them enjoy. Your young cabin steward is a dreadful paedophile…hate them, myself, but he simply loves raping little girls of about five years old. The occasions arise when he can enjoy himself.
We often get family to be got rid of. No-one goes to waste. Two of the engine room hands have a thing about eating certain forbidden cuts of meat……….female arce and tits…………so, although the idea of whipping a pretty arse turns them off, cooking it is their Nirvana. "
And so it went on until my father asked me if I would like to become a member of the club.
"It would mean you could be in danger because you would know who some members are, and they are very nervous about that. We have lost a couple of friends because of pre-emptive strikes that we are sure were wrongly set in motion by other members."
"And what would I get out of it ?" I asked.
"Women to hurt. You would be invited to almost every torture session that takes place on board, I should think. Most of us would simply love having a young good looking girl like you help us play !"
"And all these men thinking I'd open my legs for them, too, I suppose !"
"Not really, Darling, though I'm sure all the men I know would love to bed you, but if you were a Mistress you could maintain your own control. It's a sort of accepted thing that a severe mistress only lets men between her legs if she wants them."
Well, we talked for ages and I realised that my life would be more exciting in the Club than out of it.
Money has never been a problem. Enjoying my perversions could be, but not if I was an integral part of POP. So I told my father that his club had a new member.
When the young steward returned to help pack away my clothes, I looked at him in a very different way. It was not easy to imagine him raping a schoolgirl, even more difficult to think that he knew his employer captured and killed innocent women.
When Karl and his parents joined us I did not find it at all difficult to accept that his mother was just like me……….more like me than I at first suspected, actually, because she told me that she enjoyed making love with another woman better than sex with Edrich.
They brought the girl on board. A year older than I then was, good looking, full figured, Swedish au pair material smuggled from Turkey and never designed for anything other than sex.
Karl and I stripped and tormented her together. He fucked her. I raped her with dildoes. We made her perform cunnilingus and fellatio by the simple expedient of giving her electric shocks on her pussy lips until she begged for mercy and swore to obey any command. It was far better than our dirtiest dreams had suggested.

We had a bit of a shock at how messy it got when we got a bit over enthusiastic whipping her until she bled rather a lot, but Daddy arranged for a couple of cabin crew to clean up the mess in return for being able to fuck the poor bitch, so that was alright.
I got a little drunk and found myself in bed with Karl and his mother.

He took my technical virginity and it was actually quite pleasant as his mother had been tongueing me until I wet myself. It seemed I was becoming a sadistic little slut quite easily.
Long before the end of my birthday cruise, I had shared very serious torture sessions not only with Karl but with Daddy and Edrich helping to hurt our Swedish blonde as well. She died, of course, and we cut her up and fed her to the fishes in mid ocean.
Going back to my Swiss finishing school until my eighteenth birthday was quite a hard thing to do, but education is supposed to be important, and Carenia was still my Lesbian lover .

I went to bed with her at every opportunity, unfortunately not able to lead her interests in to sadism, but then Daddy suggested we hire private investigators to vet the rest of the girls at the school to find any with latent cruel tendencies.

Not as difficult as one thinks.

Reading certain books, visiting specialist shops, logging on on one's portable P.C. to peculiar web sites.....there are a lot of give-away signs... Astonishingly there were three who later became regular companions of wealthy members of POP.
And now ?
Well, Daddy died almost a year ago. Karl and I virtually run POP with a little help from a couple of trusted old members, and we have invested in this excellent new vessel designed especially for POP.
It looks like an up-market tanker, certainly not the luxury yacht type of vessel father would have expected.

But that means that people do not notice us. Enter or leave ports throughout our cruising range and hardly anyone raises an eyebrow.

Quite a few commercial freighters have a helicopter pad nowadays. We need ours to bring the clients aboard in secrecy so they can venture below decks to explore some of the most fully equipped torture chambers this side of a South American police state interrogation centre.
And we have grinders, commercial models, into which a human corpse can be tossed to emerge at the other end of the process as minced meat….a little bony, in places, but fully dispersible at sea.

No chance of a shark being caught with large pieces of girl meat in its belly, to cause official concern.
Our costs are very high. Fuel, food, berthing fees, maintenance, and so on….but our fees are enormous.
Only the very rich could afford to use our services, but they are why we exist and our service is second to none.
Occasionally we even provide special services….a man tiring of his wife or wishing harm to an enemy may enjoy having certain people brought onto our vessel for him to dispose of at his leisure.
So much better to see the face of a hated enemy as he watches you castrate his sons or ravish and mutilate his wife and daughters.
Of course, if doing the deed is not to the clients liking, Karl, I, and most members of the crew will be more than happy to oblige……
We even have a small but efficient ships hospital staffed by some of the most perverted doctors and nurses we could find. Though they can save life and repair damage, all of them actually prefer to use their skills to torment and destroy young women.
Want your victim to have enormous breasts? Put her in our care for a few weeks and she can be transformed.
Want her kept alive even when you have cut out her eyes and broken half the bones in her body? We will feed her and repair her so you can hurt her some more.
And we specialise in pregnancies. Causing them and aborting them. Keeping them until they are just as you like to destroy.
Finally, and this is quite recent and not yet perfected, we are attempting to mould a subjects' will to match your required criteria.
Currently we have two young women on board who are engaged to be married to two of our clients. They want their new wives to not only accept but actively participate in and enjoy their husbands' perversions.
If we do not succeed in our mission, both the poor cows will be used as playthings in the torture chambers, so it really is in their interests to learn the lessons we give them.
I'll tell you how it works, or how we are trying to make it work. ……………….You may find it interesting.

CHAPTER THREE : Virgin's Voyage.

She was one of the sweetest looking creatures I had ever seen.
Ron introduced her to me on the bridge.
I was wearing my uniform, a sort of slightly sexy naval outfit with tight jacket and short tight skirt over dark nylons and rather inappropriate high heels.
"Sheri, this is Samantha Govash, our Captain."
She blushed slightly, one of those creamy complexions with tiny freckles that red heads seem to have. I could have taken her in my arms and kissed her. She really was a peach.
"My fiancée, Sheri" Ron smiled at me, a look of proud possession on his face.
Last time I had seen Ron he was in the electrical room using a cattle prod inside the slits his brother had cut in a womans' breasts. I think I had actually sucked him off as they hoisted the gurgling creature into the air by sliding a huge meat hook into what was left of her cunt…or that might have been Ellis, his brother.
Now he stood before me, impeccable in a Saville suit, the exquisite young redhead dressed in Dior casuals, her deck shoes in calf leather that was as soft as silk and probably cost a small fortune.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Captain. Ron has told me so much about you. He was quite insistent that we share this short cruise with you before the wedding, though I had rather imagined something less…er…commercial."
"Oh, don't let first impressions colour your view too much" I smiled. "There's a lot more to the Desaddee than meets the eye. We have a full range of amusements on board for even the most jaded of palates."
I knew by previous consultation of course, that Ron really loved this young woman. He desperately wanted to marry her and have her bear his children and his name. Unfortunately, his sexual preferences were almost exclusively sadistic. He and his brother enjoyed torturing women in ways that went far beyond S and M games, ways that frequently left the poor victim dead.. A wife who did not share this enthusiasm could be a bore. Unfortunately, though one could frequently fall for a pretty girl, finding one who could even contemplate the sort of fun Ron and Ellis enjoyed was virtually impossible.
So he wanted me to convert her, turn her into a nymphomaniac sadist without spoiling her looks.
I had insisted that he did not stay on board. If he loved her at all, he would never countenance what I intended doing to her.
She drank the sweet Turkish coffee and smiled lovingly into her fiancés' eyes just before she slithered sideways on the chair, out cold.
As soon as I had ushered Ron to the helicopter and sent him on his way, I went back to my cabin where Sheri lay unconscious on my huge king size bed.
I buzzed Karl. We always shared any special delights, and this girl was certainly special.
I must admit, I had slipped my hand up inside her crisp white chenille blouse to check the firmness of her full breasts even before Karl arrived.
Karl likes bottoms. Bottoms and shapely thighs. More a leg man than a tit man, he says.
Together we undressed sleeping beauty.
You know, this can be an intensely sexual feeling, undressing an unconscious girl when you know she would be screaming the walls down if she knew what you were doing to her.
We spread her legs and admired her bush, tight little curls of a stunning red copper colour. I bent down and licked between her tightly curled pussy lips, so tight they looked as if they had never even been fondled. Redheads smell a little different, slightly more fishy. That sounds rather nasty but I don't mean it to be. It's like a fair haired man's cock. Always seems to have a different odour, even straight from the shower it has that tang….
We bared her breasts and both fondled the creamy mounds topped with very pale pink almost translucent nipples. I was getting very moist. Just thinking how she would scream if I could get to play with those delicate buds…………
We turned her over so Karl could stroke her bottom. She had slim thighs but firm and nicely rounded buttocks below a tiny waist. Pulling the cheeks apart, we peered at the pale brown skin puckered round her little arcehole. Now Karl was getting turned on.
"Jesus, she looks like a total virgin" he groaned. "I've got to shaft that pretty bumhole. I'll open the little slut up!"
He pulled his cock out, already pretty near erect, and rubbed the tip up and down on our little sleeping beauties' bottom cheeks, leaving snail trails of clear pre-come.
From behind, her tight furled pussy looked even more inviolable. I could not resist gently peeling the lips apart and after licking my forefinger to ease its passage, I probed carefully inside her little love tunnel, only to be brought up short by feeling her hymen.
"Oh my God, she really is a 100% virgin" I breathed. "She hasn't even finger fucked the web out of the way. She's intacto as they say. A genuine cherry pie waiting to be fuck-plucked!"
"Can we do her?" Karl asked. He knew that there were strict limits as to what we could do to the fiancé of one of our clients.
"Ron wants her to be a sadistic fuck-hungry tramp when he marries her. No way can we get her to that stage without fucking her" I smiled.
"Let's take her down below" he drooled. "When she wakes up I want her looking straight at my prick!"
Now this is where we are not absolutely sure of the right way to go. There are two choices. You degrade and debase your subject until they have no self respect left, then rebuild their character as you desire it to be, using pain, drugs, and the simple will to survive……….or, you start the treatment by drugging the subject and getting them to perform obscenities under the drugs that they would never otherwise allow, slowly teaching them that such lewd behaviour rewards them with feelings of sexual delight.
Unfortunately, as Ron genuinely loves this girl, we have to use the second less brutal system, at least until we find out if it is going to work.
Rohypnol and a derivative of Viagra make a most useful cocktail to start a woman on the road to sexual perversion.
Either injected or swallowed in a drink, and even a nun would start to feel horny. The rohypnol not only removes her inhibitions but frequently erases her memory of the sinful things she may have done, and the viagra makes her responses to sexual stimulation almost automatic.
Sheri groaned when I squirted the dose of chemical stimulation into her arm, at the back and below her shoulder so she would be unable to see any needle mark. We lay her on a padded leather restraint bed, carefully securing her wrists and ankles in padded cuffs so she was loosely outspread face up and totally naked. Karl squatted above her head, slowly masturbating his cock to keep it hard. I curled up between Sheris' legs and gently licked her tight lipped sex slit.

At each side of the bed were large T.V. sets, one showing a Lesbian video and the other a sado-masochistic blue movie, the sort that ordinary sex shops can actually sell without being raided. We had the sound turned down so only a background of "oogghh" and "aarrrggghhh" simulated orgasm noises broke the silence.
When Sheris' eyes fluttered open, all she could see for a moment was an erect phallus being gently wanked just above her face. The drugs inhibited her reactions. She did not scream, just stared in a sort of shocked disapproval at the red cockhead with the foreskin peeling back then re-covering the shiny glans. I heard her gasp of surprise, and drove my tongue hard between those succulent petals, hearing a slightly louder cry of fear as she realised what was being done to her sex slot.
Then she began to struggle and scream, which was to be expected.
She had no idea who Karl was, but when I emerged from between her legs, tastefully attired in my leather dominatrix play clothes with erect nipples jutting from peep holes and a triangular section of my leather tights cut out to frame my blonde bush, she was really confused.
Karl lowered his naked rump until his hairy balls brushed Sheris' forehead and he dipped his prick to rub over her nose and lips. Pre-come smeared her face.
I straddled her waist, knees apart, thrusting my pelvis forward so she looked straight at my sex triangle, then I sank my middle finger into the wet gash and let her get a close up view of a really hot cunt being toyed with.
In disgust, she twisted her head sideways and stared at the T.V. screen with three girls daisy chaining each other on big rubber dongs. Her head twisted the other way, and she saw a man caning the rounded bottom of a girl bound over a wooden whipping frame. Just as she gurgled with amazement, the caner drove his cock into the bent over girls' arcehole.
Above her, Jake was pumping his manhood faster, grinning down into her frightened blue eyes with a look of lustful cruelty. And my pussy was actually starting to ooze juice down the top of my thighs as I frigged myself hard and deep.
Add the smell of male and female arousal, and you can see that poor Cheri was being drowned in sexual stimulants that scared the hell out of her but also started to arouse her unwilling passions.
It isn't easy to overcome natural prudery. We really have to work hard to balance fear and arousal, but we eventually got Sheris' body to betray her. Disgusted by all around her, she screamed with pleasure as I sucked her cunt into an orgasm.
Some reluctant pleasure….then some pain.
Karl got on her and broke her hymen with one savage thrust.
It was her first real scream of agony as his thick manhood went up to the hilt in the ruptured passage, lubricated by both her fresh blood and her bodies' treacherous response to my tongue.
After his rut, I sucked her clean. I'm afraid I actually like the taste of male sperm, more so when mixed with virgins' blood.
For the first time I spoke to her, my face still smeared with her pussy blood.
"I'm afraid this is only your first lesson, Sheri Darling. Your fiancé is a very naughty man. He likes all the dirty sex you can see on those televisions, and he wants you to share his pleasures, so he asked Karl and me to teach you how to like kinky sex. We know you are a good girl….you were even a virgin until Karl broke your cherry, weren't you ? I'm very impressed. But from now on you are going to be an absolute slut. We'll teach you how to suck cocks and girl's pussies, how to whip a girl until her bottom is all bloody, even get you to feel sexy when you watch your new husband cut the tits off some poor tortured bitch…………..yes, he does do things like that. Usually with Ellis joining in. They are a couple of real cruel dudes when we have a torture party on board. You see, the Desaddee is named after De Sade, the original Count of Cruelty. It's a pleasure cruiser for special people who like special pleasures….like torturing some poor woman to death just for the fun of hearing her scream and watching her body slowly torn apart."
Her face was a picture, wide blue eyes shiny with tears, pretty mouth open in a sort of 'O' of wonder, and yet her bound body was still squirming slightly as I fondled between her legs and Karl gently stroked her fine breasts, occasionally leaning down and licking her nipples tenderly.
The drugs were churning her sex drive and the Rohypnol was deadening her repugnance. She probably felt like one does when waking from an erotic dream, a mixture of longing for those hot feelings to return and a little shame that one feels so turned on.
"Now I'm going to let you come again, Sheri. Don't be bashful. Sex is something to be enjoyed. You just think of how much better it would be if Ron was here stroking you and licking your nipples."
She began to babble…a mixture of reproofs, threats, pleas and expressions of total outrage.
I think the fact that I had told her it was her loving fiancé who had got her tied down like this threw her completely. If we had just been strangers who had abducted her, her outrage would have been stronger and her resistance greater. As things were, she was scared but somehow intrigued. Could Ron really be the beast I had described? Her loving husband to be?
I was back down between her sleek thighs, fingers and tongue working magic on that sexy red fringed triangle.
I adore a woman's cunt. I can sometimes even get a girl to come after the men have done some really brutal things to her body. Of course, my tendencies to enjoy Lesbian rather than heterosexual relationships does mean I know how to do things in that moist cave of delight that some men never dream of in their whole lifetimes. Anyway, aided by the Viagra type drug, I soon had Cheri not protesting any more….she was actually gasping "Yesss" and bucking her hips into me with a desperate urge to make me bite her just that little bit harder to bring her climax over the edge.
And each side of her, the T.V. screens continued to show increasingly depraved full colour videos one after the other. Three men on her left, inserting their tools into mouth, anus and vagina of a willing busty blonde whilst on her right a girl hung by outspread ankles as a man and a very young girl whipped her all over. The young girl was rubbing her almost hairless pudenda with obvious excitement as she slashed her short horsewhip over the upside down captive's buttocks. The soundtracks were slightly more expressive by now. Screams and cruel threats on her right, greedy hot dirty talk on her left.
She came four times, totally exhausted at the end, body wet with sweat, totally relaxed even though the screens were showing stuff that should be making her sick and she was still being pawed by a naked man and a leather clad dominatrix.
Amazing how sex can drive out normal fears if it is strong enough.
It was the end of the first major session, and I wanted to leave Sheri with a feeling of threat to make sure that when her normal reactions overcame the residual drugs, she would think long and hard about being too quick to fight back.
I nodded to Karl and he straddled the exhausted girl's head. "Suck my cock, Sheri!" he grinned.
As expected, the sudden return to male organs scared her. She shook her head. "No…no, I won't do that. Leave me alone. Please, stop doing this to me…"
I stood up and loomed over her, my face composed into a cruel sneer.
"You silly little cunt! Haven't you learned anything? Your man wants a sex slut. You'll fucking lick any cock off any fucking time, bitch. I was going to let you rest for a while, but fucking disobedience from a cunt like you gets me fucking mad. Get the slut in the cramp box, Karl. We'll teach her not to fucking argue!"
So weeping and pleading, and actually apologising for upsetting me, the sweet little redhead found herself crouching in a little bamboo cage, just enough room for her to kneel inside it, then we hoisted it into mid air, positioned the televisions in front of her with the volume on the sadistic channel turned up until the screams really bounced off the cabin walls, and left her to hang in increasing pain and suffering with nothing to look at but gradually more and more outrageous videos.
She passed out after almost eight hours, poor cow. She had peed herself, her knees and arms had wealts from pressing into the bamboo supports, and her body was completely seized up with cramp.
She had also seen her husband to be and his brother in a few recordings of their cruel games in the electrical cell. Now she knew that whatever I said was true. He really did cut the tits off living girls and
toss himself off as his brother sent electric shocks into the circles of raw flesh where they had been.
Cheri was cared for in our on-board hospital wing, massaged, pampered, treated like a princess other than having a silver chain locked to her ankles all the time so she could not escape.
No mention was made of sex or what had been done to her. The nurses and orderlies simply ignored her questions.
Until Karl and I collected her for her second session.
Without drugs, watching her fiancé in a particularly brutal session, body naked, spreadeagled, Karl fucking her second virgin hole which made her cry a lot and bleed quite freely, me just fingering her pussy and being quite cruel, pulling and twisting her labia, scraping my fingernails down the sweet creases of her womanhood.
"All you have to do is start to like it, Cheri, and there would be nothing but constant pleasure for you. A man with enough money to satisfy your every desire, who loves you so much that he is spending an absolute fortune paying to have you taught how to enjoy sadistic sex, and friends who would adore you."
"You're all sick!" she sobbed. "I'll never let you make me as horrible as you are!".
So we whipped her.
Naturally we used fine braided leather whips that would bring up nice red stripes and swellings without slicing open her skin, but they hurt just as much. And did our pretty little red head scream. We flogged her in four sessions of about twenty minutes each. By the end she was virtually unconscious, whimpering softly, voice too raw to be able to scream any more, even if we sliced a good shot right between her swollen pussy lips.
Then we fucked her, Karl in her pussy, me wearing a double-ender and taking her from behind. That was another first for poor Cheri, and she needed a bit of repair work afterwards where a bit of a split had opened in her back passage.
A few days care, then a drugged up session in which she became willing very quickly, actually spending three quarters of the session with both of us on a bed and no restraints or bindings.
I think Ron would have never believed that his little virgin could be on her hands and knees, tongue buried up my slit while Karl knelt behind her shagging her for all she was worth…..and she willingly spread herself for me to use a dilly while I tongued her into at least three orgasms.
On the T.V. throughout this session, videos taken on board Desaddee were on screen. Believe me, no one outside POP has access to material as explicit and disgusting as that. But Cheri was able to come with a man and a woman while girls on screen were being cut into ribbons or broken on the rack….
We were getting somewhere at last.
Most people are like that, really. Show them a bare tit on home television and they cry out that it is disgusting. Show them a few more, maybe a bit of pussy and a bit of romantic fucking done discretely, and soon a bare tit doesn't even warrant a raised eyebrow.
Violence?
Well, keep the sex out of it and you can show most things. Bringing the two together will take a bit of time.
But in controlled intensive sessions, totally abhorrent torture scenes become less shocking when watched repeatedly. Share viewing with feelings of sexual excitement, and in time the two go hand in hand. Cruelty rouses passions, passion brings thoughts of cruelty.
And familiarity breeds acceptance. We had Cheri feeling sexy as soon as we turned the sado T.V. on.
We had her feeling something was missing if I had her gorgeous pussy in my mouth and there were no girls bleeding in the background.
Most importantly, she could talk about her husband to be without saying he was a monster even though on a screen in front of her he was sticking red hot skewers in a woman's feet. She was learning that sadism and sex went together for him and could soon be linked in her mind, too.
Pavlovas' dogs. Simple pain or reward training. Call it what you will, with Cheri it worked.
Three months, and we made sure her body was back to virginal condition. She agreed to have a little surgery in her pussy, replacing the web of her hymen. She wanted to be the virgin bride, after all, and we promised faithfully and truthfully that we would never reveal to her husband to be what we had done to make her understand and share his depraved interests. We would tell Ron it was all down to drugs. If he believed that, fine. If not, it would be up to Cheri if she wanted to tell him how often she had been fucked by us.
The other girl, well. we tried just as hard. She was older and more experienced before we were asked to convert her. Maybe that made the difference, I don't know. But she hated cruelty and no amount of drugging , threatening, hurting, or pleading could make her accept it.
The member who had wanted her transformed simply married her on board in a bizarre parody of the normal wedding service, the bride to be being in chains and scared witless, and then killed her to show her what she was missing. It was the first time on Desaddee that we had a wedding and a divorce at the same time.
Ron and Cheri were married in Barbados and spent their honeymoon cruising on Desaddee.
Cheri was wonderful, even learning how to fix the clamps to a shrieking girl's nipples so she could have a seriously shocking time…….
And when we all got together for a good old fashioned orgy on the sun deck, she actually whispered "Thankyou" to me as we knelt together sucking off Rons' prick.
………..
………..

CHAPTER FOUR : South American Cruising.

.

The street kids of South America are the lifeblood of a few organisations with similar aims to POP. The police will actually help you obtain teens and pre teens, charging very little to actually collect any required quantity for you and deliver them for "exportation". Unfortunately, most female street urchins have been fucked since they could walk and carry more venereal disease between their legs than you would find in a badly run whorehouse.
However, just as our teaching methods succeed due to familiarity with a concept allowing increasing tolerance, so it is with a State that condones the murder of annoying urchins begging, and allows young teenagers to be a common sight dealing drugs in the city streets.

When no serious attempt is made to protect these orphans, it only takes a little more money to persuade certain officials that a drug bust at the local university could ensure a number of young women being taken in for questioning.

If some of them were to vanish………..
And in the remote areas, a family will sell a daughter "for marriage".

They know she will probably become a prostitute.

If they happen to sell her to representatives of POP, she will become a short lived member of our crew.

There's no come back. Safe victims no-one protects, often innocent, even virginal, and frequently absolutely gorgeous. The only problem is that so few of them speak good English, and almost all our clients like to be able to understand their victim's cries for mercy, so English is an advantage.

However, when I suggest that the sound of screaming is the same in Spanish as it is in English, this is rarely a serious problem.
We wanted to stock up our galleries early in the year and the warmer climate of South America has another advantage to abductors………in the sunshine, girls do not cover up too much. One has a fair idea of the quality of the merchandise before taking off the wrappings.

Snatch a woman from the cold streets of Northern Europe, and by the time you strip off the layers of clothing she may be as attractive as a plank.

Virtually every male sadist I have met likes his women with curvy bodies, other than the pre-teen brigade who like the little girl look.

I have never yet been asked for a bony skinny woman or one of the cellulite flaunters that abound in far too great a number. (In the interests of accuracy, we did have one client from the Orient who wanted two enormously fat ladies to do unspeakable things to, but I think that was the only time Karl actually found the victims too awful to turn him on!).
I won't disclose actual sources. I value my life and have no wish to find out what it feels like to have my breasts cut off …
It is a medium sized town on the coast. There are a lot of holiday apartments and hotels, a trio of schools, a small university, two hospitals, and a factory that makes shock equipment, everything from stun guns to electric cattle prods.
The chief of police owns this factory. He supplies us and others with specialised electric shock devices tailor made for our purposes.

And for POP he supplies women. I'll call him Carlo for the purposes of this report.
This time he had done even better than usual.
Knowing in advance that we were on route he had arrested a number of mainly American tourists on drug charges. Silly girls in camper vans driving down one side of South America and up the other, usually on "out" years from their studies.
Those that did not have the means to cause unwanted investigation from their home country were imprisoned in the police chiefs' private gaol, situated in a splendid seaside location some miles up the coast, treated well, and told they were caught up in a large drug sweep which would be compromised by their release.

Amazingly, he never had any who did not believe the story. They accepted their luxurious imprisonment and enjoyed the facilities he offered………..pools, saunas, good food, a long sandy beach fringed with palms………..only their lack of outside communication and the inability to actually leave the place making it different from a holiday home !
I asked the chief one day how he resisted the temptation to fuck the American bimbos, some of whom were very tasty young women.

He told me he liked dark meat. Any American negress was his.

Turned out he had a harem of seventeen very lovely dark skinned girls who did as they were told or endured his favourite punishment………..honey in the pussy and twenty four hours staked out over an ants nest.
After that entertainment, none had ever refused his demands again.
For us he had a most welcome cargo.
Fourteen women, ages from sixteen to thirty two, all bar two from the U.S.A. ( the odd couple were from Canada and were very interesting....a sixteen year old brunette and her thirty two year old mother who looked more like her sister).........and it had been Mom who had the joints in the car when they were stopped and searched by Carlo's road block team.

At first she had tried the usual "you can't do this" outbursts, only calming down when she saw the luxurious accommodation and the seemingly perfectly happy other residents at Carlos' holding centre.
Drugs in their food, a covered military style truck to the docks, well wrapped unconscious female forms carried into the cargo bay, and we set sail with our holding cells very well replenished......

As usual on a stocking cruise, we had invited guests who paid even more than the usual exorbitant fees for the luxury of being in on the abduction part of the fun…there is a special frission about seeing a girl who has no idea that she is in danger suddenly find out that she is in the hands of depraved sadists.

The total shock, the pleasure of exposing the true nature of her captivity, the freshness of terror…..once a woman has been used on a cruise, even if she has only been abused sexually, there just is not that special thrill of being the first to shock her with pain.

Girls who survive from cruise to cruise almost begin to accept that their time will come. Some even welcome it when they are given to a sadist who wants to see them die. When weeks of pain and humiliation are finally to be ended by a man with a gun or a sharp knife, loss of life can almost be a relief.

Of course, when they find out how slowly shots from a gun can kill them or feel the varied agonies a skilfully wielded blade can cause, they all scream and beg for a mercy that is never shown. Death is the only release......

We make it a rule that playmates are not allowed out of the concealed cells whenever we are in any countries territorial waters.

Once well out to sea, the carefully dosed drugs can be stopped to allow our new passengers to awaken and find themselves in small locked cabins, aware by the motion of the surroundings that they were afloat but with no idea how they had been transferred from a tropical beachside paradise to a floating prison.
Four males and one female made up our passenger list, all of them knew each other well. The woman,Kate, was the paid "wardress" for one of the men, Dean, a millionaire property developer with a small "prison" of rather young girls.

One man was a "solo" who liked me to be his companion during his voyages ( I'll call him Tom), and two men were homosexual lovers who had a special "thing" about hurting women.
We had a sort of "pick and choose" dinner party, photographs of our new stock passed around the table leading to a delicious depraved conversation during which I let the men decide who they wanted to start with.

We tend to start most cruises with a "get together" party evening, after which clients usually buy their victim to play with individually.

When they wanted the Canadians, and agreed to pay double, Karl and I were looking forward to the games even more hungrily than usual.
It had always been one of our favourite phantasy ideas to have a pretty mother watch us rape and torture her daughter..........
We dressed both captives before they regained consciousness, mother in a tight black silk evening dress with expensive and slightly old-fashioned silk underclothes, dark 15 dernier nylons, suspender belt, high heel black patent leather shoes, and daughter in a tight sweater over sports bra., mini skirt, tiny white panties, socks and white trainers. She looked like a high school cheer leader.
In one of the torture cells, mother was secured against a bed size padded leather tilt and turn table, bound in silk scarf ties that would allow quite a lot of movement but hold with adequate security.
Her daughter was seated in a chair, wrists and ankles manacled in padded restraints. Neither was gagged. Karl, I, and our five guests were seated by the bar at the play end of the torture cell .
We were all in uniform.
The "wardress" Kate and I had short brown skirts, tight black sweaters, arm bands with a swastika like crest, black high heel boots, and a leather gun belt complete with pistol but also with a short multi-thong whip.
The five men had Nazi style jack boots, black shirts and pants, plenty of ersatz gold braid, and menacing dark glasses.
We looked like extras from a porn movie...The Gestapos' Last Orgy, or something.
You may think it silly that a group of sexual perverts like us would bother play-acting instead of just starting to assault our victims, but it is great fun to do an "interrogation" game or a "mad scientist" experiment, or whatever.

You see, we hurt people all the time, and, to be truthful, the thrill of burning a girls' tits with cigarettes starts off as a mind-blowing experience but becomes rather routine after you have done it so many times.

Adding the role-play themes seems to freshen up the whole thing. We not only have the still very arousing delights of making our victim scream but also the fun of inventing a believable dialogue to go with whatever situation we have invented.
Though not from personal experience at my age, I do believe that women married for years have to create little phantasy role plays in their heads when the old man is jumping their bones. It freshens the act enough to bring some spice to the fucking.
If you have travelled in South America, you will know that the various security forces do indeed dress like movie extras, with even a bellhop looking like a general. Our slowly awakening Canadian guests would have no doubt they were being held by some police or security group.
I think the mother was brought fully awake with a jolt when she tried to bring her arms down from above her head and realized they were bound. She tried to sit up, failed, and suddenly noticed her dress. She gave a sort of snort of anger, turned her head, and froze when she saw our little group drinking as we leaned against the bar at the end of the cell.
Just then, her daughter groaned, and the woman swung her head round to see her pretty girl tied to the chair.
I think that was when confusion first turned to fear. We could see her face change, the soft brown eyes widen with shock, her mouth forming an "Oh" but only making a gasp as she sucked air in rapidly.
We all sauntered over to her. The two gay men, Paul and Roger, played the nice cops.
They "shushed" the questions that started to bubble from Moms' lips and told her she had been arrested by the drug enforcement agency as she was suspected of using her innocent image to allow her to take important coded messages to South American drug producers.
I know. Absolute nonsense, but then you have not just come round to find yourself strapped on a leather table wearing clothes that aren't yours and with your daughter bound to a chair and looking terrified.
"Just tell us which cartel you were delivering messages to and what you had to tell them, and you can go back to enjoying your holiday, Mrs. West."
I was already getting that delicious warm feeling between my legs, and I could see Karl's cock swelling in those tight Nazi black pants.
We listened to the garbled protestations of innocence. Sometimes they just get angry straight away. "You can't do this...I'll get the law on you" and so on. Mrs. West, probably because she genuinely did have marijuana joints when arrested by our helpful lawman, tried sweet reason and lots of explanations, who she was, why she was in South America in the first place, how she had been foolish with taking spliffs, how her Darling Penny knew nothing about them and was as pure as the driven snow, how she hadn't caused any trouble at the policeman's hacienda...ask him...he knew she was really just a tourist....
All seven of us were gathered round the leather oblong on which our pleading captive squirmed, each of us looking at her body with different mental images of her suffering.
Kate was the first to be nasty.
"I think she's a lying bitch, Sir. Let me make her tell the truth....maybe give her a bit of pain to loosen her lips !"
Paul reached down and very gently squeezed Marion Wests' left breast. "She's nor very nice, Mrs. West. I'm afraid she is not at all ladylike. Her idea of asking questions is to push pins under your fingernails. Very unpleasant."
Marion was scared. The casual way this total stranger had fondled her breast in front of all these people, and the awful drooling looks on the two women's' faces above her was seriously frightening. What made it worse was the fact that she knew she couldn't tell them what they wanted to know.
"Please, we really are just tourists. We're from Call Heights, just outside Toronto, in Canada. We've nothing to do with anything down here. Just tourists ".
Roger leaned over, put his hand on Marion's right breast, and gave that a firm squeeze through her clothes. "We could watch Kate burn her nipples, Paul. That usually makes them talk very quickly !".
We all knew, of course, that the boys have this thing about women's breasts. It's a sort of jealousy thing, I believe. They both would rather be women at heart, and envy those most noticeable peaks, so love destroying them. But burning tits was a bit premature.
"Perhaps if we let Kate hurt the girl Mrs. West would remember more quickly ?" Dean growled.
He and Tom were playing the nasty cop roles, all macho and brutal....not that anyone was going to be nice to our captives, really.
"No, let me fuck the bitch!" Tom snarled. "I like 'em young !"
"Noooghhh1" Marion screeched.
Funny how quickly we can turn fear into real terror.
We had suggested violence. Now we were introducing sex. Combine the two, and we would have Mrs. West wetting her knickers with dread.
During these group sessions, Karl and I hang back unless requested not to. It can be quite frustrating sometimes, pussy wetting gorgeous horrors happening to some poor bitch and I have to just watch. But the client comes first. In more than one way, too.
"She's got lovely tits!".
Penny squealed. Standing behind her chair, Tom leaned over her and groped the well stacked sweater, one hand on each side, palming her bra into her resilient breast meat. Her hair flew in a sort of halo frame as she shook her head, screaming "No...Mom, help me !".
Marion probably couldn't hear very well because she was screaming too, screaming at us to stop touching her daughter.
This was going to be a wonderful cruise.

All the clients seemed to appreciate the finer points of playing cruel games....the build-up, the threats long before the action. I was conscious of pre-come juice actually seeping down my inner thighs. And we hadn't even unfastened a button yet.

End of Part One.

If you wish to read what happens next, please let me know and I may continue the voyage on the "Desaddee"....but it will be awfully dirty with poor Marion and her daughter getting sent to their makers as fish food, eventually...

.Love,

Susan.

………….Part Two of Susan's "Purveyors of Pain".

As before, heed the warning that this is not for the squeamish and contains detailed descriptions of cruel torture leading to death.

On board the tanker Desaddee steaming somewhere off the South American coast, a crew of hand picked perverts under the control of Samantha Govash and her childhood friend, now sex partner, Karl, sail over the vast ocean. Leaders of a club known as POP,(Purveyors of Pain),the young couple entertain very wealthy guests who desire unusual and illegal entertainment.

They have just collected twelve American women and two Canadians from an obliging lawman.

The Canadian women are mother and daughter, Marion West, 32, and sixteen year old Penny.

The guests are Dean and his sadistic employee Kate, two women-hating homosexual sadists, Paul and Roger, and a single older man we'll call Tom, who enjoys Samantha's favours. Karl and Sam are present to enjoy introducing the Canadian ladies to hell.

In a below deck cell, Marion is fully dressed in elegant if slightly dated clothes (suspender belt and black nylons, for God's sake!) and has been spread-eagled loosely on a moveable leather table-like couch. Her daughter is dressed like a cheerleader high school student and is roped to a heavy chair.

The sadists are dressed in Nazi-like military uniforms and have told Marion they are about to interrogate her to extract (totally fictitious) information they say she has.

Naturally, she is not a happy bunny, especially as Tom has just suggested raping her daughter.

PURVEYORS Of PAIN.............By Susan.

..Part Two..

"At least let's see what she's got to play with", Tom sniggered, tugging the tight sweater upwards so that Penny's white sports bra and its ample contents became visible.

The men all made approving noises, their eyes staring at the deep cleavage moving sexily as Penny squealed and struggled in the chair.

Karl and I had actually seen the goods unwrapped when we helped change their clothes ready for the show, but then they were totally unconscious and nowhere near as exciting, though we had been pleased with what they both had to offer.

Again Tom fondled the teenagers' breasts, pressing the mounds together and rolling them suggestively. We all enjoyed the view and the panic stricken pleading from Marion.

Kate leaned over the leather table and smiled into Marion's eyes. "You gonna talk, cunt, or do we get to see your little slut-kid fucked first?"

This was not the sort of language one expected from a woman in military dress. It sent a shiver of terror down Marion's spine. She had no idea who these people were, nor how she had got here, not even where the clothes she wore had come from.

It was like a sort of magnifying dream, horror piling on horror too quickly for the senses to start to understand.

"Just tell us the cartel and the codes, Honey, and the two of you could be out of here without any trouble at all!".

"I don't know, for God's sake. You've got the wrong people. We're just tourists. Please, help me. Let my daughter go. She hasn't done anything!".

Kate smiled and bent low so she could feel Marion's rapid breaths hot on her cheek. "They all fuckin' say that to start with, dearie. Give me an hour or two with the needles under your fuckin' toenails, and maybe you'll start to remember all of a sudden!"

"Kate, you're so crude," Paul chirrupped. He and Roger were being the good cops in this little playtime.

"What? You trying to kid me you want me to be lady-like? You like to see the bitches suffer, too, don't you?" Kate grinned. "I've seen you tossing off into some dumb cow's face while I pull her fingernails out before now, buster."

"I'd rather work on the kid" Tom called, and Dean said he'd like to see a bit more flesh, too, so he held Penny's sweater up while Tom prised the sports bra. upwards until both the teenagers breasts were thrusting out from below the cups, pink nipples erect with fear.

"Oh my...they are rather special," Roger smiled. "It would be a shame to spoil those lovely big nipples!".

"Not if it made Mommy talk.....could be quite a laugh seeing how far we could stretch those buds before they tore off!" said Paul.

"I wonder what Mommies' tits are like?" Dean said, nodding towards Marion.

"One way to find out, Darling!" laughed Kate, and she took hold of the neckline of the black silky dress Marion was wearing and tried to rip it from her body.

It didn't even tear.

Marion was jerked up from the leather bed and bounced back down, crying out in fear.

"Get me a knife Sam, please" Kate said, so I went to the bar and brought back a short but very sharp blade.

"Right...now let's see the goodies" Kate gurgled dirtily, and used the knife to slit open the front of the black silk dress. She peeled the fabric aside to reveal a well-filled black lace bra. which rose and fell rapidly with Marion's panicked breathing.

Everyone came back to stand around Marion once again, her daughter left sobbing and ashamed with her tits sticking out from under her hiked up clothing.

"Go on, then" Dean grinned, and his slave-mistress eagerly obeyed, slitting the bra. strap between the proud cups so that she could jerk the tattered lace from under Marion and fully expose her breasts.

Allowing for her recumbent position, they were still pretty big, and firmer than the men had expected. After all, she was the mother, but she had kept her body in trim and could easily have passed for her daughter's older sister.

Again the collective murmur of approval, the wetting of pussy lips, the slight stiffening of cocks. Those breasts were prime torture material.

Seeing a slight nod from her employer, Kate knew to progress with the game.

"How about viewing the lower decks, comrades?" she smiled sweetly, lifting the long hem of Marion's evening dress so we all had a glimpse of long legs in black sheer net stockings.

Tom caught hold of the hem of the dress and wrenched it up Marion's legs. "Come on, people. We haven't got all day. We need to get this bitch to talk. Stop playing around and get her naked so we can start to make her do what she's fuckin' told!".

The poor woman screamed with horror as the uniformed "officers" set about ripping her dress from her body. They soon had her lying there with only her garter belt and her sexy nylons remaining, her black lace knickers having been slit at the crotch so the vee over her dark bushy triangle slipped down between her out spread legs.

Tom, still playing the impatient hard man, leaned over her and thrust his hand up between her legs to cup her pussy in his palm. "Better start talking, Mrs. fucking West, or I'll start doing things to you no woman wants to even think about. Come on, who are you working for?"

Paul and Roger, still the "goodies", did a bit of soothing down, Tom playing up to them saying it would be best to let Kate get the needles out and start to torture the kid.

"How about if we let Mummy dear see what her daughter looks like in the nude in front of us, first?" Paul suggested. "She'll probably talk to save her little girl getting ... well,...there are things I'm sure we'd like to do to such a pretty young lady, boys, aren't there?".

Dean was less careful about his choice of words. "That's it. Let's fuck the kid. I've got a hard on already."

Unfastening the zip on his combat pants, he pulled his penis out and displayed it only inches from Marion's horrified eyes. He held the swollen tip between thumb and forefinger, lewdly peeling the foreskin back over the ridge of his glans, the shaft throbbing slightly as he masturbated slowly.

"That's it. Stand this cunt up so she can watch the kid get shafted!" Kate squeaked with eager enthusiasm, rotating the wheel that lifted the leather couch into a vertical plane. As Marion was brought upright, we all saw how much bigger her breasts looked, now pushing forward with very firm contours and a lovely deep cleavage.

She was really starting to panic, begging us not to hurt her daughter and pleading for us to check up on her story that she was just a normal tourist and had nothing to do with drug runners.

I saw how frequently her brown eyes flicked to Deans' cock. She knew he was excited. It was staying very hard and stiff with only the minimum of hand work.

His partner, Kate, was eager to get to some action, already pawing Penny's naked breasts, occasionally pinching her lovely pale pink nipples and squeezing them until she had the girl mewling with pain.

"I can't fuck her tied to this damned chair" Dean growled.

"How about if she sucks you off instead, Darling ?" Kate suggested.

"Noooogghhh...please.....leave us alone..." Penny squealed, struggling with absolutely no result against the heavy ropes holding her in the chair.

Tom slapped her face. "Learn to talk when you're told to, bitch. My friend wants you to suck his cock. You know how to do it. Open your fuckin' mouth or I'll smash your face to a pulp, bitch. I quite like punching a pretty girl senseless, so do it right if you don't want a broken jaw!".

Kate grabbed the girls' nose, making her open her mouth. Dean caught hold of the pretty breast mounds, digging his fingers in hard. "You bite me, bitch, and I'm going to cut these tits off in thin bloody slices, understand?"

"Leave her alone, you monster" Marion yelled, able to see much better now she was upright.

I looked at Karl and gave him a slight nod. Time for us to join the fun. Our fists connected with the mothers' belly in a vicious four blow tattoo. She was too busy gagging and struggling for breath to actually scream.

My pussy tingled. There's something extremely sexy about punching a helpless woman in the belly. It's not just the cruelty, which turns me on anyway, of course, but the uninhibited release of power, just slamming my fist in.

The way it sinks into the unprotected flesh, the look of amazed pain in the victims' eyes, surprised that she should suddenly hurt so dreadfully, the panic as the next blows drive still more air from her body and she really thinks for a moment or two that she will die because she can't breathe....

I smiled at her as she gasped for air and made funny gurgling sounds, twitching on the leather as if she had been shocked.

"Talk when you're told to, mother dear. You had your chance. Now we'll see how your kid learns to behave."

Penny actually was doing rather well. She couldn't make any noise, of course, because Dean had one hand twisted into her brown locks and was jerking her head back and forth as he fucked her throat with very fast and deep strokes, his cock bruising the back of her throat and forcing half way down her gullet.

At least he was not screwing her tits around any more. All she had to worry about was getting enough breath between the throat-filling thrusts of his good-sized penis.

It wouldn't be long before she got her first mouthful of male seed. Dean was making those manly grunts that mean his balls were tightening up ready for the big bang, and the poor cow's head was flying back and forth faster than ever, her little sad whining noises probably caused because Dean's fingers in her hair were nearly pulling her scalp off.

He pulled her face hard into his crotch when the spurting jets came from his penis, holding her so close that she really was being suffocated, his knob bent so far down her throat that breathing through her nose wouldn't work.

Kate had seen him almost kill women this way before, so she watched closely until little Penny's ankles started to tremble against her bonds in a particular way that showed she was almost passing out, then she closed her fingers around his ball sac and gently but inexorably drew him back from the choking girl.

The teenager spluttered and coughed, globules of spunk spilling from her bruised lips. She fought for breath, staring in horror at the slightly softened cock from which Dean was milking the last drops, shaking it to deposit the creamy splashes over her breasts.

We played our party game for a while, telling Marion that what she had just seen was nothing compared with what we could do to her kid. The poor bitch was distraught, begging us to believe her, swearing she had only had a couple of roaches and knew nothing about drug suppliers.

While we spoke, we sort of fondled her, male and female fingers groping between her legs, crawling over the full curves of those lovely breast, tracing suggestively over her belly and down her thighs.

Tom was behind me, one finger curled into my pussy. I made sure Marion could see what he was doing, raising the hem of my short "military" skirt so she could see my black lace knickers were pulled to one side to expose my pussy-lips already swollen and slippery with pre-juice.

Paul and Roger pretended to try and argue against Dean and Kate, who were urging us all to get to the serious pain games to make Marion talk. Then Tom said that maybe if we fucked the kid it would show Marion we were serious.

"At least get the kid spread out so we can get to her holes !"

We used the two plus two bar system, one to secure her legs apart, one for her wrists, then the third bar in front of her at about waist height and the fourth behind at about the same height. Pull the wrist and ankle bars forward, and she's bent over with her pert little arse sticking out, just begging to be abused, jerk her back and she arches over the other bar with her pussy pouting as if it's asking to be fucked.

As we secured her, she was still gurgling and choking on the remnants of that full ejaculation of Deans' sperm. Rivulets of the stuff trickled down her chin. Her eyes had a sort of glazed horror, as if she could not really believe these things were happening, and her attempts to resist were soon overcome when Tom gave her a really good punch in her belly.

When we pulled the ropes that secured the wrist and ankle bars, and she suddenly felt the strain of standing stark naked in a helpless "X" against the bend-over bars, she really started to panic.

So did her mother. She had seen her virgin daughter take a big cock down her throat, and now her pretty daughter was spread-eagled like a starfish in front of a group of soldiers with their cocks all rising rapidly at the view.

She screamed at us to stop it, still convinced that telling us she was a Canadian would somehow help her.

Tom and I stood in front of her, and she stopped her shouting. She looked at me and pleaded with me to help her. "You're a woman, you must know I'd do anything to help my daughter....please believe me...we have nothing to do with drugs, I swear. Please don't let them touch my daughter!".

I unfastened my dark military style skirt and let it slide down my legs. Tom peeled the lace panties down my thighs, actually kneeling in front of me to pull them over my heels and taking the opportunity to nuzzle his face against my snatch and slip his tongue up my groove. I parted my legs, and he pulled the side petals of my vulva to one side, so I pushed my forefinger into my cunt. "Sweetie, I'm going to watch them fuck your pretty little girl and probably come like a bitch on heat. Then I'll help them open your cunt for a bit of old fashioned shagging, too. Unless you decide to talk, of course."

I nearly came anyway. The way her face crumpled. Her last hope that a woman would understand and help her......and she could see I was as bad as the men.

"Go on, Captain. Why don't you let this cow know what her kid is going to feel like with the lads' cocks opening up her virgin holes ? I bet a woman of this one's age would feel the same if you gave her a good fisting !"

"Now that's a good idea,Darling" he grinned. And Tom needed no second bidding.

As her petals were ruthlessly pulled open by his greedy fingers, I reached down and wanked his prick a little, just to keep it really hard when he forced half his hand inside the sobbing slut.

Young Penny was screaming as well now, bent forward over the steel bar with Paul holding her arse cheeks apart. His boyfriend was pressing the purple dome of his circumcised cock into the pale brown crinkly rose bud of her virgin sphincter.

Rape was bad enough, but to be raped up her arse was even worse. Between Paul's legs, Kate had dropped to her knees and was using her tongue to taste the virginal pussy and also lubricate Paul's weapon. It obviously had the desired effect as he gave a roar of lust and thrust in to poor Penny with the force of a raging bull.

It's strange. You hear some poor kid screaming while she is being abused, and it is a nice background to the fun we have, but, just occasionally, there's a scream that makes the hairs on the nape of the neck tingle with excitement, and when Penny West's anus opened for the first time to admit a man's cock, she gave us one of those screams! … … Delicious.

Tom has his own way of fisting a woman. He forms his fingers into a point all together, as if you are holding something tiny between thumb and all four fingers. This makes a shape like a lemon squeezer, the narrow end is pushed between the labia, then the wrist twisted violently from side to side in a screwing motion as he adds pressure on the captive pussy, thus not only opening her up, but hurting her more than a straight push.

As Penny shrieked with the first cock ever in her body, Tom managed to screw his hand into Marion at just the right time, his wrist thrusting into her vagina just as that luscious shriek came from her daughter.

Mother's shriek of pain blended with daughters.

This was becoming very sexy.

Once in a cunt, there are plenty of options. Just hammer as deep as possible and thud against her womb, spear her with straightened finger jabs, spread the digits out to give her a manual version of the Pear, or clamp finger nails into the bump ring of her os and make her feel what it's like to have you screw and crush that nice little ring for a while.

My wrist and hand is small, so I tend to use my long nails to hurt any woman I investigate internally, but the big male hand now fully enclosed in Marions' pussy was making her yell just by being there.

I almost felt sorry for the poor woman, having to hear her daughter screaming as she was arse-raped. It probably hurt her more than being assaulted herself by Tom.

He was doing nasty things inside her, judging by her sudden squirms of pain and gasps of horror.

I began to fondle Marions' breasts, just stroking the rounded sides and slipping my fingers under the lowest curves to lift slightly and feel the weight of her breasts. Tom pulled his wrist out, exposing a smear of blood on the back of his pussy-juiced hand, then slammed back into her with cruel brutality. The big breasts jumped from my hands as she arched off the couch in agony.

Feigning annoyance, I grabbed both her nipples and jerked them from side to side a couple of times, hard enough to make tears start to trickle down her cheeks. Karl slammed a couple of cruel chopping blows down on the globes, snapping her nipples from my grip.

Lower down, Tom was fist fucking her with brutal force. Her insides would be bruised for days….if she lasted that long.

Paul was hammering away at the youngster in a positive Heaven of delight, her tight little arce gripping his shaft tightly, Kate still slurping on his cock from below as well as tongueing Penny. He was starting the bunny strokes, grunting with effort and getting even harder as his balls tightened up and he raced towards the first deposit of sperm in young Pennys' lower regions. It was too good to pull out, though he was like most men and frequently liked to jerk his cock out of the man or woman he was raping to enjoy squirting his ejaculation over their bodies or into their eyes.

This time he just arched forward to make that last violent thrust enter as far as humanly possible, grabbing the girls breasts and crushing them brutally as he felt his semen gush into her bowels and had the pleasure of letting his cock slowly subside cocooned in a warm wet girl hole.

Kate continued her oral attention. That girl loved the taste of sex, male, female, mixed with piss or dark with shit. Nuzzling a virgin and ready to lick clean the anal invader were tasks of sheer pleasure to her. She gurgled happily as she waited for the softening penis to slither out of the girl and into her mouth.

I enjoyed making sure her mother saw the way Pennys' sphincter stayed open, not closing as it would have done after passing a stool of similar size to Pauls' cock.

"See how your girls' arcehole is so stretched, Mrs.West?" I smiled sweetly, as I pinched her nipples savagely. "The lads will take turns in her and she'll be able to park a compact in there when they're finished….and we've got her virgin little cunt to break open soon. Don't you think a concerned mother might decide to help her poor daughter and tell us all about the drug cartel now?"

"Please, I don't know anything about drugs!" Marion groaned. "You must stop this .... We have not done anything wrong. You can't do things like this to us. Who are you people?"

Her words came out in little jerky rhythms, timed by the thrusting fist Tom was still hammering in her belly.

"We are the authorities, dear, and we can and will do anything we want to make you tell the truth."

I just love seeing the desperation in their eyes. It must be so mind blowing to know you really are telling the truth and no one believes you.

Roger had his cock out, already hard. He more or less pushed his male lover aside and gave a growl of pleasure as he saw the open bottom drooling sperm and a trace of blood down Pennys' thighs.

He thrust into her at once. Kate gave a satisfied little gurgle to have another hard cock sliding next to her cunt-licking tongue. His balls slapped against her face. He was going as deep and as hard as he could, wanting it to hurt.

He and Roger are unusual. Homosexual men I have met in my comparatively short but perverted life tend to exhibit any sadistic desires towards other men and often young boys. This couple seem to love arce-fucking unwilling women. Yet they don't want to fuck a willing one….or at least, in the many times I have been on call, they have never wanted to fuck me, back or front.

They also like cutting tits off, in a variety of extremely cruel ways……

A second coming, more sticky grey bubbles flowing from that teenage arcehole, the girl sobbing and moaning, her mother unable to believe that two men have already raped her poor child.

Dean took a turn, but he wanted to split Penny's cherry.

We made sure Marion had a good view, arching Penny backwards now so her belly thrust forward to be fully accessible.

We waited for the scream.

We saw Deans' cock surge into her, saw the blood smearing the length of his shaft as he ripped her hymen to bits.

And shuddered with sadistic glee as we heard the girl's cry of absolute horror when her virginity was greedily taken by the rutting man.

Rape, the one act that almost every one of our POP male customers wants to include in his purchase.

I find it exciting to watch, I love to do it. . .Oh, yes, we can. . . Strap a dildoe on, and we can rape a girl more thoroughly than the most determined of males. And we can keep going for as long as we like, ripping the bitch open with a nice barbed steel shaft or using an acid creamed dong that slowly burns her deepest recesses while the other end of the double ender transmits all her squirms of agony right to the depths of our own sex-receptors.

Sorry, gentlemen, but we ladies have often been accused of being more deadly than the males, and, though less numerous, a cruel woman can out perform any male when it comes to torture and rape.

Tom pulled his well-smeared hand out of Marion's cunt and, as I had been making sure he stayed hard, replaced it with his cock.

Karl and I fucked, enjoying the sight and sound of mother and daughter rape.

We were all soon getting worn out, and decided to have a bit of a break.

. . . . .

Showers, a few drinks, cigars for the men, a bit of chat about what were the best bits of the initial "interrogation" and the victims being washed down and refreshed by the cabin staff, then we were ready to go back and play more painful games.

Because it adds a bit of fun to our pleasures, we had all resumed wearing our military style outfits, looking like a third rate South American police state terror squad.

Marion and Penny were standing, arms above their heads, chained to spreader bars.

They had been re-attired in black mesh stockings held up by black suspender belts. They wore very high-heeled shoes (probably the first time ever for Penny, and certainly she had never worn sexy nylons before) and bikini sized knickers and bras. in scarlet and black lace.

They looked like models posing for a kinky bondage magazine. Only the fear that lined Marion's face and the pain that made poor Penny look older than her sixteen years spoiled the glamour shoot image.

We had agreed a sort of scenario where Kate and I would now seem to be the leaders of the interrogation team, the men performing as we requested.

We both had short skirts, long black leather patent boots, very low cut blouses, and Swastika-like scarlet and black arm-bands. A couple of Natzi type bitches.

The way those two looked at us, absolutely petrified with fear, showed that we had achieved the desired effect.

"I think we should concentrate on the mother" I said to Kate.

"She must know the details of the cartel, I suppose" Kate nodded, "but I reckon we can get her to talk quicker if we hurt that fuckin' bitch kid of hers."

"Please, I beg you…listen to me! We haven't done anything. We're just tourists. We're Canadians, we don't know anything about drugs…"

"Shut the fuck up !" Kate shouted, swinging round and delivering a full kick into Marion's belly. The poor woman tried to double up in pain, but her overhead wrists prevented this, and her legs actually drew up off the deck so for a few seconds she hung from her chained arms, increasing her pain.

"You fuckin' talk when we tell you, cunt, otherwise keep your fuckin' mouth shut or I'll sew your fuckin' lips together," Kate snarled. She had a quaint way of expressing herself. Never use a word if a swear word will suffice. And I knew her brutality was not an act. She's one of the most bloodthirsty mares I know.

I waited for Marion to recover, smiling sweetly at her as she gagged for breath.

"There. That's better. Are you feeling better now?"

She sort of gurgled, but nodded her head.

"Good. So let me tell you what is going to happen next. We think you are a supplier or a runner for the drug barons in our locality. You are going to tell us all about it. Of course, we expect you'll deny it at first, so we have to make sure you are going to tell the truth, and the best way is to torture you. We can give you pain so bad that you will wonder how your body can stay alive. In fact, you will probably beg us to let you die. And, of course, you could be one of these people who is trained not to give information, so we might torture your daughter as well. I think we'll do you first. Then you'll know how much it hurts Penny."

"Oh, let's do them both together! " Kate growled.

"No, Kate. We'll play with Mommy first. Would you bring the trolley over? We'll start with some nice tongue looseners that don't mark their bodies too badly. I'm sure the boys will want to fuck them both again afterwards."

Karl and Tom trundled the trolley over.

I almost wet myself seeing the way our captives' eyes widened with dread as they saw the neatly laid out instruments that suggested diabolical horrors. Scalpels, clips, branding irons, and coils of wire with hooks or clips as the terminals. We had a few old instruments, too. A couple of pears, one opened so the poor bitches could see how huge the prongs were, and a bunch of dildoes that would scare me.

"How about with a bit of juice ?" I purred, picking up four coils of wire, plugs at one end, crocodile clips at the other.

"Oh, that's shocking!" Kate giggled. "Tits and pussy?"

"Toes and armpits, first" I smiled. "Just so she'll know what it'll feel like if we do get… …er … intimate."

"I don't think that'll do much" Kate grumbled, but she bent down and snapped a couple of croc clips on Marions' big toes, not yet removing any of her sexy clothing.

I clipped the other two to a pinch of flesh under each arm-pit, perfectly exposed with Marions' arms raised overhead to the spreader bar. We plugged the other ends into a control box on the trolley. Marion whimpered, but nothing happened.

"Are you going to tell us what we want to know, Sweetie?" I said, stroking my hands gently down her body and touching her briefly between the legs.

She was half way through repeating her scared protests of innocence when Kate jabbed the button and a huge high voltage low amperage shock went from toes to armpits, Marions' body arching forward and shuddering as if she had St.Vitus' Dance. Her scream was peculiar, vibrating in the rhythm of her helpless pain. I love that sound.

Her face went white and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, a few splashing me as her head thrashed from side to side.

"Talk you silly cunt or we'll fuck with your head until you're fuckin' crazy!" Kate snarled, and let another brutal shock tear through our lovely victim.

On the third shock, urine came splattering out of her tiny bikini bottom.

Her daughter was screaming at us to stop. The gay fellows were pawing the teenager, and Dean was unzipping and pulling out his engorged cock, screams bringing him up faster than Viagra.

Things were beginning to get cosy.

We peeled the soaking triangle of black lace down Marions' thighs, leaving them half way down her thighs, and Kate's fingers delved inside the damp cleft.

"Come on, Samantha, why pretend ?" she growled. "This cow's trained to resist questioning. We'll have to do her harder. Let's stick a fuckin' shock stick up her cunt!"

"I'm not!" Marion shrieked. "Please, you've got to believe me. . . "

Then she tried hard to wriggle to prevent us driving a ten inch steel bar up her pussy, screwing on a heavy wire, and then screwing down the two little clamps where the balls would be if the shocker was a cock.

This was one of the instruments our stock providing lawman made in his sideline factory. It hurt a lot more than just a cattle prodder.

Both labia majoris now held in tiny steel jaws, the rod stuck deep inside her vagina, absolutely guaranteed not to be ejected unless we cut her cunt lips off first.

"This is going to hurt, cunt."

"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH"

..

Unless you have been lucky enough to actually see a woman having an electric shock administered to the inner tube of her vagina, you can have no idea what her body does.

Saying that she writhed or struggled and screamed just doesn't go a fraction of the way to telling you what she looks like.

She vibrates with total soul consuming sense destroying paroxysms of unadulterated total agony.

We have their arces cleaned out before a session, but this pussy shock still makes them shit themselves.

They bleed at the mouth, teeth chattering helplessly and cutting their tongues or lips.

Their hands bleed, finger nails gouging their palms.

I've even had a couple who dislocated their spines and rather spoiled our games by arching so violently that they became virtual cripples.

If they are hung arms-up, like Marion, their legs leave the ground, drawn up so they look like they want to show off their pussy slits as if they are on a gynaecological couch.

We even have to use stronger than normal rope if we tie a woman down for these internal shocks. They jerk so hard they can break serious restraints with an almost superhuman strength.

And Marion was getting them one after the other, varying intensity, some to arms, some to toes, but the worst to pussy hole.

Kate played her with skill, long gaps sometimes so the sweating gurgling victim began to think it was over, then a dozen one after the other so the scream was almost constant and the poor bitch could hardly breathe.

We usually like to make a sort of special occasion out of taking a virginity, but the sight of Marion's big breasts leaping and shuddering on her galvanised body was too much for the men, roused beyond patience by the intensity of the shrieks, and determined to shoot their loads into tight girl flesh…

Dean was in front of the hanging teenager, his cock deep into her de-hymenised vagina, whilst Tom was behind her, opening that pretty arcehole up again. The two other guys were holding an ankle each, spreading the kid's legs and greedily watching her twin holes being violated by thick rampant cockshafts, knickers stretching between her thighs.

Only poor Karl was unable to join the fun, but that was our job, to provide the action rather than do it ourselves. He enjoyed watching even when he was not actually playing with one of our victims, as did I.

I don't think her mother was sufficiently in control of her mind to actually see what the men were doing to Penny, or hear the girl's cries and pleas. Her world had been narrowed down to a succession of nerve shattering explosions that started below her shoulders, at her feet, or deep inside her belly.

Kate is one of those girls who gets so excited she goes over the top.

A torturer should maintain a certain level of control, because even when you are giving a victim the most deliciously savage torture, you have to be sure they are experiencing it to the full.

There is not much point in branding an unconscious woman. You're just cooking meat.

Kate had turned the power up, and was holding the button down longer.

Her subject's eyes were rolling back in her head, the struggles becoming more spasmodic, sometimes not seeming to react to a shock.

There was a sharp ozone smell in the air, like one gets if electrical equipment burns out.

"Fuck you, cunt!" Kate was screeching, one hand repeatedly pressing the shock button, the other between her own legs where she could thrum her clit as her desire boiled over into a sort of rumbling continuous orgasmic bliss.

I stepped back and let her do it. Marion was virtually mindless, twitching as her muscles reacted to impulses of electricity, gurgling now, voice torn to a croaking soreness by the repeated screams.

Karl was standing by me, and I moved against him when he slipped a hand under the silly "military" skirt to play with my mound.

And soon it was over, Marion hanging from bleeding wrists, mouth sagging open, eyes glazed and un-seeing.

Her daughter, sobbing, defeated, sperm oozing from her twin raped orifices and dripping onto the deck.

"Oh, hell. You've gone a bit far with her" Dean grumbled.

Catching hold of Marion's bikini clad breasts and jerking them cruelly, he only provoked a dull moan from the shocked woman.

"Sorry" Kate gasped, "but I was just soooghhh turned on. It was gorgeous seeing her jerk. I just couldn't stop!"

There was the making of a squabble here. Slave girl exceeding her duties. I wondered if Kate was in for a beating.I gave Karl the nod to stay out of it.

When clients sometimes go a bit wild with a girl and spoil her too quickly, it is best if we let them make all the following decisions. Prevents any accusation of us having taken away any of their fun.

"She'll need a bit of a rest, Dean. How about you pass me that cattle prod,it's not as serious as the cunt-lip clipper,and we'll show the kid why mommy dear's gone all dozy!" Tom suggested.

"Oogh yes… put it up her arcehole!" Paul sniggered. He was poking his index finger in the still open entry to that ravished back passage, his lover Roger standing close behind him, one hand rubbing over Pauls' military style pants where a firm length of hardening cock-meat protruded from the flies, getting bigger, recovering quickly from its first climax of the session.

They so enjoyed hurting a pretty woman there.

Their sperm still drooled from the open sphincter, some traces of brown leaving wet skid marks down Pennys' upper thighs almost down to her stocking tops.

Remembering the scenario we had more or less rehearsed, Tom sauntered over to me and gave a sort of military salute.

"Will that be alright, Ma'am ?" he smiled holding the cattle prodder ready.

"Do you think you can make her talk?" I asked.

Tom's smile grew wider. "Don't rightly know, Miss Govash, but I sure as hell know I can make her scream!"

"Very well…if you must. I was hoping to have all the information by now. They are proving most obstinate."

"Don't worry, Miss. They'll talk soon enough. We just have to hurt them some more!"

Everyone moved to where we could see the girl from behind.

Tom winked at me, and very gently ran the tip of the prodder down Pennys' back and between the very sweet rounded cheeks of her bottom. Those pretty red and black bikini panties had been pulled halfway down her legs, helping to stop her kicking too well. The tiny bra. had somehow been popped upwards so it hung round her neck and her lovely young breasts were deliciously exposed, actually looking more sexy with the bikini bra above the pert pink nipples than they would have been totally naked.

She was sobbing, her eyes wide with absolute terror, tears streaking her eye shadow and mascara, head twisting from side to side to try and see what we were doing behind her.

Dean had pushed Kate to her knees in front of him. It seemed he had decided not to get mad at her for taking the electric torture a bit too far, and would be satisfied by some typical slave behaviour. She knew what to do, of course, and had extracted his cock and was just sliding her lips over the swollen glans when Tom pressed the trigger and we saw the teenager's body arch away from us and heard that wonderful sound of surprised agony rip from her throat in a piercing shriek . . .

Dean's prick leapt almost as much as the kid.

"You nearly put my fuckin' eye out!" Kate grumbled, earning herself a vicious slap round the face from Dean.

"Just do your fucking job!" Dean growled, pushing his considerably roused cock well down her throat.

Tom couldn't get the prod into the girl for a minute, her body shaking as she convulsed from the suspending spreader bar, but when he found the entrance he shoved it up her rectum with a brutal thrust and triggered the shock again, this time pressing forward so the poor slut was impaled on the cattle prodder even as she screamed and danced for us in her total agony.

Marion had found her voice again, the awful sound of her daughters' agony rousing her from the shock induced torpor, and she was screaming at us that she would tell us what we wanted if only we left Penny alone.

Considering she knew absolutely nothing, of course, this sounded rather a clever trick, and Tom pulled the prodder from Pennys' anus and walked over to the mother.

"I'm glad you have decided to co-operate, Mrs. West" he smiled. "We don't like having to hurt people, you know!".

The fact that Dean was clearly enjoying fucking his girls' face for all he was worth rather belied Toms' words.. . . . and Roger was using his revitalised member to arcefuck a delighted Paul, who was bending over the trolley of torture tools to present his ever-ready arce for attention.

"So tell us all about your dealings with the drugs cartel, Mrs. Weston", Tom smiled up at the hanging womans' tear-smeared face.

He reached up and tugged the woman's tiny bra. down, grinning as her large nipples popped into view. She whimpered as he lifted the prodder and ran the tip over the exposed buds.

"I…er…well, they don't let us know much…I just carried some drugs for them….Penny didn't know anything about it, I swear. I just wanted the money for…well, for our holiday !"

I was standing next to Tom. He looked at me and gave a shrug of his shoulders, then, without a word, he began to take off his clothes.

Marions' frightened eyes watched, her body quivering as the shocked muscles still fought to regain their normal control after the serious electric shocks.

Totally naked, Tom walked over to a desk to lay down his clothes, then came back and saluted me.

"Permission to cause actual physical damage, Ma'am?"

"You think she is lying?" I queried.

"Yes Ma'am. I believe she must have been trained to resist interrogation techniques. She and the girl are probably important members of the main drug cadre organisation."

"We're not!" Marion cried. "For God's sake, we haven't done anything wrong. You can't do this to us. Please, listen to me. You can check out everything I've told you. We're just TOURISTS".

I smiled at Tom. "I see what you mean. She's good. Almost sounds as if she believes it herself. What do you want to do – cut her tits off or go hurt the girl some more?"

"NOOOOOGGHHHH" Marion shrieked, suddenly gaining a remarkable reserve of energy as she twisted so deliciously hanging helplessly in front of us. My vagina was oozing. This vision of uncomprehending terror is such a wet-making thing.

"I think we'll torture the girl" Tom grunted.

"Then I'll unclip the shock bar from her mother. Maybe we could let her see how the kid takes serious electrical input !"

"Excuse me, Miss Govash . . ." Tom smiled,"Be careful when you take it out. You don't want to get your clothes dirty !"

"Oh, good point Major" I smiled. "Perhaps I might be more comfortable if I followed your example?"

"Well, I don't think either of these bitches will be telling anyone about how we treated them, Ma'am. Other than the prison officers of course. If they make it that far!"

"Help me with my blouse please, Major."

"Pleasure Ma'am!"

When I bent forward as I lowered my panties, Tom could not resist slipping his hand between my thighs from the rear and cupping the extremely moist pout of swollen pussy meat I was revealing. We both shivered with pleasure at the look in Marion's eyes. . . .horror, slow dawning realization that we were perverts, the sudden hand of sick fear clenching her heart as she understood that we were doing this because we enjoyed it, and that there was probably no hope that anything she said would stop us.

Tom unclipped my bra., and as I shook the straps down my arms and straightened up, I faced Marion naked but for stockings and boots. I smiled at her. "You'll feel better without this inside you, Mrs. West. Let me just unscrew these little clips and . . . oogh, you must have wet yourself. Oh dear. What a mess. Like pink champagne, dear. Must have a little blood in it for colouring! How quaint."

I withdrew the steel shock bar.

"There. Now you can concentrate on watching what we do to that girl of yours. And I really must get those four to concentrate. Anyone would think we were having an orgy."

The timing was just right, Dean gasping with the final hurried effort of thrusting his cock even further down Kate's throat as he began to ejaculate and Roger had pulled out of Pauls' backside just enough to spurt five creamy jets up onto the little hollow where Pauls' bum cheeks and spine met.

This was so he could then bend even lower and lap his own semen from his lovers' flesh. Those boys really enjoyed body fluids.

I bent forward,too, making Marion gurgle with disgust as I ran my tongue up the slit between her bruised pussy lips and flicked her little clit button with the tip of my tongue. I could feel Toms' penis slide over my left buttock, feel the sticky strand of snail-like pre-come he left. He was obviously fully roused, and there seemed no urgency to hurt Penny. Let her see what nice friendly folk we were first. So I licked Marion more firmly, setting my hands on her sweat wet hips, jutting my arse out for Tom.

"My God, you are disgusting!" Marion wailed as my tongue slipped a little deeper inside her cleft.

All I could say was "Mmmmmmm".

Then "MmmmMMMMOOOOGHHHFFFF" as Toms' penis slid firmly inside my excited vagina, meeting no resistance at all.

He is one of the POP clients I allow total access to my body.

Partly that is because he pays us an enormous amount of money, but it is mainly because I like his style of cruelty and enjoy his company. He's a first class lover, too, knowing not only how to turn a woman into a screaming banshee filled with pain but also how to spend time and patience to bring a willing partner to a full and fierce climax. Bent forward, pussy sucking, I knew I presented a very tempting target, bare rump above dark stocking tops.

The mark of Toms' skill was that he did not ram his cock into me as most men would do when presented with a pussy target so temptingly displayed. He slid gently forward, holding my hips to ease me back so I could feel his dome reach the end of my vagina, his belly meeting my bottom cheeks with an increasing pressure that made my pussy flower and want him even deeper.

I bit Marion, gently, like a lover, and groaned with pleasure as Tom very slowly pulled himself almost out of my clinging wetness before thrusting back a little harder.

I applied my natural talents to Mrs. Wests' sex zone, tongue delving, flicking, rasping and probing, lips kissing, sucking, varying from zephyr contact to urgent pressing, teeth nibbling, stretching, gently grinding and sometimes hurting just enough to let me feel her belly muscles clench as pain twitched her responses.

I can forget about torture when lovemaking gets this good.

My vagina walls were hardening, forming little ribbed furrows as blood pumped into the excited flesh.

My nipples grew, tingling as they slid against Marions' thighs, reacting instantly as Tom spared a moment to tweak both aureoles and squeeze just hard enough to make me shudder.

Between my legs I could feel wetness as my juices began to ooze down my inner thighs.

Tom was pumping harder, faster, building up speed in my love nest, making wet wind trap noises from within me, and knowing I was nearly there because I get rather noisy in the heat of passion and start swearing far more than I normally do.

"Yes. . fuck me . . .oogh . .fucker . .hard . . in .. .fuck . . yes s s . oooghh. . ."

Then I tasted Marion's cunt. She had responded, the dirty bitch. Tied up and with her own daughter being raped and tortured, the bitch was letting me taste her love juice.

It never ceases to amaze me how powerful sex is.

I was creaming, bubbling, juicing like a shuddering volcanic fountain, those lovely muscle-clenching thrills jabbing down my legs and making my toes curl.

Tom was emptying his maleness inside me, grunting and gasping as if he had just run a hundred metre hurdle race.

And Mrs. Marion Wests' quite large clitoris was standing to attention like a miniature cock between her flared labia petals. . . . .

I was panting, still using my mouth on the woman because I was certain she was enjoying it, and I wanted to shame her by making her react even more blatantly, when a shriek of agony reverberated round the cabin, effectively and virtually instantly destroying the female erection my tongue was playing with.

Roger and Paul were pushing needles into Pennys' nipples.

They secured her ankles to another bar and brought her spreadeagled body to a roughly 45 degree forward slope, thus encouraging her very shapely breasts to hang in a really accessible way. Her arms and legs were wide spread on the bars. We could do anything we wished to any part of her body without hindrance. Her panties still stretched in a low wide line from mid thigh to mid thigh, a little splash of scarlet and black between the dark mesh-stockinged open legs. The high heeled shoes looked quite sexy on her small feet below the padded restraints on her ankles. The boys had pulled her bra. off to get at her nipples with their needles and pliers.

They worked as a team, well practised at the art of tit torture, one of their favourite perversions. Roger squeezed a morsel of pale pink nipple flesh between the serrated jaws of a pair of long-nosed pliers. He smiled at Penny, twisting and pulling the entrapped morsel hard enough to make her yelp, then he almost gently pulled the pinched flesh forward until her breast seemed pointed. . . and that was when his lover gleefully probed the straining nipple with a long sharp needle, making the squealing girl shake her torso so violently that Roger lost his grip, smiled even more, and started again.

This time they held her breast, cupping the sleek underflesh, lifting it while the nipple was stretched, then gouging cruel fingers into the yielding meat to hold it still for the needle to penetrate her skin.

They were using quite large needles, but although long, they were actually quite fine. The idea is to look impressive whilst actually doing very little physical damage.

The victim doesn't know this, of course. She sees a six inch glinting steel shaft enter one side of her trapped meat and suddenly pop out the other side, impaled, skewered, run through with cold steel.

It hurts, less actually than you might suppose, but when two naked men are obviously thoroughly enjoying tormenting your nipples, you scream. Loud. And poor Marion pleads with us to listen to her, to understand that she really is just an innocent tourist, and for God's sake to stop hurting her poor little girl . . .

Dean and Kate had also removed what clothing remained after their lovemaking. Now Marion could see two nude women and five naked men, all of whom seemed determined to hurt her and her daughter. At long last, she began to understand that we did not really care about her supposed drug running. She sobbed, wincing as if she felt the pain each time her daughter squealed as another needle pierced her lovely breasts.

Dean crudely pushed two fingers into her vagina.

"Want to stop the boys puncturing the kid's tits, Darling?" he grinned, finger fucking her with obscene pleasure.

"Yes……please, anything!" Marion gurgled, a tiny ray of hope in her pain-wracked eyes.

"Give us a show, then. We all like watching a good porn show. Maybe we'd stop hurting you both if you did something we'd enjoy!"

"What . . . what sort of show?"

An extra loud scream from Penny. The boys had driven six needles through her right nipple, looped a thin cord round the base of the spiked teat, and jerked it upwards very savagely, the cord catching under the needles, mashing them together, and stretching the pale pink aureole to a three inch peak of intense agony.

"YESSSSS. . . anything!" Marion screamed. "I'll do anything. . .just stop them hurting Penny!".

Break time.

This may sound patronising, but please believe me, I don't mean it to be so. It's just that I know most people have not actually been able to enjoy a real live sex and torture session, and when I say it is extremely tiring, they probably think that is nonsense. But they are wrong. The men need some time to re-generate their sexual prowess, even if they do take certain helpful stimulants, and we women do like a little time out to powder and preen or do a discreet little pussy wash after getting a little too juicy down there.

And we have found by experience that our captives perform better, too, if there are regular down times for them to have a breather.

We each enjoyed helping pull the pins out of Pennys' nipple, then gave her one last jolt of pain as she was dabbed down with a very strong antiseptic.

And we went over to the bar for drinks, all staying virtually naked but for boots and so on, sitting on the bar stools as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Karl took a carafe of sugared water over to let both our guests have a drink.

Surprisingly, neither of them made a fuss. Mum had asked her daughter if she was alright, and Penny had gurgled "I'm alright, mummy, but we've got to get out of here!"

Her mother didn't reply. I was pretty sure she knew she would be lucky to get out of this little game alive.

"You got the picture?" Dean leered. Mrs. West and daughter sat on the edge of a large king sized bed.

They were not restrained in any way. Both wore the suspender belts, dark mesh nylons, and high heeled shoes as before.

Dean had just explained to Mrs. West what sort of act he wanted her to perform with her pretty daughter.

White faced and trembling, Marion held her daughters' hand and tried to keep her voice from breaking into tears as she told Penny she must do what Dean had told her.

We were all watching, and had drawn comfortable loungers up alongside the bed. The boys were playing with each other, just gently peeling their foreskins back and forth. Kate was kneeling so she could spend a little time licking Deans' cock and balls whilst still able to watch the command performance. Tom and I were curled together, his hands toying nicely with my breasts, and Karl sat behind Kate, one hand between her legs, just keeping her fires stoked.

"Open your legs, Darling" Marion choked, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, Mom. . . I can't do this . . . it's disgusting!"

"Please, Sweetheart. Do it to stop them hurting us!".

"That's right, Kid," Dean chuckled. "Give us a real dirty fuck show, or we'll put red hot fucking needles in your tits next time!"

Destruction of innocence. Enforced obscenity. Forcing a nice normal clean-living mother and daughter to perform like whores. Absolutely delicious.

Penny spread her legs. The fairly fine thatch on her pudenda was a mid brown, slightly lighter than her hair. The quite neat slit line just showed the crinkle edges of her labia, recovered from the rape now, dry and pale.

"Spread her cunt!" Dean ordered. "Go on, peel those pussy lips open, cunt. We want to see her crease all wide and ready for your fucking tongue, don't we ?"

We all watched with smiles on our faces as mother dear reached between her teenage daughters' thighs and, for the first time in maybe fifteen years, actually took hold of the rolled in flesh of pussy meat, then gently eased it apart, the darker pink crinkly meat showing between the puppy dogs' ears held open and a little upwards so we could all see right into the opening of Pennys' cunt.

The girl arched her back slightly, almost looking as if she was enjoying it until you saw her face all screwed up with absolute loathing. That arching was her struggling to stay open, to lie there and let her mother pull open her cunt to show all us grinning naked perverts.

"Finger fuck her first."

"Oh God forgive me," murmured softly from Mrs. West as she so gently eased her right forefinger half an inch into the eye of her kids' pussy, trying to do it so delicately that she could pretend it wasn't happening.

Then the whip slashed down over Marions' bottom and she screeched in pain and rolled off the bed to tumble on deck in a tangle of stockinged legs, the kid struggling into a sitting up position, not knowing mom had a red line etched over her arse from Deans' short rhino whip.

They had not noticed it lying ready to hand, and they had no idea what an acknowledged expert Dean was with a whip.

He fairly jumped to his feet, sending Kate tumbling backwards into Karl, who grinned as he got an armful of bare girl, his hands almost automatically closing over her well filled boobs to steady her fall.

The whip whistled down, and Marion hunched up into a defensive ball as another burning stripe etched a livid line over her shoulders.

"Leave her alone!" Penny yelled, foolishly but bravely swinging her legs off the bed in an attempt to help her mother.

Before her feet had touched the ground, Dean had back-swung the short but heavy whip and hit her full in the face. She gurgled with horror, blood spilling, the force and incredible explosive pain smashing her backwards to sprawl open legged and only half conscious for a moment, not conscious enough, unfortunately, to take evasive action as the second whip stroke fell over her left thigh, slicing open the pretty mesh nylon, drawing a little more blood from a deep wealt.

"Don't you dumb cunts understand the position you're in?" Dean raged. He swung the whip menacingly.

"Oh God. . . your face . . .Oh, Darling what has he done?", from a disoriented Marion getting to her knees, her own pain forgotten when she saw the blood spilling over the youngsters' cheeks.,.

This was the first real sign of actual damage. Needles hardly leave a mark. Electricity only leaves hidden internal blisters and not a sign on the outside, at least for a while.

Dean kicked her under her ribs. She twisted and rolled to the side, crying as she gulped to try and drag breath into lungs so viciously emptied. Her legs were open just wide enough for his foot to lash forward between her thighs, kicking her right in the groin. Her legs drew up and she struggled to her knees. This meant her breasts were hanging down and looking very full and tempting. So he kicked her in the left breast.

Penny had made it off the bed. The whip stroke had actually split her lower lip and given her a purplish wealt on her right cheek. A good backhander would have left similar marks.

She wiped her mouth and coughed as the metal taste filled her mouth, but, for a sixteen year old, she had some guts. She almost threw herself into Dean, hands clawing for his face with murderous intent.

Kate and Karl were like a good team. They had the girl from behind, screwing their legs round hers, grabbing her wrists, and hauling her back onto the bed. They were laughing. We don't usually have to fight our victims!

In a few moments, Penny was spreadeagled and roped down.

Suddenly she looked like a sixteen year old again. Defenceless, scared, totally helpless.

Dean was on his knees with one arm round Marions' throat, bending her backwards. He bit her ear, not a love bite. He bit it like Mike Tyson, chewing off a bit of the lobe. Then he began to tighten his grip and she realized he was cutting off her breath. Her hands came up, clawing at his arm. He squeezed even tighter, and Marion saw dancing tiny star bursts in the space before her eyes, like closing your eyes after watching fireworks and still seeing remnants of the display on your retina. Her legs seemed to straighten out as if they were galvanised, her heels drumming on the floor. She made a little pool as urine dribbled from her urethra unbidden. Her eyes bulged. Her long auburn hair began to shimmer out in a cloud as her head shuddered and twisted in a desperate effort to get free of the choking forearm. Black shadows started to edge the stars towards the centre of the screen. Unbelievably, she felt a different sort of wetness in her loins, an unwanted but unstoppable feeling of sexual arousal. She heard Deans' voice, right next to her bloody ear yet sounding as if he was shouting at her from a long way away.

"You'll fuckin' do what I tell you or I'll fuckin' KILL you, BITCH!!!" . . and she could breathe as he threw her head away from his hairy chest and she rolled face down, gurgling and gulping air, the sex feeling overwhelmed with a sense of thankfulness that she wasn't going to die after all.

Poor cow.

I watched the colour return to her cheeks and wondered if she knew how much better it would have been for her if Dean had simply choked the life out of her.

This time she stuck her finger up her daughters' cunt as if she wanted to find out how deep it was in one push.

"Two fingers, cunt!"

"Now get your face in there and suck her pussy. She comes, and I don't heat those needles up red hot to stick in her tits again. She doesn't come, and when I've turned her tits into a fuckin' pin cushion, I cut the fuckers off. You got me, Mrs. Fucking West?"

Sitting on the bed by Penny's outspread wrists, Kate bent low and gently let her nipples run over the angry bruise on the young girls face. "Hope you're hearing this, Sweetie. You sure as hell better get your rocks off for Mommy dear, or she's gonna see you fuckin' bleed!"

We had all seen two women together before, the classic pose, making Marion scoot round and squat over Pennys' face, then lean forward so she could dip her mouth into Pennys' snatch. Hell, we had done it. . . or rather we girls had and the men had joined in fucking or fondling hot bits that took their fancy.

But making an innocent mother tongue her even more innocent daughter in front of us nudie perverts was a gas.

Dean was getting a distinct hard on. He clambered on the bed behind the bent over mother. She groaned as his cock slid into her cunt from behind. He gripped her hips and began to ride her, all the time taunting her, telling her what a filthy bitch she was, a paedophilic pervert seducing her own daughter, and gleefully reminding her that she had better be good at it or she'd see Pennys' tits chopped off.

Penny, of course, was looking straight up at Deans' balls, watching his cock press deep in her mothers' hole, then re-emerge coated in shiny fluids before slurping back even deeper.

Kate thought this was a good opportunity for the girl to taste a bit of cunt juice, too, so she put both hands under Penny's neck and hoisted her face up to mash in the juncture of pistoning cock and parting pussy lips.

This naturally offended a sixteen year old who had been a virgin only a few short hours ago. She tried her hardest to twist her face away from mommys' swollen pussy petals and the thick veiny shaft pumping in and out of them.

"Girl, you just don't fuckin' listen, do you?" Kate snarled in her ear.

"You gotta cum like a proper little fuck toy for Mama dear, or we start to use red hot needles on your titties, girl. Now, fuckin' lie back and make like you like a bit of nice sexy cunt sucking or I swear I'll make you scream so much you'll lose your fuckin' mind!"

Kate's sweet advice actually seemed to be heeded. The teenager stopped struggling and seemed to lie more relaxed, her leg muscles no longer corded as she stopped pulling against her bonds.

I don't know if it was fear or exhaustion, but when she stopped being quite so wound up, her cunt petals actually spread a little. We could see the inner groove, wet and shiny as Marion desperately licked and flicked her tongue in her daughters' hole.

It took time, but the girl eventually began to quiver. We saw how her nipples had swollen. Her belly was moving in a new slightly suggestive way. The young cunt was starting to feel heat build up deep in her belly.

Dean was still riding the mother. I had to admire his staying power. For variety he had pulled out of her cunt a couple of times and spent a few minutes thrusting into her arcehole.

We could all see that Marion was reluctantly exhibiting signs of being turned on, too. Believe me, if a healthy and sexually proficient mature woman has to endure rape for any length of time, there comes a moment when her body switches from non-cooperation and outrage to acceptance.

At that stage, fluids flow. If you have got to endure the fucking, at least squirt a bit of lubricant into the system to prevent it hurting so much. Doing that triggers the receptors in the upper walls of your vaginal canal. Hey, body. . . . I'm oozing pre-come so I must be turned on. Engorge the furrows. Poke out the nipples. Stiffen the clitoris and start to feel the shivers down the thighs. . . that's better . . bit more juice down below, engage blood transfusion to cervical receptors.

And suddenly she's panting, her tongue reaming her own daughter's pussy like it tastes of honey, her arce high, pushing back against the thrusts of a naked man she hates and is scared to death of, but who is pumping his love tool against all those buzzing receptors that are about to scream YESSSS in her brain and let orgasmic spasms surge right down to her toes. . . . and the pheromones attack even her scared shitless daughters' mind, cancelling outrage, dulling shame, forcing electric impulses of pleasure into wet hot sex flesh.

We were all watching quietly. Yes, the people who live for the thrill of tearing a woman to shreds, silenced and intent, waiting to see if this bizarre duo could reach such an unlikely plateau of sexual arousal.

Even Kate, perhaps the person least aware of any tender feelings, was actually gently rolling the teenagers nipple in her fingers, softly, not making those healed pin pricks hurt, but adding an insistent glow of arousal to the confused girls mind.

It would be nice to say we got them both to come.

It would have been a victory of vice over innocence.

And we know how ashamed it would make them feel.

But Dean came, and as he pulled out of Marion, his drooling sticky strands of sperm splattered onto the teenage girls' face. . . and her brave attempt to lie back and endure went by the board in a wave of total disgust. She went mental, bucking and heaving, totally throwing her mother's rhythm and nearly heaving her off the bed.

She was shouting "No" and thrashing from side to side. No way was she going to come for Moma.

So we changed tack, just because it was fun to do it, and hung her mother up by her outspread ankles. We held Penny and slapped her a bit to get her attention. "We're going to show you what real pain is, Penny. Your mother is going to scream. You can help her. As soon as you promise to suck her cunt until she comes, we'll stop the pain. D'you understand?"

The boys were in for this. They helped as we screwed spiked nipple clamps on Marions' gorgeous tits. They held her cunt lips for Karl and I to screw two more spiked plate clamps onto those, too, then they ran fine wire from nipple clamp to pussy lip via two small roller systems, one each side of the upside down brunette. These systems were clamped to steel stanchions.

Then we all took turns at winding the little ratchet handles on the rollers, hearing the click as the non-return cogs tightened the wire, and watching as Marion realized what was happening to her widening pussy gash and sideways elongating breasts.

Marion tried not to cry out. She was such a brave soul, not wanting her daughter to hear her screaming . . . so we dripped a couple of c.c. of sulphuric acid into the swollen silk soft red meat crinkled just below Marions' love button and listened to noise you wouldn't believe as her cunt slit smoked and her flesh bubbled and dissolved.

The noise was so loud, we couldn't hear Penny squealing "I'll do it!" at the top of her voice until the agony made her mother pass out.

An injection of stimulants brought Marion back to awareness. We rinsed her cunt clean, but she had a dollar sized scar etched into the centre of her crease, and we did not slacken the wire clips holding her apart.

With her long auburn hair swirling down almost to the deck, her net-stockinged legs wide open, supporting her upside down frame, cunt lips drawn apart, breasts elongated sideways, and face a mask of terror, Marion was quite an enticing sight.

With Penny standing there, head bent down, tongue tasting a bitter aftertaste on the crease of her mother's acid-etched cunt, the picture was even better.

Of course, Marion was in such pain that there was no way she could have experienced any pleasure at having her pussy sucked whoever was doing it.

With mounting glee, we all shouted obscene encouragement at the teenage girl, offering crude ideas of what she could try to get her mother to come. We also threatened her, all pretence of being remotely interested in drug smuggling now forgotten. Instead, the clients detailed acts of barbaric cruelty they said the poor girl would see performed on her mother.

Desperately, Penny used her fingers to try and drag a response from that wide-spread pussy, but her enthusiastic efforts helped our spike pad stretching to hurt even more, and Marion was never likely to feel pleasure in the pussy department again.

And then the moment I had been expecting for quite a while actually happened.

Dean got bored and decided it was time to see a bit of blood.

He gave his brutal little sex slave a short woven snakeskin whip and told her to "warm the lazy cunt up a bit", which Kate decided meant slicing the whip in a wide full power arc to crack with a noise like a pistol shot right into the crease where the curves of Penny's buttocks met the top of her legs.

The effect was almost comical. She leapt upwards as if kicked up the bum, sprawling forward into her mother's hanging body.

Both of them screamed, Penny the loudest. She had just about regained her stability when the whip sliced over her shoulders, and she twisted round and made a valiant attempt to make a run for it.

Dean's fist hit her full in the mouth, splitting her lower lip. She went down in a heap, the whip hissing through the air to cut her shoulder open.

There is a time in nature when the pack settles in for the kill. Wild dogs or wolves circle and snap at their prey for ages. Vultures around a wounded prey circle and cackle, generating the necessary urge to rush in for the final assault. And we had become a killer pack, ready to move from all pretence of patient application of pain to the violent explosive cruelty of sadistic release.

As the whip tore open the young girl's writhing body, knives started to slash at her mothers flesh.

I side-stepped out of the way of a squirting jet of blood from the severed left breast of poor Marion. The slashed section swung at the end of the line, one cunt lip returning to shape as the tension was removed, but only in time to be sliced open by a long knife blade being thrust into the gurgling woman's cunt.

On the floor, Penny was trying to hold her stomach together where a really vicious slashing whip stroke had parted the lower curve of her belly from her groin to her belly button.

Paul and Roger were both pissing on the squirming girl, laughing as they tried to aim their golden rain into her mouth.

Tom was opening Mrs.West from above her pubic bone to below her slashed breasts. I was stroking his cock, peeling the foreskin back and forth as he grunted with the effort of gutting the dying victim. He stood still, grunted "Oh, yes, Sam….do it!", and waited for me to drop to my knees in the rather slippery wet pool of blood so I could suck his glans and rub him fast and furious for a short while until he gasped "Now!" and let me direct his ejaculation into the gaping mess he had slit open in Marion's belly.

I think Karl helped tear the girl apart…. it was all a bit messy…. but after a brief period of rather unpleasantly malodorous gutting and slicing, everyone seemed satisfied that the victims had been finished off in a suitably gory fashion.

Odd slices of tit and twat littered the floor. We were all dripping blood and worse. The smell of ruptured gut and expelled faeces filled the cabin. And everyone was smiling.

You can see why we are peculiar people. The fact that anyone could enjoy such a scene is beyond the comprehension or understanding of normal people, which is why my business is so successful.

Tom and I left together. After a long hot bath, we would make love. Yes, as rapists and sadists we can still enjoy slow and sensual sex. And he was one of the few clients that I allow to bed me. He is such a good lover . . . .

END of PART TWO.

The voyage of S.S.Desadee continues soon.

__“Ground Meat for the Fishes.”____

A Sex Sadism story by Susan.

Mf/f, f/f, extreme, N.C., rape, torture, snuff.

Can be linked to the previous story as:

Purveyors of Pain.

Part Three.

As before, please bear in mind that this is a story of brutality and cruelty, torture and snuff. If you do not find this type of story interesting, please do not even open the story. It is not for the faint hearted.

I am surprised by the number of visitors to the site who condemn snuff stories and suggest they should be banned.

Virtually all the stories on this site have themes dealing with behaviour not considered normal, but the reader is given ample warning of the content of most stories and if he or she chooses to read them, and is offended by their content, the responsibility should not be laid at the door of the authors.

Susan.

NEW BLOOD. . . . .

My name is Samantha Govash. I own a small but profitable shipping line.

Two ships transport genuine cargo and provide the various authorities with all the paperwork needed to convince anyone who is interested that this is a genuine small specialist shipping line, inherited from my late father.

A third ship, the S.S.Desadee, is the one that actually makes the real profit.

She is deliberately unmemorable. Like any commercial vessel she can slip into harbour to ostensibly load small quantities of high priced electronic equipment.

She is crewed by a specialist team, hand picked because each of them, male or female, has an unhealthy interest in some form of illegal sexual activity or is wanted by the law for serious criminal behaviour.

The Desadee offers them a safe haven to enjoy their own perverse lusts or keep their freedom whilst enjoying a fairly luxurious lifestyle..

I demand and get unswerving loyalty from every member of my crew. It is understood that failure to deliver this would not result in anything so mundane as the sack. Both staff and clients know that a loose tongue or a careless word can result in a most unpleasant slow death.

My ship is a floating paradise for perverts interested in sexual sadism.

And they pay a very high price to enjoy their lusts to the full in the secure surroundings of the Desadee.

There are rules, very strict rules.

Secrecy is paramount, for obvious reasons, and if any client should be deemed to be a bad risk, we kill them and probably members of their family, too.

This has happened.

It is not so difficult. The rest of my clients are well-placed and wealthy people. If I point out that we are all in danger from someone developing a conscience or becoming involved with the wrong people, there are plenty of offers to help to seek and destroy.

New clients are the most difficult, of course.

Before they have been on board and taken part in illegal activities, they pose a definite security threat. We resort to some quite bizarre methods to vet them before giving them clearance to become members of POP.

There are plenty of wealthy people out there who wish to become members of our exclusive club. They let it be known in certain circles that their interests are extreme, the Pay to Play kinky whorehouses of L.A., the quiet country clubs found in the wilds of the South African bush, the privately run mental homes in the forests of South America, or the playgrounds of Europe.

One of our existing members picks up the scent, and suggests we check the contact out, then I or Karl would probably go and somehow get close to the prospective client to find out more about them.

Harko Sayanni was such a person, a Japanese industrialist who had purchased a set of ultra violent comics from a firm we have friendly relations with in Spain.

His offer of a considerable fee for any actual photographic depictions of what was shown in the comics intrigued us.

Each of this companies comics featured young ladies being torn to shreds.

We found he was using fully encrypted communication which enabled him to receive illegal electronic mail, allowing us to send him some very detailed photographs of a young lady being impaled on a metal spear. The fee for each picture was ridiculously expensive, but he paid by No-Check and asked for more.

A set showing a very sweet sixteen year old lose her breasts whilst hanging from a hook inserted into her anus cost him more than most people earn in six months.

Karl took over.

The web is a wonderful way for people to communicate, though few realise how easy it is for the authorities to intercept and copy items, which can be distressing.

That is why, on the Desadee, we use a triple back play encryption system for all business mail, so secure that we have not yet found any hacker programme capable of deciphering it.

Our signals are bounced and relayed, so that the geographical location of their origin is hidden, and we change key features regularly.

To send criminally pornographic pictures to Harko Sayanni was thus secure, as all we needed to do was give him a temporary translator key then send streams of seemingly meaningless digital signals which his system could convert into deliciously detailed images of torn girl flesh.

His payments ensured that he was not likely to reveal that he had these images, and even if he did, they could not be traced back to us.

With this security in place, Karl exchanged details with Harko, about what turned him on, whether he would like to do it for real, and what would be his ideal phantasy to make reality.

And we learned that he already had a slave girl and was particularly keen on dismemberment, though he had never had the opportunity to perform his pleasures.

Pictures from Harko followed, and this was where we really decided he was a strong possibility as a new client.

He had a slim Japanese girl featured in his photographs. Ritual bondage, whips, candles, and needle work was shown in close up detail.

His chat with Karl was mainly saying how much he would like to cut off his pretty slaves' limbs after extensive and brutal torture.

He was talking about total destruction.

And when Karl suggested such things could be arranged for a certain fee, Harko begged for more details, immediately offering to pay in advance, a most unusual offer for our sort of customers.

I remember looking at the pictures Harko sent, the young slim girl virtually covered in complicated knotted ropes and a stiff-cocked naked Harko pulling one of her small breasts forward by the nipple and threatening it with a huge curved sword, grinning at the camera.

Karl and I were fucking after a pleasant afternoon helping a Texan oil man skin the buttocks of a big coloured girl he had bought.

“I sent him a bill and said he would be picked up by the helicopter on Thursday” Karl smiled, ruffling my hair. I was crouched on the bed sucking the remnants of our fuck off his cock. “Only trouble is, we've no Jap girls.”

“Mmmm….does he want Japs? They usually have such little tits” I grunted. “Anyway, I thought he wanted to top his slavegirl.”

“Turns out that's his wife. He's bringing her, wants her to see what he does.”

, “How do we know she's safe?” I asked, straddling Karl and moving up his body to position my extremely wet pudenda above his mouth.

“He tells me she really is his slave…loves it….she'll get off on the real deal, too. Or so he says. If she doesn't it will be a quick and rather messy divorce!”

I lowered myself down.

So nice, tongue sinking in, lapping, sucking…..

I was not too happy about Mr. Sayanni's wife.

Unlike her husband, she would not be considered legally responsible for what was done on the Desadee, so could be a weak link if she decided to stop being hubbies little torture slut……….

Conversation stalled for a while. I was far too busy having those delicious tremors of after burn that a skilfully administered licking can bring, and Karl's mouth was so full of my cunt that he would have been unable to do more than grunt.

When I first saw the prospective new member of our exclusive little club, I was amazed how tiny he was. I am a couple of inches under six foot, and Karl is just over. The Japanese gentleman who descended from the helicopter pad at the stern of S.S.Desadee was a bare five foot. His tiny wife was about the same, but so delicate looking that she reminded me of a geisha doll I had had as a little girl.

Much elaborate hand shaking and bowing. At least he spoke extremely good English, or we would really have been in trouble.

The wife was called Kobayen. She had big dark eyes and a face made up almost like a theatrical mask. She smiled shyly and trotted behind her husband like a little Manga cartoon girl.

We get to the point quickly once someone has passed enough checks to be allowed on board. If they are going to be a threat, it's too late to back track by then, so we have to make sure they will commit crime and thus self incriminate themselves. As usual, we had kept the victim of one of our other clients alive, despite her condition being irreparably damaged.

A newcomer was always asked to commence membership by being filmed killing a male or female “guest”. . . . . and Mr. Sayanni had readily agreed to this condition. Indeed, he seemed to be looking forward to it with great impatience.

Below decks, the Texan's negress was in a bad way. He had taken a six day trip, his pleasure being to skin a pretty “nigger” girl inch by inch between bouts of anal rape and similar pleasing pastimes. She was beyond any further use by now, totally out of her mind, virtually catatonic. She had only small sections of skin remaining on her body, mainly on her face and upper arms. Everywhere else had been peeled in some quite delightful ways, the raw flesh thus exposed being sprayed with elastoskin to stop her being able to slip away by bleeding to death.

Tex had obviously done more than just skin her between her legs. . . most of her vagina and all her pudenda had been removed. . . and her once large breasts were now strips of part roasted flesh that hung down like rags from heat seared cut wounds.

Harko was taken down to look at his proposed victim.

We have had a few occasions where people who could cheerfully hang a victim and enjoy sexual release as their victim strangles to death have been unable to even watch as a captive was whipped bloody. Some don't like the sight of blood, but love the cruelty of other types of torture. Quite a few are put off by the smell during what we categorise as serious torture, the entrails, the vacated bowels, even the sweat of terror and the iron tang of blood.

We make allowances, of course, and I was expecting this to be one of those times. The skinned negress was a very nightmarish sight.

To our surprise and delight, Harko walked round the half dead naked creature, gave a smile of pure evil, and asked if we would mind if he killed her by sawing off her arms and legs.

In the early evening, Karl and I went down to the cabin to set up the camera.

Kobayen was already there, bound from head to foot in soft white rope that crossed and re-crossed her body in the most intricate ways, leaving her suspended in mid air with her legs drawn up and slightly apart. The few areas of her actual flesh that could be seen were her small dark nippled breasts poking from a figure of eight ropework, and her dainty hairless little pussy, ringed with small golden lip rings and supporting a hanging golden container by tiny chains threaded into her cuntlip rings.

Her eyes were visible, staring with inscrutable intensity at the spread-eagled skinned negress on the cross beams before her.

Her husband was naked, revealing a well maintained body even if he was rather small. In proportion, his cock seemed quite big, but in reality was no more than seven inches long. He had taken some Viagra type of stimulant, as his cock remained at attention throughout the session.

When we were ready, the naked Japanese man began his work.

Using a small hammer and a metal panel-beaters hand pad, he started by holding the gently curved metal former under the woman's toes, then using the hammer to break every bone in each foot.

Unfortunately, the victim was in a world of her own and did not make much noise or even try to struggle in her bonds as her feet were expertly demolished by the Japanese businessman.

Karl and I were very impressed, however. This man was a true sadist.

We watched him turn both hands into flattened hamburgers of crunched bone and splattered flesh, then saw him use bone-saws to cut her legs off, through the knees first, then at the thigh.

She was dead long before he finished sawing her arms off, but it did not stop his obvious delight at the sound and feel of grating his way right through the limbs of the unfortunate negress.

Covered from head to toe in blood and bits of tissue, Harko then fucked his hanging wife, not caring in the least that we were clearing up the bits of severed girl meat to bin it ready to go in the grinder.

Needless to say, Mr. Sayanni and his pretty little wife were duly adjudged to have become members of Purveyors of Pain. No doubt the death of his next victim would be a much more entertaining spectacle.

He had chosen a busty South American young woman, one of the very welcome captives supplied by our friendly police chief, Carlos.

I asked if he would like Karl and I to help him dispose of her and was quite disappointed when he said he would rather just he and his wife did the work.

One does not argue with a client.

But I made sure he would be using a cabin that had remote control camera and sound systems linked to my cabin. If I could not join in, at least I could watch.

We don't mention it to clients, of course, but almost all areas on board are monitored by video cameras with sound recording. This includes the crew quarters and the captive holding cells. Any incidents that could lead to a security threat are thus known about and dealt with before trouble arises.

We were due to meet one other prospective client on this trip.

His name was Raynsford, John Raynsford.

I knew of him from contacts we have with certain gentlemen in the supply trade currently providing most of the unwilling girl flesh to the European market, namely the Albanian Mafia.

Like brothel owners and vice lords throughout the West, we know that the opportunities offered by ethnic wars are vast if you have no morals and plenty of ruthless ambition. Fetching good money anywhere, women are a very saleable item.

The Mafia have always known this and astounding numbers of young women from the ex-Soviet and Balkan regions have been seduced or simply abducted for use as sex objects in other wealthier areas.

We have bought a considerable number, and they have been duly disposed of and fed to the fishes.

Yacob Linsky is one of the few suppliers who knows what we do to the goods once they are in our hands. Having narrowly escaped capture in his recent forays in Bosnia, Yacob was sought for commanding a small group who were feared for their cruelty, raping and torturing mainly female prisoners. By a strange twist of fate, he became one of our suppliers and a girl we obtained from his group told us how he had raped her whilst forcing her to watch her sister being killed by having a grenade inserted into her well ravished pussy and detonated with spectacular results.……

We met…

We fucked.

We became friends, and Yacob has spent a couple of holidays on the Desadee as my guest.

He now supplies a selection of high quality victims, knowing they will never be able to testify against him if ever he should be captured.

And he has always bought his armaments from an Englishman, John Raynsford, who supplied him and others quite legitimately during the Croatian war. War over, and Yacob still wanted armaments, though for his Mafia style gangster usage rather than outright war.

Peacetime weapon trading is more discreet.

Raynsford wanted certain guarantees that he would not be connected with the sales, met Yacob, got drunk, was offered his choice of girl from a very attractive chorus line the Serbian provided, and, when she refused to let him fuck her arce, beat the shit out of her.

Far from being annoyed, Yacob suggested they tie the girl down and take turns raping her arcehole with various unpleasant objects that eventually left her bloody and unconscious.

This drunken orgy forged a firm friendship.

Raynsford suggested some of the payment for the arms he supplied could be offset against little weekend entertainments similar to the unplanned first session of buggery, and Yacob readily agreed.

Since then, they have killed eight women together.

With my permission, Yacob told the Englishman about our little enterprise, and he has applied for membership.

I was pleasantly surprised when he stepped from the helicopter. John is tall and quite handsome in a rugged sort of way, a sort of Arnie Swarzenegger type of macho man, rough hewn but with a face that can light up in a wicked smile women would find enchanting. He shook my hand, and I could feel his eyes briefly undress me. He moved aside, and a young woman almost tumbled from the chopper door. This was his project, and I liked what I saw at once.

“May I introduce Miss Emma Burnleigh-Smith, my…er…companion for the voyage!”

She stood about six foot tall, slightly top heavy with a bosom that threatened to erupt from the tight sweater over the fashion jeans. As soon as she spoke, I recognised the tones as those I knew so well from my own teenage years. Expensive private girls school, possibly, like mine, a Swiss finishing school.

“So pleased to meet you. John has told me so much about you. I'm so looking forward to the cruise. John tells me we are meandering around the Virgin Islands. Sounds absolutely gorgeous!”

I wished she had said “fabulous”. . . . but that would probably have made me burst out laughing.

I led them to the after deck. Sun loungers, parasols, long cool drinks in tall glasses served by uniformed cabin staff who know to keep their distance unless told otherwise.

I was in my Captains uniform which gave me the perfect excuse to suggest they make themselves comfortable whilst I went to change. I introduced Karl as my second in command. He always looks extremely good in full uniform, one of the benefits of his father insisting he belong to various youth army training groups when he was young.

As Karl shook hands I caught his glance of approval when he saw the delectable Miss Burnleigh-Smith.

They began the small talk getting to know you routine.

Actually, it is quite useful to learn a bit about the backgrounds of people we share the cruise with, and as the bosomy newcomer was one of those strange “in betweenies” she was more interesting than most.

Sorry. It's a term we use for the Burnleigh-Smiths type of passenger.

What I mean is, most girls arriving on Desadee are captured girlflesh. They do what they are told or we hurt them.

A few are sadists like myself. They know precisely what they want to do on the voyage.

And occasionally we have an in betweenie.

That's a girl who is partially corrupt. Maybe she's a dominatrix her partner wants to push beyond torment into full torture, maybe she's a prospective bride we have to ensure is going to share her future husbands' desire to torture women, or, like this new arrival, she is a sex slave in need of total domination.

Not that you would know the tall athletic girl was anyone's slave. She seemed very controlled and self-assured to me. But John Raynsford had told us he was part way through training her and wanted this voyage to complete her education.

Miss Emma Burnleigh-Smith.

She is twenty three and quite intelligent. Daddy is an art dealer in Surrey with a splendid “little cottage” which has six bedrooms, stables, two acres and a pool located just outside Cobham. Probably worth a penny or two, then.

As I had suspected, she had been to private boarding school but on the English South Coast rather than abroad.

A promising career in music came to an abrupt end when she and four country squire type friends were arrested for being in possession of and very much under the influence of a large amount of cocaine.

The fact that, during her arrest, Emma threw a policewoman down the curved marble staircase of the house they were weekending in did not do her a lot of good. She received a three month custodial sentence.

Though in one of the less traumatic so-called “open” prisons, life for a young woman who pronounced her words correctly and was obviously far better in class than any of the other inmates resulted in her being unmercifully bullied.

She spent days simply crying, afraid to venture out of her room.

The generous quantity of flesh sculpted into two imposingly out-thrust peaks on her chest, plus the attractive high cheek-boned face surrounded by a mane of dark lustrous hair meant that there was a lot of jealousy and lust generated among her cell mates.

And then one of the prison queens took her under her wing.

These dykes are present in every female gaol, unofficial gang leaders it is unwise to upset. The protection Emma received came at a cost, however. She had to become a subservient to her mistress, at first just in a “fetch and carry” mode, rather like the “fags” at British male private schools who are regarded as servants by their superior.

Before her three months were up, though, Emma had been made to perform other duties by her dyke protector, duties she still dislikes admitting to.

Leaving prison with a feeling of guilt made much worse by her knowledge of what she had been coerced into doing with her female protector, and the awful truth that she had secretly enjoyed it, Emma tried to make amends for her frivolous lifestyle by throwing herself into philanthropic pastimes.

She tried charity shop work, but the musty smell of both the items brought in for sale and the people who came in to buy them was too much for her aristocratic nostrils.

Genuinely concerned at the plight of refugees, she sought out work dealing with illegal immigrants…..and somehow met John Raynsford.

He was also interested in illegal immigrants but for a far from charitable reason.

He supplied information to contacts in Yacob's organization about female illegal immigrants who had evaded British immigration control. They were then taken care of long before the authorities got round to dealing with them.

At first it was a normal healthy relationship.

John found this upper deck totty a great help socially. Go to a meeting with a very pretty girl on your arm who sports a triple barrelled name, and you gained rapid entry to the upper echelons of the group.

Emma thought this strong reserved good looking man was something out of Bunty magazine, and she did not resist too long before finding that he was a strong and quite ruthless lover in bed, with excellent staying power though tending to lack much tenderness in the proceedings.

Indeed, the first time he snarled “Now you fuckin' bitch !” as he reached the peak of a very rapid rhythmic series of pelvic thrusts, Emma had felt rather ashamed because it made her come even more noisily than usual.

Then she made the mistake one night, after a few romantic hours over a candle lit meal sipping excellent Chateau Neuf du Pape, of telling John how she had been abused in prison.

To her horror, far from being sympathetic, he found it highly erotic and demanded that she give him a blow by blow (or, more accurately, a suck by suck) account of what happened.

He made her kneel in front of his unzipped flies, take out his erection, and, between every few words, lick his cock from scrotum to tip while she described exactly what she had been forced to do in prison.

Quite suddenly, their relationship had moved to a new level.

Perhaps, if she had resisted at this point, Emma may have been spared. But, confused by his reactions to her shameful story and feeling a cross between guilt and love, she accepted his sudden change of character and obeyed his first few commands.

“Tell me that bit again, you dirty lesbian cunt-sucker!” he growled as she gave him one juicy detail.

“Peel my foreskin back….lick that cheese from the groove, you dirty fuck bag!” he snarled.

“No…John, please, no!”

“Christ, a slut like you should be fucked up the arse! Turn round, hands and knees, and lift your fuckin' skirt up, cunt. I'm going to teach you what a slave should really learn….how to take it up the arcehole!”

Shocked, horrified, and just a little dreadfully excited, Emma tried to protest.

John hit her across the face, knocking her sideways on to the carpet.

“Get your fuckin' arce in the air or I'll kick the shit out of you, you toffee nosed cunt!” he shouted, standing over her and drawing back his foot as if about to kick her in the stomach.

Tingling with fear and shame, Emma knealt in front of him, hoisting her silky evening gown up to display her bottom. He had already peeled off her silk panties during the meal, when things were still gentle and loving.

He knealt behind her, strong hands clasping her hips. She could feel the wet tip of his penis sliding into the tight crease of her shapely buttocks.

His hands moved suddenly, fingers drawing her cheeks apart, forming a guide to hold his rod steady and on target, then he began to thrust at the rosebud brown pink ring of her totally virginal sphincter.

He had to work hard, and he used the most abusive foul language Emma had ever heard as he butted against her and slowly forced open that muscular ring.

She cried out when his glans slid inside, then actually shrieked as he drove viciously deep with repeated jack-hammer thrusts.

She knew he had penetrated her to the full length of his penis, feeling his belly crash against and flatten the cheeks of her rump.

He threw himself onto her, hands reaching round to rip her dress open and let his fingers gouge into the sumptuous forty plus generosity of her proud breasts.

But this was not fondling. He was crushing, pulling, twisting and clawing at her like a wild animal, deliberately making her scream with pain as he shafted her behind to its extremities.

When he eventually roared his climax and she could feel the strange wetness like a mini enema in her bowels, Emma lay face down and quietly sobbed.

He got up, tidied his clothes, and then took a handful of her lustrous chestnut hair. He hauled her to her feet, literally pulling her up by her hair.

“That was good, Emma. You will make a wonderful sex slave, won't you? You will do what I tell you, because I'm sure you don't want all your friends to know you spent your time in prison sucking the clit of a fifty year old dyke!”

Emma was sobbing, feeling ashamed of what had just happened, not only because anal sex was something she thought was disgusting but because, despite the pain and humiliation, she had rather enjoyed it.

Her bottom felt odd, still open, as if she had got off the toilet only part way through depositing a rather big turd. And sperm was trickling down her thighs. She wanted to wash herself clean, but John was holding her like a rag doll, not allowing her to move away.

“Answer me, bitch!” he snarled, shaking her by the hair.

Emma cried out. He was suddenly a totally different man. A monster, abusing her, talking in a way she had not heard before.

“Please, John, what are you doing? That hurts. Let me go. Why did you do that?”

To her total confusion and absolute horror, he punched her hard in her belly. With a gasp of real pain, poor Emma folded like a burst balloon and he let her drop, to lie squirming in pain on the carpet at his feet.

As he looked at the lovely young woman holding her hands to her stomach where he had hit her satisfyingly hard, John began to feel another erection coming on even though he had just come in her backside. He was holding back his real desire, of course. He wanted this well educated young lady to become a dirty submissive slave, his to command.

He wanted to be able to tell her to open her mouth and let him pee down her throat, see the self disgust in her eyes as she allowed herself to be used in any obscene way that took his fancy. And, more than that, he actually wanted to make her enjoy it.

“On your knees, Emma. I want you to suck your shit off my cock. And if you do it well, I might let you off being punished. Do it, or I'll make sure everyone you know learns about your prison sex games, and I'm sure you would just love for that to happen…..”

She begged. On her knees before him, her expensive dress hanging aside allowing her breasts to thrust out, his brutal finger marks showing red against the creamy flesh, her tell tale nipples still hard despite her fear.

“Please John, this isn't fair. I haven't done anything to deserve this. What on Earth's got into you? I was only telling you because I thought you loved me and I wanted you to know…”

“Shut up, Emma. Who the hell do you think you are? Look at you, a dirty bitch with spunk dribbling out of her arcehole, tits out like a fucking whore, fucking tears smearing all your bloody eye shadow. You look a mess, and that's what you are. My fucking heap of mess, understand? You do as I tell you or I'll make everyone look at you as though you're shit.

Think Daddy will like it when he knows you don't just sniff cocaine but suck pussy too? And all your fancy friends at the hunt ball?

Think of how they'll look at you when they are thinking of you licking some prison cows' pussy!

You're lucky I'm the sort of chap who likes dirty little cunts like you. Most men wouldn't want to even touch you if they knew you'd been a prison sex slave.”

Emma groaned with horror. It was all horribly true.

The folk in the British class-riddled system had a built in perverse delight in gossiping about their betters and enjoying pulling them off their pedestals. If the story got out, Emma knew she would quite probably feature on the front page of at least one of the national tabloid newspapers.

A photograph taken when she was at a nightclub, perhaps, with a headline like “Posh Emma was Prison Sex Slave!” above all the lurid details, written in such a way that it would suggest she probably loved her debased time in prison, never for one moment saying this was what you did unless you wanted a razor slash to mar your face…..

She stared up at him, the defeat showing in her eyes.

John's cock jerked as he saw her resignation. He had got her.

“What do you want?” she murmured.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, Sweetheart. Just as we are. Except you are also my slave in the bedroom. I've got this thing about control…maybe I'm a bit of a control freak. So if I say crawl, you crawl. And if I think you should be punished, you do as you are told and I do as I want. Simple, really. You'll probably enjoy it.”

“But you hit me, and that was rape just now….”

“Of course, you stupid bitch. That's what you're for. I like hitting a woman! And if you don't do as I told you, you're going to find out how much it can hurt very quickly!”

She looked at the jutting cockhead swaying only inches from her eyes. She could feel a squirm of horror in her stomach as she saw that his foreskin had trapped some brown shreds of her faeces in its folds and there was a distinct anal aroma from the slime along the length of the shaft.

“Go on, bitch. Suck your shit off your Master's cock like a good little whore-slave!” he growled, and his face broke into a wolfish grin of triumph as the lovely girl opened her mouth and timidly tasted her own bodily waste as he pushed his cock between her lips.

John pushed forward, the dome of his penis meeting the back of her throat. He caught her head to hold her as her gagging reaction made her try to pull back. Pushed still more, hearing her gurgle and choke, cock forced to bend as it went down her throat.

John had a cruel smile on his face. He was thinking of the little white Russian he had taken apart with Yacob a couple of weeks ago. He had been choking her on his cock, just like this, watching Yacob cut open her cunt with a serrated blade.

Be a good girl, Emma. It would be nice to hear a posh English girl's voice screaming instead of those Serbs, Croats and Russkies.

He came, squirting his seed into her, dominating her completely. She would give in to him now. He knew she was his.

For a couple of weeks, John used a mixture of encouragement and fear to bend Emma to his ways. Her downfall was that she really was a sexy little mare, and as he revealed more of his interest in perversion, Emma found her disgust tempered with her arousal.

He made her read some x-rated books, forcing her to lie with her legs wide apart as she read so that he could fondle, kiss, and play with her sex.

He knew where the really dirty bits were, and timed his sexual assault to bring her to peak enjoyment just as she read of some woman being tortured rather viciously.

He also fed her a few drugs, but not enough to get her addicted.

Next came movies, collations of the best bits from commercial productions, underground sex movies for the kinky collector, and a couple of Manga cartoons with bondage and punishment as the theme.

As he expected, Emma began to accept that he enjoyed brutal cruelty. She understood that it aroused him to have her talk about such things, she knew that the sudden flush of heat down between her thighs each time he suggested some new perverse act was because she had a pretty disgusting mind herself.

When he told her she was coming on holiday for a cruise on a ship which encouraged sexual freedom among the passengers (the real version of The Love Boat, he called it!) she was looking forward to it.

Arriving on board by private helicopter impressed Emma greatly. And the welcome was superb. Drinks with the Captainess, or whatever you called a female boss on a boat.

Very pretty. Emma wondered if she joined in any of the sexual freedom John had suggested went on.

And Emma had a feeling that the frank appraisal of her figure by Captain Govash was a bit like the looks she had known in prison. Shame the Captain left almost as soon as they had met. . . .. . .

.

Getting Aquainted.

.

I put on my shorts and a low halter top.

The contrast from a dark navy uniform to brief casuals always gives people quite a surprise. I wear fairly high heels, even in casuals, and yet I was still a little shorter than the new girl. She and John were still standing when I returned, walking around the small promenade deck rather than sitting in the loungers. I came up behind them, feeling quite a little rush of desire as I studied Emma's behind and long muscular legs. Perhaps it was her upper class accent or her big breasts, I'm not sure, but I fancied her a lot. I knew that she had been forced into lesbian activity in prison. If John wanted to see how she went with a woman, I really wanted to be the woman she went with.

“Oh, gosh. That was quick. Oh, I love those shorts. Are they Gucchi?” Emma simpered.

“Lacroix” I smiled. “Don't you want to come and sit?”

“Rather like looking around, actually” Emma smiled. “Is this all the deck? Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but it's not quite what I was expecting.”

“Promenades and health spa, perfume shop and la crosse courts?” I smiled.

“Well, yes, I suppose so. I mean John did say it was a sort of cruise ship but it looks more like a tanker!”

John stared at me. He had a rather stern face, intense eyes. “Please don't be offended by this silly girl, Captain,” he said. “She is not very aware of the purpose of the S.S.Desadee.”

“I see….well, I will really look forward to explaining it to her” I smiled, “and please call me Samantha, or Sam. No-one stands on formality here. I'm only ‘Captain' in port. First name terms are so much easier.”

“Sorry….didn't mean to be rude!” Emma said, actually blushing slightly.

Oh, I loved her. Those dark eyes and those big rounded breasts.

“You don't think, do you?” John snapped. “I think that was a very hurtful thing to say. Tell Sam you really are sorry.”

The girl looked worried. She knew that tone of voice. She began to fluff, telling me my ship was very nice, not at all like a cargo ship after all.

“On your knees and beg forgiveness, silly bitch!” John rasped.

Her eyes flew open with shock.

“I…er…what?”

“On your fuckin' knees, cunt, and beg Sam to forgive you or I'll take your knickers down and spank your arce right here!”

You could see the emotions in her eyes, shame, shock, surprise, and then dawning realisation. She looked at me, and saw my rather obvious evil smile of anticipation, then to Karl, who rather crudely pulled the fly of his uniform trousers open.

With her face glowing a rosy pink, she knelt down in front of me. “I'm sorry, Miss Govash. I did not mean to insult you or your lovely boat. Please forgive me.”

I pushed my shorts down. “Show me you mean it, Emma. Usually an apology is sealed with a kiss. So. . . kiss my cunt.”

I spread my legs.

She turned her head and looked up at John, her expression pleading for mercy. He shook his head. “Do as you're told!”

Her face tilted up, her eyes glued on the slightly open spread of my labia. I pushed my belly forward slightly, conscious of John's admiring stare. He had not seen this part of me before. He obviously approved.

Her tongue flicked nervously over her full red lips. She inhaled. The little bitch was drinking in the aroma of roused cuntflesh. I know that look and the way her nostrils quivered. She may have said she was horrified and disgusted by what she had learned in prison, but I think she loved the taste of pussy.

Her tongue slipped between the full puffs of my lower lips, moved slowly upwards, circled my clitoris. God, I was starting to juice up already. She knew just how to let the pressure vary in just the right places. Women know what I mean. Men tend to mash in and think enthusiastic suction is arousing. I think only Karl sucks me as well as a woman, and that is only due to years of practice and a total frankness between us on sexual matters.

How many of you gentlemen have said “Oh, Darling, that was wonderful” when you would really have preferred to say :-“If you'd sucked harder/softer/pushed your finger up my bum/let me pee on you/ etc. etc. it would have been really great!”….. but you were too afraid of being thought a disgusting pervert to say it ?

So silly, as lots of times the partner on either side really does not know every devious delight that would give so much pleasure during lovemaking….

Anyway, Emma was so careful not to press in too hard, just reaming my g-spot with the tip of her tongue, keeping just far enough back from my automatically thrusting belly to tease me into still higher levels of desire.

Karl whispered something to John, and both of them began to pull their cocks out.

“Is she apologising well enough, Miss Govash…oh, sorry…Samantha?” John asked, displaying an almost fully erect penis, medium in length but very thick. “Or should she be taken below to say she is sorry in our cabin?”

“Well…..I am beginning to see that she is trying hard to be nice to me” I smiled, “but perhaps if she undressed a little, I would be able to see that she really means what she says! Perhaps it may be more comfortable down below!”

Below decks, the Desadee has been designed to withstand cursory investigation by having a deck of well equipped cabins surrounding a central hold in which we do carry high price cargo. All the external cabin windows, though large and offering excellent vistas of the ocean, are made in a dark looking glass that preserves privacy. The cabins are quite luxurious and all fully serviced with en suites and small dressing rooms. The latter double as holding cells should a guest wish to have his unwilling playmate nearby during the night….

The next lower deck has high security steel reinforced shutter corridors, lined with cells of various sizes and differing purposes. Screams can not be heard from this area.

Lower still are sleeping quarters for both crew and transit captives or held women we may be transporting for clients, and still further into Desadee's depths lie the duplicated engines, fuel reserves, water, electrical, refrigeration, and storage sections plus the meat grinder disposal points.

We have a conduct code for security. In remote ocean regions where our sophisticated radar can assure us we will not be seen or heard, captives may be made to suffer above the lower deck, though we rarely have open air entertainment except when under canvas awnings as spy in the sky systems are now getting damnably good.

Near ports and in shipping lanes, guests are required to stay below, and sadism may only be practised beyond the security shutters. All guests arrive and depart by helicopter. Victims are more likely to be hoisted on board securely doped and restrained in special containers that have air recycling and internal water purifying systems so that no external check will reveal breathing, etc.

We have had to take some quite extreme security measures since international terrorism and illegal immigration has become rife. Fortunately, most of our supply zones are in regions with somewhat suspect security forces…..Bribery can achieve wonders.

I apologize for the tour, but it serves to give you some idea of the complexity behind the POP organization, and helps explain why our fees are so high.

As usual, I had just given John Raynsford a similar explanation of our routines, seeing his still kneeling and deliciously pussy-sucking girlfriend look somewhat horrified when the word “torture” happened to be used, and then suggested we go down to their cabin.

Emma watched me pull my shorts up with some reluctance on both our parts. Her tongue licked her lips as if to gain every last trace of my sex taste.
Once in the cabin, John told his girlfriend to strip. Karl and I were present, and she started to get a bit flustered, actually saying “But, John Darling, we aren't on our own yet…” at which he turned on her like a tiger and gave her a quite violent slap across the face.

“Get it straight, Emma. On this ship you do as you're fucking-well told or you get more bloody trouble than you ever thought was possible. Now get naked and get your mouth on Sam's cunt double quick unless you want to be strapped on this bed and whipped!”

Karl shed his pants.

I squirmed with that delicious tingle I get when I see the dawning of fear in a girls eyes. John began to strip as well. So why should I be bashful?

Four of us, all stark naked. Two men with hard cocks, grinning nastily at the high class bitch on her hands and knees giving me a very intimate tongue bath.

Then John got behind her, and her face was pushed into my belly most delightfully as he shoved his cock into her arcehole. Karl had to wait, gently masturbating as he watched Emma get a really hard and fast bum fuck while I grabbed her lovely long hair and ground myself against her mouth until my juices syruped her face in a delicious wet climactic orgasm.

As soon as I stepped away, Karl got in front of her and pulled her breasts forward, wrapping them around the thickness of his cock, and rocking her back and forth painfully so she breast fucked him while John arce fucked her….. but he pulled out from her breasts in time to invade her mouth before ejaculating.

“Drink it down, Sweetie!” I called. “Lose any of that nice tasty cream and you will make up for your carelessness in pain!”

Naturally, as soon as he saw Karl move away, now limp and sucked clean, John pulled out of his girl-friends bottom and moved to get his cock inside her mouth.

I noticed she did not dare to pull away, even though one could see ample evidence that he had been inside her rectum.

Karl, standing beside me, fondled my breasts lovingly. “I think she's going to give us all a lot of fun, Sam. I wonder how far he wants to take her?”

John overheard, despite Karl speaking softly.

“Don't worry, my friend. She's going to find out what Hell is like before the end of this trip. You like pissing down a bitches throat?” he smiled grimly. “Be my guest!”

And he slapped poor Emma across the face, sending her sprawling onto the cabin floor. “In the heads, Cunt. Don't want any piss on the carpet!”

Emma gave a squeal of anger. “I'm not doing that for anyone, John!” she rasped. “You've gone too far. That's something I wouldn't even let you do!”

John caught a handful of her long auburn hair and wrenched her to her feet, dragging her through the narrow doorway to the en suite shower and toilet facilities. She cried out with pain and anger, making the mistake of trying to hit him in her fury.

I was quite amazed how brutally John hit her.

He smashed a clenched fist with full force low in her stomach, making her double over in agony, retching as she tried to draw breath. She dropped to her knees, tears welling from her eyes, looking up at him with reproach and fear, just in time to see his fist aimed at her mouth. She gurgled, her lower lip split and bleeding, and sank onto the tiled floor unconscious.

“Cunt!” John growled. “Showing me up in front of you. I'll make sure she does as she's told next time!”

And he kicked her prone body savagely.

Oddly, I felt quite sorry for poor Emma. It was not a terribly bright start to her holiday cruise.

Karl and I left, quite reluctantly. But one has to afford clients certain privacy, and I had the feeling John wanted to be alone with his unfortunate girlfriend for a while.

They appeared together in the evening for dinner. True to cruise ship tradition, we tend to dress up a little for our evening meal. This does not forbid quite outrageous displays of nudity or fetish clothing, as one has to cater for the most odd of desires all the time, but we do tend to play the formal role for a first night on board, at least, and our staff all attend us in smart uniforms with only minor alterations from the norm. Female skirts are perhaps excessively short and male pants all have quick release velcroed pouches in the genital area. But, if nothing sexual is taking place, they could pass for regular crew without much trouble.

I was in a long evening dress made of sheer opalescent silver silk from Taiwan, revealing my figure in detail but actually covering my body quite modestly. I wore no underclothes apart from a suspender belt to hold up my dark silk stockings. My shoes were quite sweet, pearl silver with five inch heels that I love, even though they make walking a bit precarious in anything of a swell.

Karl had a midnight blue tuxedo with a pearl grey silk shirt pleated down the front and a midnight bow tie that really made him look extremely elegant, almost Latin.

Emma was in a simple white silk dress with dark stockings and high heels. Her lip was swollen, powder and make up unable to conceal the damage. She walked slowly, wincing slightly. Her frightened eyes were at odds with the fixed smile she tried desperately to keep plastered on her face.

John was seemingly the perfect gentleman, pulling the chair out for Emma, his eyes gleaming with a secret satisfaction as she sat down gingerly, unable to hide a slight grimace of pain when her bottom met the chair cushion.

He wore a dark evening suit. It made him look quite saturnine.

Harko Sayanni was in a very dapper black silk suit, his wife, Koboyan, wearing a Westernised kimona.

Our Texan client was below decks. He was not a very sociable type, and had elected to stay in his cabin with the teenage Mexican girl who was going to be his suffering companion for the next few days of the voyage.

The meal was devoid of incident, the talk mainly about the results of the recent war in Bosnia and Serbia. Harko said it had received very little publicity in the East, but he had heard that the after effects had resulted in a lot of white slavers making serious money from “re-locating” women who had lost their menfolk as a result of the fighting. Naturally, this made us mention Jacob Linskey and John said he was hoping to spend some time with his slaver friend, probably getting a chance to kill another girl with Jacob in a few weeks time.

I saw Emma's eyes flare wide. We all heard her gasp of horror.

John looked directly at her and smiled wickedly. “Did you say something, Darling?”

Emma blushed. “I….er….I'm sorry, I thought you said….no….sorry!”

John shook his head sadly. “Oh, dear girl. You really must learn to grow up, you know. That's what this holiday is all about. . . . learning to live with each other, make each other happy. You will learn all about me, how I like watching a pretty girl explode when Jacob puts a grenade up her vagina after we have raped and tortured her for a day or two, how next time we'll probably get you cut her tits off for us while we are double fucking her…..”

Emma had lost every bit of colour from her face. She gave a little whimper of horror and looked at me, then at Karl. We could see her brain realizing that we had heard John say this too, and were not in the least upset or disgusted.

“Isn't that a bit dangerous?” Karl asked. “I'd have thought you would be worried about flying shrapnel.”

“No, we use a small anti-personnel grenade. It blows her belly open and makes a bloody mess, but it's safe enough unless you're still fucking her!”

We all laughed.

Emma was turning rather green.

“I've used fireworks once or twice” I smiled. “They can burn very enjoyably if they have magnesium in the mix. And magnesium wire can keep burning right through a girls breast if it's threaded through and then set alight. The bright white light shows up as pink while it burns inside her flesh.”

“Jacob likes putting a pistol up them as well. If you're careful, you can take quite a few shots up a womans cunt before you hit anything lethal,” John continued.

“The Japanese soldiers cure for V.D.” Harko laughed.

“What?”

“Oh, in the last world war. Any Japanese soldier who caught venereal disease from one of the concubines and whores laid on at the army camps was expected to push his pistol up the infected passage and blow the poor womans head off!”

“Good incentive for the ladies to take care of their personal hygiene!” John laughed.

Emma was sitting totally still, afraid to move, breathing in shallow little gasps. I had thought she might have been sick, but she seemed to be holding herself in control. Her face was very pale, making her brown eyes look even larger and darker than usual, a human Manga drawing.

The after dinner coffee was served.

Harko stood and gave a polite bow to the rest of us. “Please excuse my wife and I” he smiled. “We would like to spend the rest of the evening getting to know the young Brazilian lady you have so kindly provided in our cabin. I do hope you will not be offended by our absence.”

Koboyan stood and bowed to each of us in turn, then followed her diminutive husband from our presence like a well-trained servant.

John shrugged his shoulders. “Seems there is not going to be much socializing on this trip, then? Still, I suppose what they're going to do in their cabin is what they came for, really.”

I smiled at him. “You haven't chosen your companion yet. Would you like to view what we have down below?”

“I get a choice? Wonderful. I thought it would be all pre packaged, you know….in with the ticket price!”

“It sometimes is, especially for repeat clients, when we get to know their preferences, but as you are a new member of our society we thought you could choose from our cargo. There are five available.”

Emma was following the conversation without really understanding what was going on. She still looked shell-shocked and very scared.

“Come on, Darling” John smiled, taking her arm and helping her stand. By the way she moved, I could guess he had tanned her backside. “We're going to pick our new playmate. It will be nice to have a fresh cunt for you to suck.”

Karl came with us, the four of us taking the lift down to the lower secure cargo deck.

It was a narrow corridor, mesh covered strip lights every few yards, metal honeycomb sheet floor, no pretty carpets or touches of luxury down here.

I unlocked one of the doors and stood aside to let John usher his silent and trembling girl friend inside first.

I always love those little gasps of horror and surprise people give when they see something totally unexpected and rather disgusting.

Emma was staring at a tall golden bodied Mexican senorita manacled against the far wall of the cell, her body spread out in a loose “X” by fine silver chains securing wrist and ankle cuffs to rings welded in the steel wall. She was naked.

She had obviously been unable to control her needs, the cabin smelling like a toilet and a little brown pile on the floor between her legs, sitting in a wet patch of urine.

John looked the girl up and down. She was a fine specimen, but I could tell the chemistry was not there.

“She's…. erm…she's very nice!” John said. “Great tits.”

The girl began to plead in Spanish, many por favors and madre de dios as she begged to be helped or released. Of course, sometimes I like to keep a fresh bit of stock in total ignorance of her situation, and this poor girl was one of those. My staff would not speak to her, just leave food and unfasten her wrists while she ate. In the evening she would be secured to a small cot bed. She was not allowed to wash, use the head, put on any clothes, and so on. Treated in total silence, scared out of her wits, and not knowing anything about her true predicament.

In the next cabin were two girls, casually dressed in jeans and tee shirts, but gagged.

Their wrists were secured behind their backs but otherwise they could move around their quite normal two berth cabin unhindered.

They had been told they were on their way to a slave auction in the middle east.

“On your feet ladies!” I snapped, and both the girls reluctantly got off the couch they had been sitting on, watching a colour T.V.

“It's a pre-view to see if this gentleman fancies either of you for his stable!”

The ring gags allowed enough noise for us to recognise “fuck off” even though the rings were secured between their lips.

I saw a flash of interest in John's eyes and smiled inwardly. He was certainly a control freak. This minor spark of belligerence had piqued his interest, made him want to teach the young ladies to obey….

“American ladies” I explained, “Working in Cambodia for the World Trade organization until they unfortunately had a drink in a bar run by some friends of mine who collect stock for the slave markets….which is where these two are headed.”

“I'll take that one!” John said, pointing at the taller of the two girls.

Karl produced a nasty looking black automatic pistol from his pocket. Any protests the girls may have been about to make suddenly ceased. He motioned for the girl to leave the cabin, and we followed.

“Have you any preference as to the type of room you want to use to get to know the young lady?” I asked.

John looked puzzled.

“You know, all modern chrome and electric toys, ancient Spanish Inquisition, comfortable passion wagon….what?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Well, the Spanish Inquisition sounds like fun. There are beds and so on?”

“Of course. Comfort if you want it, or just the opposite, too!”

Up one deck. Corridor now plush carpet, but the cabin doors solid steel and sound proofed. Room seven. Again let the punters go in first.

“Oh my God!” from Emma and “Oh, this is great!” from John.

“Would you like us to leave you to get things organised?” I smiled, hoping he'd say “No” so we could stay and play dirty games too. Unfortunately, he nodded, eyes devouring the toys on view in the large windowless cabin that had been designed to replicate a stone dungeon complete with a rack, wheel, rows of whips and flails, and other old fashioned love toys.

“John, I don't want to stay in here please” from Emma, who was staring at the pincers, clamps, presses and branding irons around the cell with a sort of sick understanding on her face.

“Oh, Sweetheart, this is just the first night of our cruise. You'll enjoy all the new experiences. Don't be silly, Darling. I'm sure you'll want to get to know our new friend here, won't you? It's all going to be ever so exciting. Be a good girl and take your clothes off straight away. Thanks, Miss Govash. I'll call on the com-phone if I need any help. Believe me, you seem to have provided everything a man could ask for!”

Karl and I left, carefully shutting the heavy steel door. He slapped my bottom. “Come on, then. Up to your room and put the cameras on!”

.

……………………

Being Voyeurs.

.

By the time we were undressed and had switched on the two cabin cameras for the protection recording, John had stripped his new possession down to her underclothes.

She was shackled to the wall, wrists above her head, ankles apart. Her jeans and tee shirt were crumpled on the floor, cut from her body.

Dressed only in her very sexy lace underthings, Emma was kneeling on the floor, and John had put a clamp bar over the back of her calves to prevent her escaping from her subservient position. He had not tied her arms, obviously confident that she dare not strike him.

He was just shrugging his pants down to reveal his nakedness.

I was surprised to see that his penis was flaccid. I had expected him to be engorged and ready to go, with the thrill of securing and stripping the American woman.

We turned the sound up so it was almost like being in the cabin with them, our multiple screens showing the usual radar, navigation, security scan, and so on, then the two slightly larger flat plasma screens side by side in the middle of the display wall showing the two views of the selected cabin.

“Right, Emma. Time to introduce you to our new friend,” John smiled with a nasty gleam in his eyes. “Tell her what you are!”

“I…..John, please. I don't like this game. I think we should stop before things go too far, Darling!”

John shook his head sadly. “Oh, Sweetheart. I thought that caning I gave your backside before dinner had taught you a lesson. Do I have to do it again?”

Emma shook her head. “No…..no, please. That hurt me awfully. Please don't hurt me again. You're supposed to love me, not hurt me!”

The evil man shook his head again, as if saddened by the recalcitrance of a favourite pupil. He turned his back on Emma and went over to his captive American.

He put a hand on each of her bra-covered breasts and squeezed her hard enough to hurt. Despite the ring gag, she made some pretty expressive noises of furious anger.

“Oh be quiet, woman. I'm just checking to see if you have any jelly bags in these rather splendid tits. They feel pretty firm to me. Shall we let my silly little girl-friend see what your nipples look like? She's a bit of a lezzie, you see. Oh, you call them Dykes in America, don't you? Whatever. She gets all wet and sexy looking at pretty girls with no clothes on.”

“John…..don't, please. Stop it. I don't want to be part of this game, whatever it is. And I don't, I mean,…… I'm not a lesbian!”

“Be quiet, Emma. You are going to enjoy this.”

John slid his fingers under the base of the captives bra. cups and popped them upwards so her breasts were revealed and her brassiere hung loosely over her chest. She squirmed helplessly in her bondage.

He bent his head and began to lick her nipples, grabbing hold of her to stop her shaking from side to side in an effort to frustrate his efforts to suck her tits.

Then one hand dropped and slipped down the front of her plain white panties. She squealed through the ring gag, struggling even harder as his fingers found the cleft of her vagina and stroked her intimately.

“What colour is your bush, Yankee babe?” he chuckled. “Shall we take a look? Shouldn't be any secrets between us should there, seeing as how we're going to all fuck together and play lots of lovely dirty games.”

He picked up the knife with which he had slit away her jeans. It had no difficulty slicing open the sides of her panties which immediately fluttered to the floor and revealed a quite thick pubic bush in a dark auburn brown, very curly, and obviously not trimmed in any way.

“Nice!” he smirked, rubbing his forefinger along her exposed crease where the thicker lips jutted out slightly from the shadowy fold of her labia.

“Ever had it sucked by another woman?” he asked.

The captive just continued to make her rather muffled curses and threats, totally garbled by the ring gag.

Shockingly, John's fist smashed into the American woman's belly.

Her outstretched “X” position meant she could not double up as all the wind was expelled from her chest, and she made a gurgling gasping sound as her eyes bulged from their sockets in amazement.

Emma gasped, too, her lovely eyes screwed up in horror as she saw her supposedly caring boy-friend brutally punch this helpless stranger again, making the poor woman retch with agony.

I noticed how his cock was beginning to grow. Our new client was a true sadist. Hurting a woman definitely turned him on.

“I asked a question, you cunt-faced slut!” he shouted at the gasping woman. “Nod your fucking head for Yes or shake it for No…..not fuckin' difficult, is it?”

The poor woman was terrified. She glared at him, still trying to get her breath back from the two belly blows. Unfortunately, she seemed not to understand that this was another question.

John brought his knee up between her outspread legs, thudding hard straight into the meat of her loins.

“Answer, cunt! Is it fuckin' difficult?”

She was shaking her head now, desperate to stop him hitting her again.

John smiled that mirthless smile at her again, patted her cheeks gently, even wiped away a couple of tears that trickled down her cheeks.

“There……now you are beginning to get the idea. You do what you are told and things could be quite enjoyable. But my problem is that I get a sort of charge out of hurting a woman, see, so unless you do exactly what I tell you, well….I just sort of lash out and watch you suffer! There…..where was I ? Oh, yes. Introductions. I suppose we'd better find out a little bit about you if we're going to get into bed together! I'm going to take the gag off, and you will want to start asking questions and telling me what a monster I am and all that sort of thing, but I want you to shut your fuckin' mouth and only speak when I ask a question!

Now, you just get one chance. On the wall over there I can see a knotted leather whip…..I think they call it a “tawse”, or something. I've never used one of those on a woman, but I bet it can rip tits open like a knife through butter. You make a sound, and we'll all find out if I'm right!”

John unbuckled the cheek strap and pulled the ring gag out of the American's mouth. She shook her head, making her rather attractive mane of shoulder length auburn hair fan out like a shampoo advert. She was still breathing raggedly, but had learned her lesson. She just glared at the Englishman with eyes that spoke volumes.

“Good girl. Now, what's your name?”

“Christine Lennox.”

“Good. How old are you, Christine?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Married or single?”

“Single.”

“Have you got a regular boy-friend?”

She nodded, her eyes misting up as she almost started to cry.

He learned that her boy-friend had not gone to Cambodia with her, and she had not seen him for seven months.

“You fuck around in Cambodia, then?”

She shook her head angrily.

“And our Captain said you were drinking with that other girl in a bar when they acquired you. You find a bit of girl on girl fun to keep your pussy satisfied, then?”

“I did not!”

“O.K. …..don't get you knickers in a twist. You'll be sucking my girl-friend's cunt shortly, and I know she'll love tasting your little love canal!”

“I will do no such thing!” the poor girl snapped, naturally upset by the casual way John informed her she was going to do a bit of muff diving.

John shook his head sadly. “Where do you come from in America?”

“Dakota.”

“You went to school there?”

“Until I went on to college, yes”.

“Well, the education system in Dakota leaves a lot to be desired. One thing they should have taught you was obedience, and another important thing is not to make a man angry with you if he's got you spread-eagled on the wall with your wrists and ankles chained up.

Now I know they don't sort of include that exact scenario in most school lessons, but they should have taught you common sense…..and telling me you are not going to do what I fuckin' tell you to fuckin'-well do is not fuckin' sensible, bitch!”

He took the knotted tawse from the row of assorted implements of flagellation on the cabin wall, swung it a few times to gauge the weight.

“John, don't! John, for Christ's sake, this isn't funny….stop it. You mustn't…..Oh My God!!!!”

The scream vibrated round the cabin. Emma's mouth had dropped open. She was staring in absolute horror at the shrieking American girl. Ignoring his girl-friend's pleas, John had slashed the whip hard over Christine's chest, and one of the knots in the braided leather had caught the left nipple and split the aureole open on the lower edge. Blood poured down her crazily bouncing breast as she writhed in her chains like a demented soul, screaming repeatedly.

He hit her twice more, then tossed the whip aside. His cock was tumescent, arching upwards, foreskin peeling back from the purple glans.

I was expecting him to simply approach his victim and shaft her, but Mr.Raynsford was a better sadist than that. He obviously enjoyed the fear and horror a bit of anticipation can create.

Instead, he walked to Emma and stood in front of her. He nodded downwards at his engorged cock. “Come on, slut. Wet your Master!”

It was fascinating seeing the struggle in her mind. She wanted to protest, but he had been teaching her that her position was a slave to his manhood, and there it was, bobbing in front of her face, demanding service. She opened her mouth and bobbed her head forward, taking her Master's tool between her lips and fellating him slowly.

Christine was sobbing, getting her heart rate under control.

“Jesus, my breasts are bleeding. For Chrissakes help me. Look, come on….you can't do this, man. For God's sake, help me. My breasts are….”

“Shut up, Yankee slut!” John shouted. “One more word and you get ten strokes right on your tits.”

Christine shut up. She watched the naked man having his cock sucked by the kneeling and obviously frightened young girl. A slow feeling of dread began to creep over the helpless woman. She was beginning to realize that this was not some sort of mistake, a silly play that she had accidentally been drawn into. She looked around more carefully, and her heart sank.

When she had first entered the cabin at gunpoint, she had seen the rack and all the other “dungeon” paraphernalia, but although it was frightening, she had somehow thought it was all part of a hoax, like a film set. I mean, one simply does not have a fully functioning olde worlde dungeon on board a ship.

Then the kneeling girl being held down with that calf press, and her own out-spread bondage……frightening, but still some sort of kinky sex scene, maybe a blue movie video or something.

But he had hurt her, and he enjoyed it. And the pain in her breast was real, the whip had cut her flesh, the blood trickling over her belly and matting her chestnut curls down there was real.

Those steel pincers hanging on the wall were not cheap fekes. The serrated jaws were genuinely capable of crushing human tissue. The branding irons hanging by a small gas heated furnace had been used. You could see the way the steel had blued with intense heat.

John pulled away from his kneeling sex slave.

“I'm just going to find out how tight this American pussy is, then you can show me what a good girl you are and lick her clean, alright?”

Christine stared at his glistening penis as he came towards her. She knew there was no way she could resist. He was going to rape her.

John looked her in the eye and he knew that she understood. He could read the loss of hope, see the sick certainty of pain and horror in her eyes. She had understood at last. She knew he was going to despoil and hurt her body.

Of course, she did not know just how much pain she would endure. No woman could possibly imagine that.

“Ask me to fuck you, Christine!”

There was a long pause.

John was holding his erection, gently peeling the foreskin back and forth, standing almost touching the quivering woman.

“Say you want me to fuck you deep and hard, Christine….or I will cut your damaged nipple off completely. Your choice!”

“Alright…do it!”

“No…..last chance!”

“O.K. Fuck me please. Deep and hard.”

“There's a good girl. See Emma? These American girls may be a bit slow in the beginning, but they can learn fast.”

And he lodged his prick into the blood stained slot, held her hips, and forced his way inside her.

His hands jerked her to meet his thrusting belly, and Christine gave a yelp of pain as she was entered to the limit in one violent stroke.

I reached over and started to stroke Karls' limp cock. I was expecting John to rut in the girl to a violent climax, but I was wrong.

He withdrew and lunged again just three or four times, then pulled out of her, still fully erect and nicely smeared with her blood. He walked over to his kneeling girl-friend. “Suck, bitch !”

Emma was in a state of shock. She wanted to protest, but there was something dreadfully dangerous about her masterful boy-friend at the moment and she was afraid he may hurt her if she did not obey him promptly.

She opened her mouth, ashamed of herself because she got a tingle of desire as she tasted Christine's juices smeared on the hard shaft of Johns' cock.

John let her slide her lips as far as she could down his shaft before pulling away from her mouth. He bent over and disconnected the bar holding her calves to the floor.

“Good girl. Get up now. You can help me turn our American guest around for a bit of good old fashioned buggery !”

Christine groaned. She was an anal virgin. She wondered if she may be able to escape if he had to unchain her.

But the way John secured each wrist and ankle there was not a moment when the poor girl was free enough to even think of making a run for the cabin door.

She found herself turned to face the wall, again outspread in the classic “X” position, but with a bar at just below waist height between her belly and the cabin wall, a bar which John and Emma slowly wound out from the wall using two ratchet devices, forcing the bar into Christines' body and making her bend in the middle, arce pushing out to try and relieve the pressure of the bar.

The “X” became a rack as the bar made her ankles and wrists tauten the short chains securing her.

She began to cry, and plead for release.

“I told you not to talk unless I told you to, Christine. Do you want me to cut your nipple off after all?”

“No…please, I'm sorry….I….the strain….It's dislocating my shoulders!”

“Let me see how tight you are, then.” John smiled, and he suddenly slapped the girl's buttocks with an almighty open handed slap that sounded like a gun-shot.

She yelped with pain and writhed sinuously against her securing chains.

“No…..plenty of slack, Sweetie. When we hear them creak, that's when you'd be really tight !”

He positioned himself behind her, easing the cheeks of her bottom apart slightly. “Get down and guide me in, Slave” he said to Emma, “ and lick her all the time I'm fucking her. If you make her come, I'll give you a diamond necklace!”

Miss Emma Burnleigh-Smith got to her knees between the spread legs of the innocent American. She looked upwards and saw the thatch of chestnut cunt hair, the slightly parted labia, the crease back between the rounded arce cheeks and her boy-friends' rampant cockhead rubbing against the rounded white arce cheeks, leaving little snail trails of pre-come.

She groaned, reached between Christines' thighs and held her lovers' shaft, centring the dome in line with the puckered and firmly shut anal ring.

Though she felt frightened by the violence and dreadfully sorry for the poor American woman, Emma was also very conscious of the throbbing desire that was making her petals swell with unladylike lust. The scent of that four-lipped gash above her face was setting off sensory explosions in her belly. Her mouth was full of saliva.

John began the anal rape. He could not get in.

“Lick her arcehole, slave. Stick your finger up her bum, open her up for me, now !”

Emma obeyed, surprised how difficult it was to work her index finger into that rosy crinkled bud. She rubbed a lot of saliva in the crease, then it was easier and she could work her finger up to the second knuckle. She jerked and rotated the finger, pulling the virgin arcehole open, then she spat more juice onto John's penis and once more held him against the helpless woman.

John shoved hard, delighted to feel his knob suddenly pop through the ring of muscle.

“Now, you fuckin' Yankee cum slut!” he growled, and his savage thrusts broke deep into virgin territory. He rutted in her, loving her cries of pain, feeling her taut body shudder with horror and agony as her anus flowered reluctantly open to admit his hard cock.

His arms enclosed her, hands crushing her breasts, fingers gripping and twisting her nipples, making her scream even louder.

Between her thighs, Emma had tilted her face back to press her lips to the damp cleft of cunt meat and had driven her tongue between the lips, the tip of her tongue lashing the deeply hidden nub of Christines' clitoris. With a feeling of shame, the lovely dark-haired twenty three year old tasted the younger girl with a feeling of wild excitement.

Against her forehead, the cock of her boyfriend drove back and forth, smelling of shit and streaked with brown. It was disgusting and Emma knew she ought to be ashamed of herself, but her right hand slid down between her own legs, middle finger curled up, slowly raised, then delicious wet contact as she began to masturbate in time with her deep thrusting tongueing of the whimpering suffering American girl above her.

“Looks like that girl is more of a pervert than she pretends to be ” I said to Karl. “All that being shocked and horrified, but as soon as she gets the chance to lick some poor bitch, she starts frigging her clit like a real sexy dyke!”

“I like her” Karl smiled. “Fucking her tits was delicious. Can't wait to have a turn up her pussy. She's got such nice big cushions to bounce on!”

I smacked his groin hard enough to make him protest. “Don't you dare compare her tits with mine!” I growled. “I might not be as big, but I'm better in bed!”

“No, you're just a depraved old sea whore!” Karl laughed as he rolled on top of me.

We lost interest in the T.V. monitors for a while, only bothering to look a bit later when we were lying reversed, heads to pubes, mutual cleansing and draining the last little spasms of pleasure from our love-making.

Christine was on her back but with her legs pulled up and apart, tied back to her outstretched wrists. This caused her buttocks to be hauled up and spread, exhibiting her most private area with startling clarity. Virtually between her legs, her face was somewhat hidden by a big funnel strapped to her head and jammed uncomfortably far into her throat.

John was making Emma drink glass after glass of water, knocking back a pint or two himself. Emma was saying she couldn't manage any more. She wanted a pee.

“Then get up on the bed and straddle the funnel, Sweetheart. I want to see you piss in her mouth.”

Personally the water sport games leave me cold. I quite like watching a man urinate on a victim, particularly if he's one of those men that seem to be like a fire hydrant, but I don't like the taste much myself and the shitty games are even less pleasant…..but we cater for perverts, and I have seen men absolutely rock hard with excitement as they got a big fat girl to shit on their face, so nothing really surprises me.

The golden stream came from Emma, and Christine had to swallow it all or choke. John went next, and so on. I turned the monitors off. I was vaguely disappointed with John's performance. I had expected a bit of savagery, some nice brutal torture games. But I should have realised he was a control freak, and would want to take his time.

I decided to give it an hour or so. It was time for me to go and check the charts and make sure there were no urgent messages in the radio room, anyway. Though I have total confidence in my crew, it does no harm to let them see that I am aware of all that goes on.

When I switched on the monitors, Christine was screaming.

She hung from about a dozen small hooks that were threaded into her flesh, shoulders, waist, rump and backs of her thighs.

Face down, dangling from fine nylon ropes, with her arms bound behind her back, she was suspended above a workbench on which John had laid out a number of interesting tools.

He was instructing Emma in the art of nipple piercing.

To my surprise, the English well educated and rather classy girl was acting more like a slut than a public school girl. Seemed John had ordered her to act like a whore, and she was obeying without a lot of hesitation.

I could see there was a bum plug and a pussy plug inserted in Christines orifices. Her belly looked a little over round, and I guessed she had been forced to drink an alarming volume of girl pee, no doubt the plugs being put in to stop her having the luxury of emptying her bladder.

Emma had Christines' left nipple in a pair of serrated pliers and was pulling it so hard that it swung the poor defenceless American forward, whilst John was fitting a drill into a small electric tool.

“Now run this through her bud, just behind the aureole, Darling. It will be a bit messy, the drill splatters her blood around a bit, but you do it like the cruel whore I want you to be, and I'll reward you by not doing the same to your pretty tit buds!”

I was amazed. I don't know what he had said to the English rose while I was not watching, but she took hold of the drill with her right hand whilst still maintaining a stretchin g pull with her left, and switched the drill on, touched it to the breast flesh of the hanging Yank, and actually shuddered as the drill bit screwed instantly into Christine's flesh, almost pulling itself through and out the other side.

I couldn't be sure whether the shudder was of pleasure or horror, but Emma seemed quite controlled as she let the drill speed run down before pulling it from the hole ground through the flesh.

I had a little spasm of pleasure as she turned and I could see the splatter pattern of blood all across her big breasts, too.

“Now we cauterize the wound, Emma. She won't like this much, but it will stop her from bleeding too much. When I tell you, slide this thin rod through the hole you've made. Get ready for her to move a bit. Red hot steel in pretty little nipples hurts a lot.”

And I watched, fascinated, as John played the flame of a small gas blow lamp over a thin bar Emma held in insulated pliers.

When the bar was glowing, he nodded, and I watched Emma take a deep breath, then lift the glowing metal up and thrust it straight through the drill hole.

Christine bucked in such outrageous agony that most of her hanging hooks tore free, and she dropped head first towards the deck, only the hooks in her arce cheeks and legs keeping her raised at all.

Probably because it was not how he planned it, this seemed to infuriate John and he snatched up a heavy leather beater, rather like a pliant baseball bat in shape, with which he pounded the back of the shrieking American girl until the other hooks tore out and she slammed face down on the deck. At least this gave her a rest from her pain. She was totally unconscious.

“Suck her….pull the fucking plug out and suck her!” he shouted, and his dominated girl friend obeyed with haste, turning the unconscious girl onto her back, jerking out the pussy plug, and getting her head down between the still thighs to mouth the senseless girl's pussy greedily.

Getting behind Emma, John pushed his cock into her from behind, using his favoured back door approach.

Slowly recovering, the dazed American girl found herself peeing into the mouth of her English tormentor who in turn was being soundly fucked up the back passage.

An altogether charming little ménage a trios.

After he came, John wanted a rest. He hitched his captive up on a ladder rack, stretched her just enough to make her arms and legs strain in absolute agony, made Emma give the burned and pierced nipple a good sucking, then exited the cabin.

I flicked the set on that was wired to our Japanese client's cabin and was somewhat surprised to see the body of the big busted South American girl draped over a wheel rack. Her left leg had gone, but the rest of her body did not look too bad. There was no sign of Harko or his lady wife.

Despite seeing the image on a small T.V. monitor, I could see the busty bird was dead. One gets used to seeing the difference between unconsciousness and death.

I went down to the lounge and Harko and Kobeyen were both there.

He bowed and in a most courteous way apologised for the death of his purchase occurring prematurely. He had been removing her leg after carefully breaking avery bone in the limb from the toes upwards when she had simply convulsed and passed away. Our resident doctor said it was a heart attack and could not have been expected.

I offered him another victim, which both surprised and delighted him, then suggested we dispose of the corpse along with what was left of the nigger girl he had crushed earlier.

As I expected, he was quite interested in seeing the women tossed into the grinders and minced into a sort of chopped sushi broth.

From the stern, we watched as the bloody broth was squirted from a big bore pipe.

Minced pussy for the fishes.

In only about three minutes, we saw a whole host of sharks and smaller predators swimming eagerly through the soup of minced girl flesh.

It is one of the best things about having our business on board an ocean going vessel. Nobody is ever going to find evidence of bodies with which to cause us inconvenience……

Well, I'll go and sort out another girl for Harko, then write up my log.

END of THIS SECTION.

Keep looking. Susan will let you have more details of the cruise of the Desadee in a while.