BDSM Library - The Collectors Estate

Part Two - The Yacht

44 ° 10' N lat. X 125 ° 50' W long.

Approximately 65km off the coast from Newport, Oregon

The pleasure craft "My Money"

3:15PM

As some three hundred or so women were being transported away from a Houston convention center in unmarked black semi trucks, approximately 2000km away a large boat floated off the coast of the northwestern United States. The boat was a yacht; a pleasure craft named 'My Money.' On board the boat, a well-respected socialite was hosting an informal party for one hundred fifty of his guests. The party was already in full-swing and had been for nearly two days. The guests on board the on hundred twenty foot long boat had consumed nearly twenty pounds of fine caviar, over six hundred oysters, almost a thousand pounds of shrimp and over fifteen cases of the finest champagne.

No expense had been spared for this party. The host, a man by the name of Herbert Warner, was stepping down from his forty year position as CEO of Herbert Warner Industries. His two sons, Justin and Jake, both of whom were one the yacht for this special party, were now in equal control of the company. Over the last day and a half, many toasts had been made to Herbert and to Justin and Jake. There was much cajoling in the festive air. The party was a happy one.

Approaching from some miles away were five long, sleek-looking, black boats. These boats were affectionately known in nautical circles as "cigarette" boats. Each boat was a forty foot long monster with twin 400 horsepower motors, a sophisticated global positioning system and ship-to-shore radio. In short, these boats were fast, technologically advanced monsters on the water. Each boat was also manned by a crew of five men: A pilot and four masked men armed with machine guns. Except for one boat, aboard which was also a woman.

The woman was sharply dressed in an expensive, tailored black business suit that was cut to show enough leg to be provocative, but not enough to be unprofessional. She wore expensive sunglasses, behind which her eyes were focused squarely on her target. Her long, blonde hair was bound back in a simple ponytail and was, at the moment, flapping wildly about in the high wind as the boats rocketed toward the yacht on the horizon.

In moments, the cigarette boats swarmed the yacht. The twenty armed men were aboard and were systematically rounding up every guest on board; each cigarette boat pilot had stayed aboard their own boat to keep them manned and steady alongside the yacht. One guest had leaped over the side to escape and had been shot dead before he even hit the water.

Chaos reined and screaming filled the air as guests were hurriedly corralled inside the yacht's large ballroom. The staff and crew were also rounded up and were taken below decks by a few of the men. Eventually, every guest was accounted for, the yacht was brought to full anchor and one of the masked men radioed the all-clear to the boat carrying the blonde woman.

Aboard the black boat, the woman in black had tidied herself up somewhat. When the all-clear came in, she was below in the washroom in the hold brushing her hair. As soon as the all-clear was called in, she hastily pulled her hair back into the simple ponytail she'd been wearing and snapped on her sunglasses. She left the hold of the cigarette boat and crossed quickly to the aft boarding area of the yacht. Up a short ladder and across the aft deck and she was inside the yacht. She proceeded quickly to the main ballroom.

"Everyone shut up!" She snapped in a clear, sharp voice into the turmoil-filled room. The room quieted and eyes turned toward the woman to see who had spoken. One furious-looking man came forward through the crowd in the ballroom.

"Now see here..." he began. The blonde woman reached under her business jacket and withdrew an automatic pistol. She hit the man squarely in the nose with the butt of the gun. He immediately dropped to his knees and clutched his broken nose.

"No. You see here. You shut up and do as you're told." She looked around the room. "That's your only warning," she said. "Any further interruptions or protests like this person here, and you will die." She pushed the man backward with her foot, which was enclosed in a black leather boot that came to the middle of her calf. The man fell backward with little resistance, still holding his nose and whimpering slightly.

A woman bent to help the man and the blonde woman looked at her and said sharply, "Leave him." The woman backed away immediately, her eyes fixed on the blonde woman's gun.

"I want all the women against the port side wall and all the men against the starboard side wall. Move! Now!" Immediately, the blonde woman and her men began separating the men and women and forcing one sex toward the port side wall and the other to the starboard side wall. In moments, the guests were all separated and standing with their backs to the wood paneled wall. Three men kept a watch on the women while the blonde woman and about ten of her men focused their attention on the men. The rest of the mercenaries were, apparently, in other areas of the yacht.

The blonde woman quickly walked the line of men, back and forth, visually inspecting each of them. Some of the older-looking men, she pulled aside and ordered a couple of her men to take them into the hold. Several more men were pulled away from the main group and her men were ordered to lock them in cabins individually. The man whose nose the blonde woman had broken was taken away with this group and held in an individual cabin. The remaining men stood looking about nervously, unsure of what just happened or what was about to happen.

Once her men had returned from their assignments, the blonde woman then crossed the room and swiftly inspected the women in the group. As before, several of the older women were rounded up and taken to the hold. Several other women were taken to individual cabins and held.

The blonde woman returned to the front of the room and her men took up positions watching the guests remaining in the ballroom. In her clear and sharp voice, she began to speak quick commands to the people in the room.

"Strip out of your clothing now. All of you," she held up her hand as some began to open their mouths to protest. "If I hear any words of argument from any of you, I'll order these men to kill you where you stand. Now, strip out of your clothing and do not make me ask again."

Horror-stricken, many of the guests did not even move. Others tentatively began to undo buttons and unclasp dresses. The blonde woman rolled her eyes at the noncompliant individuals in the group. She slowly counted to three and watched as a few more individuals snapped out of their shocked stupor and began to undress. Still, about ten of the guests had not even moved to remove their clothing.

The blonde woman sighed, exasperated. "Shoot them," she said. One by one the mercenaries raised their guns, each targeting a person that was not complying with the orders given. One by one, there were quiet puffs and one by one the guests that had chosen to not follow the rules dropped to the floor, lifeless. The room, of course, exploded into chaos. Women shrieked and some men tried to rush from the room. It was all quite futile, of course. The men were swiftly returned to their positions and the women were silenced either by sharp words or by the barrel of a gun pointed at their heads.

"Finish!" The woman commanded the people in the room. Slowly, hesitantly, the men and women began undressing again. Soon enough, all the guests stood naked against each wall, their clothes and jewelry in piles in front of them and around them. Many of them tried in vain to cover themselves and hide their nudity from the others.

Rolling her eyes again, the blonde woman walked toward the line of nude men. As she approached the first one, she returned her pistol to its holster under her jacket and removed a red marker. Quickly and quietly, she walked from man to man inspecting and grading them. Occasionally, she would slap a man's hands away from his penis as he tried to cover it from view. As she inspected each man, she circled or marked any cosmetic enhancements, scars or tattoos. There were surprisingly few of them, given the wealth of this particular crowd. The blonde woman was fairly surprised with how natural these men were. Once her inspection was finished, she marked each man with a letter. She used S, E, A and B. She didn't mark any of the men with an X. Any man that would have been marked with an X had already been separated from the group and sent to the hold below.

Once every man had been inspected, two of the mercenaries moved down the line of men, quickly turning each man around, binding his wrists with thick plastic cords and then taping their mouths shut with silver duct tape. The men were then all led from the ballroom; there were forty-two men in all. They were led up to the deck of the yacht and then down into the cigarette boats. Twenty-one men went into each hold. They were ordered to lie down, side-by-side, and then they were locked in the dark hold. As each boat was filled, two of the mercenaries remained aboard and the boat sped off at top speed toward the Oregon coast and no one was the wiser for the content of each boat's hold.

The process was repeated with the women in the room. Each woman was inspected and graded; there were quite a few red marks made on this side of the room, though. As before, there were no women marked with the letter X; they had all been separated from the group previously and sent below decks into the hold. It seemed that, while the men didn't spend their money making themselves look younger or fitter, the women were all too happy to spend it for them in vain efforts to cheat time. By the time the blonde woman had finished marking all the enhancements, her wrist had become quite sore. Afterward, each woman was bound and gagged, and then they were all led away and into the holds of two of the remaining boats. The boats then sped off with their cargo safety stowed away below decks. As before, two gunmen remained on each boat for security. The rest remained aboard the yacht.

That left the blonde woman, twelve mercenaries and the remaining guests in the cabins. The woman and six of the remaining men moved from the ballroom to the cabins in which the remaining men were being held.

"Where did you put the informant?" The blonde woman asked one of her men.

"In the end cabin," the mercenary said, indicating a doorway at the end of the hallway.

"Fetch him first. He's supposed to take care of the remaining recruits," the blonde woman said with a wry smile. The mercenary immediately moved to the end of the corridor and opened the door. A few words were exchanged between the mercenary and the man inside, and then the mercenary moved out of the way allowing the man to step out into the corridor.

"Everything went well, it seems," the man said, approaching the blonde woman.

"Indeed," she replied. "Everything went perfectly according to plan. There were more losses than expected, but it doesn't really matter. We'll have plenty of subjects to choose from in the future."

"Agreed," the man said, taking out a cigarette case, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a gold lighter.

"Besides," the woman continued. "This 'upper-crust' crowd really isn't my type. I'd much rather have just shot them all and taken the yacht and the millions in jewels they were wearing."

"I know," the man said. "But you know we cannot keep the boat or any of the jewels here. They're all far too easy to trace if seen or sold."

"Yes," she agreed with a shrug. "Besides, with what the Collectors Estate is paying me, I can afford my own jewels."

"Right indeed," the man said with a short laugh. "Well, shall we see to the rest of our guests?"

"Yes sir. As you wish," the blonde woman said and motioned to her men to fetch the men from their cabins.

One by one, the doors were opened and the men were brought out into the corridor. One of the men, the man in the last cabin in the corridor, was the man whose nose the blonde woman had broken earlier.

"Not him," she ordered the mercenary bringing the man into the corridor. "He stays in there for now." The man was immediately ushered back into the cabin from which he was previously removed.

One of the men seemed to recognize the man with which the blonde woman had been talking. "Carlyle? Robert Carlyle?" the man being escorted by a mercenary asked. "What are you doing with these people?"

Robert Carlyle, Collectors Estate Member #21, looked at the man with a smirk and said, "What can I say, Matthew? I work for the bad guys." Robert Carlyle motioned for the mercenaries to take the man away.

"Can you take care of these men?" the blonde woman asked Carlyle. "I have some personal business to take care of."

"Surely," Carlyle said. "Enjoy yourself."

"Oh I will," she said with a nasty, angry glint in her eye. "You!" she indicated one of the mercenaries. "I'll need your help. Open this cabin." She indicated the cabin in which the man whose nose she had broken earlier was kept.

The mercenary opened the cabin as Robert Carlyle and the five mercenaries escorted the remaining men back into the ballroom. As the door was opened, the man inside, apparently with some newly-found courage, leapt toward the blonde woman in an attempt to force his way past her and make a break for it. As the man rushed at her, she swiftly cracked him in the nose once more, this time with the palm of her hand. Fresh blood ran from his nose and he crumpled to the floor, clutching at the mangled bit of flesh that once resembled his nose.

To the man holding his nose on the floor, the blonde woman said, "I think you've caused me just about enough trouble." She turned her head toward the mercenary that had entered behind her and had slid the cabin's door closed again. "Knife," she demanded. The mercenary quickly produced the sharpened and polished carbon steel knife from his side and placed the hilt of it in the blonde woman's waiting hand.

She slid the knife under the man's collar behind his neck. With a swift, sure motion, she slid the knife from his collar to his waist. The cloth of the shirt parting as the knife sliced through it like butter. She tore and cut the shirt off of him, and the repeated the process for his undershirt, pants and underwear. She tore the socks and shoes from his feet angrily. The man seemed to hardly notice. He put up no resistance and did not attempt to fight her. She discovered why once she had cut his underwear off him. The man's cock was hard. Despite the broken nose and the embarrassment, his cock had still gotten stiff while he was being undressed by this beautiful woman.

"Aw, look at that," the blonde woman said to no one in particular. "You like having your clothes torn off of you by a woman?' She stroked his cock with her boot. Inadvertently, his hips moved forward as she moved her foot rhythmically along the shaft of his cock. The man cautiously moved his hands away from his nose. His bruised eyes were partially closed in his pleasure.

"Well, let me assure you that this is the most pleasant any of my touches will ever be to you," as she said the last word, she pushed his cock to the floor with her boot, crushing it and grinding it between the leather of the sole of her boot and the polished wood of the cabin floor. The man screamed, but his scream quickly turned into a high-pitched squeal, almost as that of a little girl. He tried to double over in pain and to cover up his wounded privates, but the woman held his cock in place with her boot. The man gasped again and squealed loudly again. She stood on his cock with her left foot and raised her right foot, bringing the boot down on the man's nose. She ground the sole of her boot down on his nose exactly as she had ground the other boot down on his cock before. The man gasped again, made a small squeaking sound and then he passed out, his body going limp under her feet.

She turned to the mercenary. "Help me get him onto the bed," the blonde woman said to the mercenary. She grabbed hold of the man's legs and the mercenary took him under the armpits and together they lifted the man's limp body onto the bed. Once he was on the bed, she ordered the mercenary to duct tape the man's wrists and ankles to the bed rails. She needed a way to secure his hips and head to the bed as well, but was unsure how to accomplish that task. For what she had in mind, she needed the man held completely still. He would want to squirm and buck a lot, but that would thwart her plans for him if he did.

In the end, she wound up looping the tape around his forehead and underneath his chin and securing the tape to the headboard to hold his head. To hold his hips steady, she cut linens into strips and tied them about his upper thighs and around his waist, and then pulled the loose end tightly under the bed and around the opposite side, finally tying the free ends securely to the wrapping used to secure the man. It was more work than she wanted to put into the effort, but she had time. She also enjoyed activities like the ones she was about to engage, so a few extra moments wasn't going to stand between her and her work.

Once the man was secured to the bed, she dismissed the mercenary and went into the bathroom to run some cold water into one of the plastic cups in the cabinet near the sink.

Meanwhile, the men that had been removed rom the ballroom and locked in cabins below decks had all been stripped under the supervision of Robert Carlyle and each marked as a 'Special Instructions' package. These men were bound and gagged as the ones before them had also been, but they were also blindfolded. A number was written on them in red marker before they were taken to the boat. Carlyle made a documentation on a notepad he'd picked up, including the mens' numbers and the special handling instructions for each man.

"Okay. Let's go get the women." Carlyle said to the mercenaries with him.

Robert Carlyle and the mercenaries moved below decks again, this time they moved to the cabins into which the blonde woman had secured the women that had been separated from the rest of the group. Again, one by one, the cabin doors were opened and the women were ushered into the corridor. Almost immediately, all of the women recognized Robert Carlyle.

"Robert?" One of them asked incredulously. "What are you doing here? Why are you helping these people to do this to us?"

"Helping?" He scoffed at the woman, a pretty blonde of about twenty-five with smallish breasts and a tiny waist. "My dear, you have it all wrong. These men are helping me to do this to all of you."

The woman stood shocked, her mouth open, not knowing what to say.

"Susan," Carlyle began. "What we had together was great. Oh, who am I kidding? You were all boring fucks and I enjoyed seducing each and everyone of you right out from under your husbands' noses." He grinned as he took note of the shocked looks on all their faces. "Look, if those morons you married didn't have the sense to pay attention to you, then they deserved to have you seduced away from them. It's just their tough luck and yours that I'm the one that happened to do the seducing."

Susan, the smallish blonde, had heard enough. She tried to slap Robert Carlyle for his hurtful words, but he caught her wrist and wrenched it behind her back. He grabbed her roughly by her hair and spoke, growled, into her ear. His words were loud enough for all of the women in the corridor to hear.

"Listen and listen well, bitch," he began. "You and the rest of these useless, worthless cunts are about to undergo some pretty severe life changes. From now on, you're not going to be pampered and primping little socialite bitches. You're all going to be... Ah, but why give it away. The best part will be seeing the look on your faces when it happens to you." He released the woman and turned to the mercenaries. "Take them upstairs," he said. "I need to check on something very quickly."

"Yes sir," the mercenary said. He and the rest of the men led the women up the stairs and into the ballroom.

Carlyle, in the meantime, went looking for the blonde woman. The last time he'd seen her, she was entering one of the cabins in which one of the men had been held prisoner. She had looked quite annoyed about something. Carlyle thought he'd check on her and see how she was doing.

Soon enough, he'd found the door she'd entered and knocked. "Come in. It's open," called the voice of the blonde woman from inside. Carlyle opened the door just as the blonde woman was coming out of the washroom carrying a cup of water and a knife. He saw the man lying tied to the bed and stripped.

"Having some fun?" Carlyle asked.

"This is the bastard from before that tried to bully me. He even tried to escape. Can you imagine?" The blonde woman said with a tinge of sharpness in her voice.

"So he's in for a rough night then, it seems." Carlyle said, rather matter-of-factly.

"Yes. You could say that," the blond woman retorted.

"I'm about to load and send the last boat. I thought you'd want to know," he said.

"Alright. It will take them some time to offload and secure the cargo," she said. "I'd say we probably have two hours before pick up."

"I'd say about that, yes," he said. "I noticed while we were rounding up the men that Morgan Tate was missing. Do you know anything about that? He wasn't taken below by accident was he?"

"Tate, Morgan. Fifty, balding grey hair, six feet and one inch tall, blue eyes, high cheekbones. I memorized the pictures you gave me," she said. "He wasn't here. I don't know why, but he wasn't among the guests.."

"That's good enough for me. I trust you when you say he wasn't here. I was just wondering, because his wife still managed to make it to the party."

"Maybe she knew you were going to be here and she came even though her husband couldn't make it," the blonde woman chided.

"Perhaps," Carlyle said. "That does sound like something Rebecca Tate would do. Oh well. No matter. Her husband will just have to miss out on all the fun and excitement of his wife's degradation and torture. A shame really, but an acceptable loss."

"We could always pick him up later," she said.

"No. No. This will be better," Carlyle said. "This way I can look at him in his distress over her disappearance and have fond thoughts of what I know has happened to her while I listen to him lament." Carlyle grinned somewhat at this reverie. "Anyway, go have your fun. I'll finish up with these women and wait for the boat in the lounge."

"Alright, sir. I will be up when I finish with him," she said, indicating the tied, naked man on the bed.

"Good," he said, walking away from the cabin and lighting another cigarette as he ascended the stairs.

The blonde woman closed the cabin door, eager to begin her recreation.

Robert Carlyle proceeded to the ballroom. He took personal delight in having the women strip out of their clothes, inspecting them in front of these strange men and writing up their special instructions. All of these women were bound, gagged and blindfolded before being led to the hold of the last boat. Unknown to them, they were laid out in the hold opposite each of their husbands, with the exception of Rebecca Tate. Carlyle's special handling instructions had been given to one of the mercenaries to return with this boat.

Ten of the mercenaries returned with the last boat, leaving only two men with Robert Carlyle and the blonde woman, who was, at the moment, below having fun with her latest toy.

After Carlyle left the blonde woman and her bound plaything, she crossed to the small bed to which he was securely restrained. She splashed the cold water from the glass she was holding into his face and the man came to with a sputtering start. He looked around, somewhat confused, taking in his surrounds and his predicament. Seeing himself alone in this room with this slight-looking woman and none of those men with guns about gave him some new courage. The man instantly tried to take command of the situation.

"Now see here, young lady," he began. "I demand that you release me at once. This charade has gone on quite long enough. I would like to call for medical attention for my nose, which I am sure you have broken." To be sure, his nose and cock were both throbbing from this woman's abuse, but that wasn't going to sway the man from his determination to have himself released and to see her jailed for her affronts against him.

She looked back at him, a rather blase look on her face.

"Are you quite finished now?" she asked, rather matter-of-factly.

"What?" the man sputtered. "How dare you..."

"Shut the fuck up," she said in a stern and commanding voice. "I don't give a shit who you are in the 'real world.' It doesn't matter to me one tiny bit; you are my little toy for the next couple of hours and you are going to entertain me for that amount of time."

The man again attempted to become indignant with her, but she shushed him with a wave of her hand. The fact that the hand she waved happened to be holding a very wicked looking carbon steel knife probably helped her position somewhat.

"You see? In this little world you have just entered, I am in charge. I'm the queen bee. I'm the empress of Rome. I am the grand high poobah. You are little more to me than some piece of trash to be crushed and disposed of at my whim," she had taken on a rather imperious tone. "So, shall we get to our fun?"

"What do you intend to do to me," the man asked nervously.

"I'm going to cut off your cock and balls and feed them to you," she said, again, rather matter-of-factly.

"What?" the man asked, astonished. "You must be joking."

"Oh no," she said sitting on the bed next to him, twirling the knife in her hand. "I assure you I am not."

"No!" the man shrieked in his whiny, high-pitched voice. "No! You can't do this to me! No!" He tried to free himself from his bonds or struggle, but he was tied far too tightly to allow any significant movement. About the only thing he could do was to heave his chest up and down and that didn't seem to help his position at all.

The blonde woman smiled at him and said, "Now that's what I like to see. Squirm for me, little man."

He cried out again, pulling futilely at his bonds, but to no avail. He was held too tightly to move and could do nothing to defend himself from this knife-wielding harlot seated next to him.

"First, I am going to remove your scrotal sac," she said in a voice that was calm and detached, almost like a doctor's voice. "I'm afraid this is rather going to hurt a lot. Don't worry though. If you pass out, I'll be delighted to wake you so that you don't miss a thing. Do cry out as much as you want, though. I should enjoy hearing you scream like a little bitch for my amusement."

Without another word, she reached between his legs and, moving the man's penis out of the way, took hold of the sac of skin covering his testicles. Deftly, she began to cut it away from the rest of his body, starting where the scrotal sac attaches to the penis and moving slowly and gently around to the underside of the sac nearest the man's anus. The skin came away remarkably easily, and the man shrieked and screamed all the while the blonde woman separated the small sac from the rest of his body. The man's shrieks and helplessness coupled with the brutality of the acts which she was about to commit were, in fact, making the woman quite aroused. Perhaps she and Carlyle would have some fun of their own on the way back to the mainland.

With another deft, gentle movement of her wrist, the woman made another semi-circular cut with the knife and tugged the sac of skin away from his body. She held it before the man's face so he could see it. Despite his pain, the man could do nothing more than to stare goggle-eyed at his own scrotal sac dangling from this woman's fingers right in front of his eyes. Even though the man had stopped screaming when she had produced hi sac for his viewing pleasure, his mouth was still agape from the shock of what he was seeing. Seizing the opportunity, the blonde woman popped the hairy bit of skin into the man's mouth, jammed his jaw closed and held what was left of his nose closed so he couldn't breathe.

"Swallow it or suffocate," the blonde woman commanded. "I really don't care either way."

The man fought for a couple of moments, his face turning a bright shade of red from his efforts and the lack of air. Shortly, though, the woman heard the soft sound of a gulp as the man swallowed his own scrotal sac.

"Good boy," she said, releasing him and patting him on the forehead. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Please stop this," the man said whimpering. "Please let me go."

"Now, you see?" she said, almost in a motherly tone. "If you had been nice to me like this from the beginning, we wouldn't be here right now. Do you see what acting like an arrogant ass gets you?"

The man could not respond. He could not even look away from her scowling face as she berated him.

"Let's move on, shall we?" she asked. "We're getting to the good part now." She reached between his legs again, taking his exposed testes in her hand. There was very little blood, as no major blood vessels are present in the skin of the scrotum.

"The fun part about this," she said, moving his testicles in her hand as she spoke. "Is that your balls are still attached to your body. So anything I do to them at this point you will still feel." She gave his testicles a firm squeeze just to illustrate her point.

The man moaned, "Oh god. Please no."

"You seem to have a pretty healthy set of nuts on you," the blond woman said, ignoring his plea. "More than you could handle in one swallow, I'm afraid. So I am going to cut them into quarters and feed them to you one bite at a time. Ready?"

"Oh god no!" the man yelled out. "Please stop! No!" He screamed out in terror as the blonde woman took a book the previous occupant of this cabin must have been reading from the table next to the bed and shoved it between his legs, creating a makeshift cutting board for the woman to continue her work.

Without seeming to notice the man's panicked screams and entreaties to her to have mercy, she held one of his testicles in her fingers and, in one quick motion, sliced it in half. The man went completely stiff. Screams no longer issued from his mouth, only a forced, muted stream of air. He, of course, passed out again.

Undeterred, the woman fetched another glass of water from the small bathroom and threw it in the man's face. He woke again, his eyes bleary from shock. He seemed almost listless and unaware of his surroundings. He was awake. That was all that mattered to the blonde woman.

Quickly, she held the two halves of his dissected testicle against the book and cut each of the two pieces in half again. The man let out sort of a croaking moan and his head lolled to one side. Picking up one piece of his testis from the book, she forced it into his mouth and held it closed. Reflexively, the man swallowed it, his shock-addled brain likely not knowing any better.

The woman repeated this process with the other piece she had cut. Then she cut the remaining two pieces of the testis away from the seminal vesicle. There was a spurt of blood as she had to cut through the blood vessel connecting the testis to the body, but the blood flow didn't seem too bad. If it got out of hand, she would cauterize the wound so he wouldn't bleed to death before her torture was finished.

She fed the man the two pieces of his testicle, one after the other, and then she quartered the other one and fed it to him a piece at a time. He passed out again after she sliced the second one, but she was patient and after splashing three or four more cups of water into his face, she was able to wake him again.

The man was completely in shock by now. It was doubtful his body would even register the pain response anymore, so the blonde woman figured it was nearing time to end her fun. She did want him to be somewhat coherent for what would happen to him finally, though, so after cutting off his penis and putting it in his mouth, taping his mouth closed with duct tape and cauterizing the wound with a small butane lighter she kept in her jacket pocket, she waited for some of the shock to wear off. A glance at her watch told her that her time was running short, and it was unlikely that he would com around anytime soon.

She sighed, somewhat frustrated that she would not be able to enjoy the end of her fun more, but he was an old fellow. She had figured he would have had a heart attack or something by the time she was finished with him anyway, so her disappointment was not too great.

She tore another piece of tape from her roll and secured it over the man's broken and bruised nostrils, and then she watched as his body desperately strained for air that would not come. She looked into his eyes as his face turned from red to blue to purple his eyes stared back into hers until, after several great lurches, his body gave up and the life drained away from him.

"Good," the blonde woman said, picking up the knife. She rinsed her hands and the knife off in the bathroom sink before leaving the cabin. As she ascended the stairs back into the ballroom, she saw the boat to retrieve her and Carlyle coming alongside the yacht.

Walking to the thirty foot cabin cruiser with the two remaining mercenaries in tow, the blonde woman said to Carlyle with a half crooked smile, "After I shower, I will require your services."

"Will you now," he asked, somewhat amused. He knew she had tortured the man in the cabin to death and that it had ver likely left her in a very aroused state. "Should I be worried?"

"No," she said. "Unless you can't keep that cock of yours hard." She smiled at him and boarded the waiting boat.

Terror on the High Seas!

The pleasure yacht, My Money was discovered, after being adrift for several days in the Pacific Ocean, several hundreds of miles off the coast of California. According to sources, the yacht had been the site of the retirement party of Herbert Warner Industries CEO, Herbert Warner. The bodies of fifty people, thirty-seven guests and a crew of thirteen, were found on board. Included in the carnage were wealthy businessman and socialite Herbert Warner and his two sons Justin and Jake Warner, who were to inherit equal shares in the company after their father's retirement.

The President of Herbert Warner Industries, Robert Carlyle could not be reached for comment at this time. Carlyle is the highest ranking company executive and the company will now likely fall into his hands following this incident.

Also among the bodies found on board the My Money were...

Part Three - Group One Processing

The Collectors Estate

The next day

9:00AM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Two hundred eighty-seven," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two girls gasped as one.

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

"Oh god," the older girl said meekly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her tongue?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part Four - Group Two Processing and Group One Training

The Collectors Estate

The next day

9:00AM

As had been done the previous day, three unmarked black semi trucks backed into the loading docks in the basement of the Estate. In the trailer of the first truck were the men selected form the yacht, the second held the women, and the third held the men and women marked as special handling and selected by Robert Carlyle.

In fact, Carlyle himself was on hand for this momentous occasion. After all, it was he who had leaked the information about the yacht party to the founding members of the Collectors, it was he who had gained control of Herbert Warner Industries after Herbert and his two sons were killed - intentionally of course - during the recruiting process, and it was he who had set up the sexually frustrated wives that he had been seducing over the last few years. He had a lot at stake in these trucks, but more importantly the opportunity to gloat and feel that sweet sense of self-satisfaction was just too hard to pass up.

The unloading and processing would be handled somewhat differently today. One of the trucks held men, and that lent an element of potential physicality and unpredictability that was not usually seen in women. Therefore, the men's truck would be unloaded first and the men taken to the processing area under double the usual guard, and then the women's truck would be unloaded and they would be processed, and finally the special handling truck would be unloaded and those individuals would be processed separately by gender as well.

Under the watchful eye of ten mercenaries, each carrying a machine gun, and under the supervision of a dozen male work slaves, the first trailer was opened. For security purposes, the people that had been taken off the yacht had been left bound and gagged with tape. Not only would this make the men easier to handle, it kept the snooty, high society snobs from running their mouths as soon as the trucks were opened and getting themselves killed for trying to take charge of a situation of which there was no taking charge for them. The men were herded from the trailer and into the loading area. Each was pushed or forced to his knees on the floor to await further instructions.

Unfortunately, it turned out that they had suffered two fatalities among the men during the trip. One man, it seemed, had an allergic reaction to something and gone into shock during the trip and died. In actuality, although no one actually cared about the cause of death, the man had died from an allergic reaction to the adhesive on the duct tape used to gag him. The other man had been battling a head cold and had been on decongestant medication at the time of the party. Sometime during the trip, his medication had worn off and his sinuses had congested again, causing him to suffocate to death. The bodies of the two men were unceremoniously dragged from the loading area to be discarded in the waste.

Although Robert Carlyle was in attendance for this event, the actual address to the slaves was still left to Jonathan Clark. Jonathan Clark, along with Josephine Hancock and Stephen Harrison, had been summoned to the loading area to greet the new recruits. He gave almost exactly the same speech to the men as he had given to the women the previous day. And then when the second truck was unloaded, he gave this set of women the same speech. It was direct and to the point, and Jonathan Clark was nothing if not direct and to the point.

The men were taken off the truck, the speech was given, and then the men were sent to processing. After that, the women were taken off of their truck, the speech was given again, and then they were taken to processing. The third truck was then opened, the bound, gagged and blindfolded men and women were led off the truck, they were given the speech even though they couldn't see who was speaking to them, and then they, too, were taken to processing.

As had been done the previous day, the numbers were also counted. After the final count was taken, there were forty-seven men and sixty women, but seven of the men and eight of the women counted were marked by Robert Carlyle as special instructions. The final total was one hundred nine people. Adding that to the two hundred fourteen women from yesterday, not including the X-classes, the one woman that had been shot for not complying with instructions to leave the trailer, and the blonde woman hanging on the frame in the entry area to the dormitories, and the final count to date for the Estate was three hundred twenty-three people. That was just over half of the expected number of slaves needed to properly populate the Estate.

The processing had to be staggered somewhat so that all the men finished before the women were taken through the process. First the men were taken to a holding area to be unbound and their gags removed, they were given strict instructions to keep their mouths shut and to follow the instructions they were given, then the men were taken through processing. They were each shaved, tattooed, inspected and documented, showered, and then housed. The women were also led into a holding area and their bonds were removed. Once the last group of men had gone through the shaving room, the first group of women were escorted into it, so the processing was continual and never missed a beat. The is process was again repeated for the group of women labeled for special handling, and then again for the men in special handling.

In just under three hours, one hundred nine men and women from aboard the yacht had been processed. Most of them had been housed in the same small cells as the women the previous day. The ones that had been housed in the dormitories were, of course, given all the same instructions as the female recruits were given the day before. Naturally, though, the wealthy and powerful people didn't care much for having instructions barked at them through bars in small windows, but they really had no choice in the matter.

The fifteen people, seven men and eight women, that had been marked special handling by Robert Carlyle were taken into special area of the basement, near the main dormitories, called the 'dark rooms.' The dark rooms were similar to the cells of the dorms in the aspect that they were each four foot cubes with a hose for water, a hole for waste and a heavy door to contain the people that were placed into these rooms. However, there were also several differences between the dark rooms and the regular cells. The first difference was that the dark room were located in the floor of the small room in which they were located.

A thick, heavy, soundproofed door led into a room twelve feet wide and forty feet long. The floor of this room was divided into three sections: Two sections, running the length of the room, were made up of the four foot wide trapdoor-style doors that opened into each small cell. The center section of the floor of the room was a four foot wide walkway that ran the length of the room between the cell door. When a person was to be put into a dark room, they were led down the center aisle between the trapdoors, a door was opened, the person was pushed into the room, and the door was closed on top of them. The heavy doors of each dark room cell were soundproofed, so communication between cells was not possible, nor could any occupant hear anything from the room outside. There were no windows in these doors and no food slot. An occupant of a dark room cell was fed when that person's door was opened individually and their food pan offered to the work slave to fill. The door was then closed to that person's cell and the next one opened and the process repeated. The dark rooms were specifically designed to literally keep the occupants in the dark. No sound could penetrate into or out of the rooms and there were no lights so the occupants could see nothing. The dark rooms were most frequently used to punish slaves that talked after lights out, but on this occasion, they were used to keep the husbands and wives, marked by Robert Carlyle as special handling, separated and secret from one another. That was how he wanted them kept until the big moment came for each of their surprises, so that is how they were kept.

As the new recruits were arriving in the three unmarked trucks, the women from the previous day's processing were fed breakfast. Each woman was served two strips of bacon, - real pork bacon - a helping of eggs, and two pieces of toast. Several of the women, the vegetarians among the recruits, complained that they did not eat meat or eggs and so the tin pans belonging to each of those women were emptied back into the food carts and pushed back through the slot under the cell door empty. Those women would go without breakfast on this day.

After breakfast had been served, the women were given an hour to eat, drink water and use the bathroom; or the pipe, as the case was. At ten o'clock, work slaves entered each of the dormitories housing the nearly three hundred women. Each dorm held one hundred twenty people, so the women from the previous day had been divided into two of the five dorms. Four work slaves entered the filled dorm and four entered the partially-filled dorm. Each pair of work slaves carried an interesting length of chain.

The chain that each pair of slaves carried was thin, but sturdy, and each was over sixty feet long. At one foot intervals along each chain, a steel collar was welded into the links. Thus, a steel collar formed the front of the chain, then a one foot section of thin sturdy chain was welded at one end to the back of the first collar and at the other end to the front of the next collar. And so the chain was made until, at last, the chain ended in a final steel collar. Each collar opened on a hinge, easily allowing slaves to be added or removed from the chain without much effort. When the collars were closed about a slave's neck, a simple locking mechanism kept the collars closed. The locks could be opened with a small metal key. Despite their delicate look, the chain and collars were quite capable of holding a man or woman, even under the most intense struggling.

The pairs of work slave uncoiled each chain and laid each one out neatly in a single line on the floor of each long dormitory room. One of the slaves in each room informed the women in the cells that they would now be taken out of their cells to begin their first day of formal training. The women in the cells were instructed to come forward and stand beside a collar in the chain as they were released from their cells. They were warned that any acts of noncompliance would be met with punishment. Each work slave carried a cattle prod on a loop on his belt; this helped to illustrate the point that disobedience would be frowned upon most harshly.

One at a time, each cell door was opened and the naked and shaved women crawled from their small cells. They stood as instructed by the work slaves next to a collar in each line of chain. The women from the cells located on the right side of the room stood next to the collars along the chain laid on the right side of the floor, and the women from the left side cells stood in line at the left chain.

After all the women were released from their cells, the work slaves, one working from the front of each line of women and one working from the rear of each line, began snapping the collars about the necks of the women, forming a line of women chained collar to collar. One of the work slaves from each line of women took a leather leash from a loop on his belt and snapped the clip to the collar of the first woman in each line.

As there was only a foot between each collar, walking took some getting used to for the women in the lines. They quickly found that they each had to step with the same foot at the same time or someone would step on the back of the heel of the woman in front of her, causing several women to stumble. Ten women on one chain fell before they even got out of the dormitory door. The work slaves had to use their cattle prods to get the women back on their feet in a timely manner. Eventually, though, the problems with walking in the chain line were worked out and the women all fell into step, following the lead of the work slave holding the leash of their line. The remaining work slave for each line followed behind the women to divert any catastrophes from occurring.

The women were led into the entry room to the dorms; the room with five doors leading from it. There, still hanging from her frame, her mouth still held open by the retractor and the sign still hanging from her labia, was the woman that had been verbally abusive to Jonathan Clark the day before. Many of the women gasped when they saw here, others were shocked when they realized her tongue had been cut out, and still others could not bring themselves to look into the woman's sorrow-filled, regretful face. The message was taken very clearly by every woman in the lines, though: 'Behave or this could be you.'

As each line of slaves was led past the woman hanging on the frame, the work slaves leading them would use their cattle prods on the bare mons of the helpless woman, or they would touch the metal prongs of the highly charged prods to her nipples. Every time one of the work slaves shocked the woman with their prods, she uttered a guttural scream that barely even sounded human anymore. By the time all the lines of women were led past the woman hung on the frame, her nipples and pussy were red and blistered, tears poured down her cheeks, and she sobbed in heavy, rasping sobs.

Later that day, as the men and women from the yacht were being led to their housing, they, too, had the chance to see the girl hanging there from the wooden frame. Many were appalled at her treatment and others would not even look at her, the sight of her so offended their refined sensibilities. Their tale is yet to be written, though.

The lines, as they were called, were taken from the basement to the first floor of the Estate. Once the lines were up the stairs to the first floor, they were separated, and each line of women was taken to a different room. The rooms to which each line of women was led were apparently used for a variety of activities.

The room into which the first line of slaves was led was virtually bare, except for a heavy wooden desk and two large, locked wooden cabinets built into the richly-paneled wall behind the desk. As the slaves were led into the room, they noticed that a seductive-looking blonde woman was seated behind the desk. On the desk in front of her was a supple leather riding crop. The woman seated at the desk was none other than Collectors Estate Member Number Two, Josephine Hancock. After supervising the counts earlier this morning, Josephine had gone to her chambers and changed her clothes to something more appropriate for the day's activities. She'd arrived here just before eleven this morning, knowing that the slaves had been fed and were on their way into this room for her special tutorial.

The line of slaves was led into the room by the two work slaves and, under the supervision of Miss Hancock, were instructed to move into the room and back against the walls of the room. In a single-file line, there was no way the whole line of women would fit into this room, but having the women line up against the walls provided entirely enough room for all of the women to fit comfortably.

Once the line of slaves was in position, the two work slaves, one moving from the front of the line back and the other moving from the rear of the line forward, began to systematically remove the collars from each woman and coil the chain on which they'd been led as each woman was released from her collar. As each woman was released, she was told to stand with her back against the wall and the palms of her hands pressed against the wall. Fearing reprisals, every woman obeyed as ordered without complaint.

Josephine Hancock stood and crossed to the door of the room. She wore a loose black silk blouse, a tight black leather skirt and black leather boots. Her shirt was open enough to reveal her pale skin beneath, but not open enough to be tasteless. The hem of skirt she wore ended at her knees, but was slit on the left side to lust below the middle of the thigh, giving her ease of movement, but also revealing the lines of her legs and the curve of her buttocks. Her boots were knee-high and laced all the way up the front. The boots ended in a four inch heel, making Miss Hancock stand at just over six feet tall. She closed the door and turned to the slaves as the last of the collars were being removed. She moved to the center of the room, looking over every naked body, every shaved head, and every eyebrow-less face.

"My name is Miss Hancock," Josephine said. "This is how each one of you shall address me when you see me. If any of you ever forget that," She raised the riding crop in her hand. "Then I have ways of making a very impressionable reminder."

She moved to the first woman in the line, looking at the slave from head to toe. The slave was a young woman, probably twenty-three, she was shorter than Miss Hancock by almost a head, she had good-sized breasts that were quite firm with perky red nipples that stood erect from the effects of the chill air of the basement. Miss Hancock moved her eyes from the slave's face, letting her eyes wander obviously over the slave's firm breasts, down to her shaved, naked pubis, and even further down to her legs and feet. The slave only stood there, unable to take her eyes off of Josephine Hancock despite the woman's obvious ogling of her body.

As Miss Hancock moved on to the next woman in the line, she began to speak again in her silken voice. She said, "Today, each of you will learn some very basic instructions. You will learn how to kneel, you will learn how to crawl, how to walk properly, and a variety of positions that every one of you, to the last, will be expected to repeat at any given moment."

As she spoke, she continued to move down the line of women, her eyes moving over each naked body, almost as if she was imagining the tortures she would later lavish upon each naked morsel and each bare inch of exposed flesh. She continued, saying, "I assure you that before each of you leave this room you will know these positions and postures by heart. I can also assure you that if you go out into the Estate and fail to perform these positions and postures as you are instructed here today, then you will make me look badly in the eyes of my peers. Trust me when I tell all of you that making Miss Hancock look badly will be very, very bad for the offender."

It was as Miss Hancock was passing near the middle of the line of slaves that one of the slaves made her first mistake. Miss Hancock had stopped in front of the woman and was examining her as she had examined each of the women before her. The woman was shorter than Josephine by about six inches and was a little plump but not enough to mark her as an X-class. She had large, round breasts that had to be double D-cups at the very least. She also had, as Josephine Hancock was slightly amused to notice, a birthmark on the front of her freshly' shaved mons. Her mons, Josephine also noticed, was covered in red bumps, indicating this woman did not ever shave her pubic hair, or if she did it was not very often. Josephine figured the woman was probably self-conscious of the birthmark. So, while she was examining the woman, she let her eyes linger on the birthmark for longer than usual.

Exactly as Josephine had planned, the woman moved her hands from the wall to cover her naked pubis. Before the woman even knew what happened, Josephine struck. In one quick slash, she struck the woman directly across both of her large breasts with the riding crop she carried. Instantly, the woman screamed out and brought her hands up to protect her breasts from further harm. Josephine, having anticipated this, slashed out with the crop again, this time striking the woman across her ample hips and pubis. The woman cried out again and moved her hands to protect her stinging nether region. When she moved her hands, the mark from the crop, a red welt across both the woman's breasts right above the nipples, was visible to every woman in the room. Again the woman screamed and covered her breasts with her hands.

Josephine placed the tip of the crop under the woman's chin and raised the woman's eyes to meet her own. The woman had tears in her eyes from the pain brought by the stinging of the riding crop. The pain was evidenced by the angry red welt across the front of the woman's hips.

"Listen to me," Miss Hancock said. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "You keep your hands against the wall or I will beat you until every inch of you is purple. Do you understand me?"The woman nodded, terrified.

Josephine took one step back from the woman and, in a motion that was so quick it could barely be seen, swung the crop in a hard backhand slap against the woman's right cheek. The woman cried out and grabbed her face with her hands. She bent over to keep Josephine from hitting her breasts again and she began to really cry now from the pain.

"I asked you if you understood me, slave!" Miss Hancock hissed at the woman. Her voice had gone from smooth silk ecstacy to chilling daggers of anger in the space of about one second.

"I understand you!" the woman cried out between sobs.

Josephine raised her arm and brought the riding crop down squarely between the woman's shoulder blades. The woman cried out again, her sobs amplified by the new pain, and fell to her knees. Josephine let the woman remain there for a few seconds, hunched like a turtle on her knees, a red stinging welt rising across her back, while she admired the pain the slave was in.

"I don't think you heard me correctly, slave," Miss Hancock hissed again. "Do you understand the instructions you were given or not?"

The woman sobbed on the floor on her knees in front of Miss Hancock for several more seconds before she was finally able to answer, "Yes, Miss Hancock. I understood you." The words barely came out of the woman's mouth, she was sobbing so badly.

"Good," Miss Hancock said, her voice returning to its normal silken tone. "Now, stand up and do as you were told. Hurry!"

The woman picked herself up off of the floor and placed her back against the wood paneled wall with a wince of pain and again placed the palms of her hands against the wall. There were two straight, swollen red lines across her large breasts and one across her hips. Her right cheek was swollen and red from where Josephine had struck her in the face. The slave would have bruises for a couple of days to remind her of her mistake.

Still standing in front of the plump woman, but speaking to every woman in the room, Josephine Hancock said, "You are not allowed modesty here. You will all submit to inspections, caresses, ogling, and more and you will not cower or cover yourselves. You will present your bodies to whatever amusements the people here choose for them. If you do not, you will be tortured, punished, or even killed."

Many of the women gasped. Josephine continued, saying, "Every one of you would benefit by getting it into your heads right now that all of you are expendable and that all of you are easily replaceable. You are all playthings for our amusements. The sooner each of you come to terms with that fact, the better off each of you will be."

Josephine noticed the nervous glances from around the room and smiled inwardly. She went on, "From now on, you will all learn to serve us in whatever manner we require. In return, you will be housed, fed, exercised, and groomed. Fail to live up to our expectations and you will learn the consequences of rousing our displeasure."

She reached out and gently touched the reddened cheek of the woman trembling before her. The woman flinched, expecting to be struck again, but Josephine only stroked her cheek lightly and eventually took her hand away after a few seconds.

"During the remainder of your time here with me today," she said, speaking to all of the women. "Do as you are instructed, do not make any mistakes, and remember what you are told. I do not wish to punish any of you further today, but I will if you make me."

She began moving down the line of women again, speaking to the group and examining each woman with her eyes. In her opinion, this group of women were lovely. Sixty of them, all at her bidding, and the slightest infraction could be severely punished. She loved it! She also loved the variety they offered. All kinds of body types, all sizes and shaped of breasts, each lovely little pussy shaved and smooth, and each tattooed as a piece of property. The rush of power was heady for her. She knew she was going to have to keep one of these women today, after her instruction, to use for her amusement. Just beating that chubby girl's fat tits had made her pussy wet. She couldn't wait to have one of them working at her clit with their tongue. Or whipping their tits while she brutally fucked one of them with a nice, large, studded strap-on. Yes, she would indeed have to have one of these girls for herself today.

In the meantime, she continued to instruct the women in the line. She said, "The positions and postures you will learn have many functional uses and may also be pleasing to any of the members here to see. For example, when you are walking through the halls here, and one day each of you will be allowed to do so on your own, and you see a member of the Estate approaching you, the polite thing to do is to drop to your knees and lower your eyes in deference to that member's authority over you.

"If he or she has a use for you, then he or she will then address you. If not, he will continue past you and leave you to whatever duties you were set to perform. All requests should be carried out, but must also be prioritized for timeliness and convenience. Not your convenience, of course, but the members' convenience that have made requests of your services."

Josephine was passing a thin woman, very pale, probably a blonde when she had hair. The woman had perky little breasts and it was obvious her pussy was used to being bare, so smooth was the skin. The woman's nipples were pink and puffy, but not erect. She had become used to the warmer air on this floor. Josephine cupped one of the woman's small breasts in her hand and slid her fingers toward the woman's soft pink nipple. She rolled the nub between her fingers as she continued to talk to the group of slaves. The woman did not make any attempt to cover herself and her nipple became hard almost at once under Josephine's tender ministrations.

"Have no illusions about your purpose here," Miss Hancock said, continuing to roll the young woman's nipple in her fingers. "You will be used for sex here." She paused as several of the women in the group cringed or sobbed. "Many of you will be used for sex many times daily. You will be used by both men and women for whatever sex acts will please them the most."

She released the woman's nipple as she moved on down the line. She did catch the young woman looking after her, though, as she was examining the next woman.

"In time, every one of you will use your mouths, your pussies, and your asses to satisfy the members here," she paused as, again, some women groaned or cried at the though of being violated in such ways. "In fact, in time, many of you will offer the use of your mouths, pussies, and asses for use. Don't think it won't happen, because it will. Eventually, you will become accustomed to being used as sex toys for our pleasures. More frightening to all of you now is that, in time, you will even begin to enjoy being used for our sexual pleasures."

She looked around to see how the women were reacting. Some of them were stifling cries, others were shaken but seemed to be dealing with the news, and still others seemed barely affected by the thought of their bodies being used by strangers against their wills. Were these women already adapting to their situations? Perhaps the hopelessness of their situations had numbed them to feeling shocked by the idea of being used sexually by these people. Or perhaps some of them realized what was happening and were defiantly planning to not be used sexually, to escape from the Estate, or to give up and be killed rather than allow themselves to be used and humiliated for the sexual gratification of strangers. In any case, Josephine knew, they would either get used to the idea or they would die trying.

"And don't think we just want you for your sex, either," Miss Hancock continued, still moving down the line of women and examining each one in detail as she spoke. "There are so many other things for the lot of you to do here. Eventually, some of you will help the work slaves in the cleaning duties or food service duties here. Some of you will be used as servers at parties hosted by the Estate. There are a host of activities for all of you to do here, but don't ever forget that your primary function here is to serve us."

She had reached the end of the line of women and was standing before a tall, thin woman. The woman was even taller than Josephine was in heels. The woman was older, maybe in her late thirties to early forties. She had small breasts that weren't as firm as some of the younger women's were, but she had long smooth legs. On the outside of each of her thighs, the woman had very detailed tattoos of dragons in flight. The heads of the dragons were near the tops of her thighs and the tails ended about four inches above the woman's knees.

Josephine reached out her right hand and traced the lines of the dragon on the woman's left thigh. "Very nice," she said.

"Thank you, Miss Hancock," the woman said. Her voice was deep, sultry-sounding, and had the same quality as Miss Hancock's did when she spoke. Her voice sounded like sex in your ears. The woman was looking back into Josephine's eyes, and in those eyes Josephine could see the glint of something. Desire, perhaps? Anger? Lust? Josephine made a mental note to find out later all she could about this woman.

"Alright," Josephine said, stepping away from the tall woman. "Beginning with you," she indicated the tall woman with dragon tattoos. "Form six rows of ten each row." She moved about five feet in front of the desk. "The first row forms here, the next row about four feet behind the first, and so on. Move! Let's get going!"

One at a time, the women quickly filed into neat rows, each woman facing forward and watching Miss Hancock. Every woman waited for her next instruction, each hoping not to displease this woman that could swing such a vicious riding crop.

Josephine put the women through rigorous paces, enforced by liberal applications of the riding crop. She taught the slaves how to kneel properly. She applied the crop to many a thigh and shoulder blade while giving her instructions on how wide the knees should be apart or how straight the back should be and how the breasts should be thrust forward. She taught them to crawl as well. During the crawling tutorial, she instructed them on holding their heads up as they crawled, keeping their fingers pointed straight ahead, their palms on the floor shoulder-width apart, and their backs slightly curved so their asses were raised somewhat. She taught them to walk properly, with their backs straight, their chins high and their eyes forward. They were instructed to take graceful strides and to keep their hands at their sides unless they were carrying something.

They were also shown a variety of other positions. They were shown the 'hair' position, where they would bend forward slightly and turn their heads to one side, as if to offer their hair as a lead. Josephine told them this position would come in handy if ever a member was required to lead them somewhere, but didn't have a leash handy. Of course, the slaves would have to grow some hair first before that position could be used effectively, but it was still required of them to know the position for when it would be needed in the future. The slaves were shown the 'whipping' position; a posture used if a slave was ever in immediate trouble and needed to be corrected. She would lie on her belly with her arms held over her head with her wrists crossed, and her ankles were to be crossed as well. Hair, if they had any, was to be moved off the back and shoulders and the forehead was to be pressed firmly to the ground. This offered a member immediate and complete access to the slave's entire shoulders, back, ass, thighs, and calves when corporal punishment was to be administered. Josephine made it quite well-known that the slaves should pay particular attention to learning the whipping position properly, as it was likely going to be the position they found themselves most often until they learned the ropes of the Estate.

They were shown many other positions as well, nearly fifty in all. The entire instructional took almost four hours to complete and, they were told, they would be here again the next three days learning these positions. Josephine was a strict Taskmaster, but she informed this group that they'd gotten off easy having her as an instructor. Some of the others were much, much harder on new recruits than she was. To be sure, that wasn't entirely true. The Estate itself had never had recruits before, but in certain circles some of the people that were now members of the Estate were known for their sadism or their cruelty to slaves in their service. Some of the cruelest of the founding members were the ones that were selected as teachers and trainers for the Estate, and precisely because they were cruel. Jonathan Clark himself wanted new recruits to learn their lessons quickly, efficiently, and with serious consequences for mistakes made. In fact, Jonathan Clark was, at this very moment, instructing a group of slaves in another room in the very same positions and postures these slaves were learning.

All of the slaves that had been brought upstairs and into each of these rooms were being taught position training. It was the first thing they would learn, the most important thing they would learn, and the one thing they would need to excel at in order to survive for very long at the Estate. The members of the Estate wanted pleasing sluts that would serve them well, provide them with sexual satisfaction, do as they were told when they were told, and they did not want to have to give reminders to obtuse slaves. It was easier to kill them off and replace the stupid ones with slaves that would learn to do as they were told.

Some of the Estate's members had been in societies similar to the Estate before, but on much smaller scales, in underground area of their home cities. They were used to seeing slaves trained, tortured, raped, abused, maimed, or even killed all for the pleasures of the society's members. It would be no different at the Estate. If a slave was too reticent or stupid to be useful, she would be killed, usually after being tortured for some days, and another slave would be brought in to replace the useless meat that had come before.

Josephine didn't tell these slaves all of that information, though. She did, however, make it abundantly clear that the importance of these positions and postures was utmost. She even mentioned more than once that their lives might depend on how well and how quickly each slave mastered each position. Josephine was not a subtle woman by any stretch of the imagination, but she also knew that terrifying the new recruits with tales of torture, gore and death would not make them better slaves. It would only make them scared ones. And scared was fine, in some cases, but often too much fear was counter-productive. Fear of having your tits welted by a riding crop was motivational, but fear of being gutted and fed to hungry dogs before you bled to death was certain to reduce the effectiveness of the training.

By three o'clock, nearly all of the slaves were sore from having been struck by Josephine's crop, they were tired from the rigorous training they'd undergone, and they were hungry from missing lunch. Josephine ordered the work slaves to chain the slaves back into the collar line and to take them back to the dorm to be fed a late lunch. Before she could be replaced in the collar chain, however, Josephine ordered the tall woman with the dragon tattoos to remain in the room. She also ordered the plump woman with the large breasts to stay as well. Josephine Hancock had plans for the both of them for later in the day.

At noon, it was lunchtime in the dormitories. Work slaves wheeled in the carts of heated food and began to serve the slaves from the yacht that had been processed earlier. Even though they had not eaten in over two days, the majority of these formerly-wealthy and powerful people refused the food that was given to them. Some ate, but for the most part the food was refused for several reasons. Either it was not to the standards that some of these people would accept, or it went against their diets, or some of them refused to eat until they were released from their captivity.

The work slaves just shrugged and poured the food back into the pans on the cart. They returned the tin pans under the doors from which they'd come previously. These fools would eat when they got hungry enough. If not, then no big loss anyway. They were going to make terrible slaves and everyone at the Estate knew it.

Still, they served a purpose. With the majority of the power structure of Herbert Warner Industries out of the way and Robert Carlyle now in control of the company, the Estate stood to gain considerable amounts of money and influence. Even more than it already enjoyed now. So, for now, they'd be kept, processed and trained. If the attitude couldn't be beaten or frightened out of them, then they'd be killed and replaced by people less stubborn. This batch was already getting on the nerves of the work slaves, the volunteer staff, and even some of the members. It was unlikely many of them would survive the first week.

Jeri Denise Sullivan was awakened cruelly at a few minutes before nine in the morning. She felt a sharp sting between her legs and had startled immediately awake. Work slaves with the morning food carts were waiting in the entryway to the dorms and had a few minutes of time to kill before they delivered breakfast to the slaves. So, they spent their time tormenting the girl on the X-frame. One of the slaves had approached her and thumped her hard in the clit with his finger. She'd woken up immediately. Her red eyes looking about wildly to see what had happened. The slave thumped her again and laughed as she finally noticed him standing just in front of her.

The work slave jeered the bound and mutilated girl, calling her a wide variety of names and taunting her with food from their carts. Jeri began to cry, but it didn't matter to the work slaves. She was supposed to be tormented, insulted, and degraded. In fact, the work slaves had all been told to go out of their way to make her as miserable as possible as long as it didn't interfere with their daily duties.

After a few moments, the slaves had to deliver breakfast and Jeri was left alone again. As depressing as it sounded, she missed the men as soon as they were gone. At least when they were taunting her, someone was talking to her. Now, she was alone again and left to her shame.

Several moments later, the work slaves returned from feeding the slaves in the dorms, but they were too busy talking among themselves to even notice Jeri hanging from the frame. Jeri was left alone again to ponder her thoughts in discomfort on the frame. She was hungry and she was thirsty. She hadn't been fed or had anything to drink since the day of the convention, and that felt like a very long time ago to her. She tried to go back to sleep, but found herself unable to even do that to relieve her agony.

In just under an hour, another group of work slaves entered the room. They were carrying odd chains with what looked like collars attached to them. One of the work slaves asked another if they should let the girl have some of their prods. The other slave responded that getting the slaves into the chains was more important and, if they had time, they could give her the what-for on their way out. It must have taken nearly an hour for the work slaves to complete their duties in the dorms, because Jeri hung there for what seemed like an eternity. Then, finally, one and then another of the doors opened and the slaves were led out of the dorms on long chains. As they passed her, each of the work slaves touched their cattle prods to her pussy or one of her nipples. Most of them only did it for a second, but a couple left the prods there for several seconds until blisters formed on the area of her skin where the metal ends of the prods touched her. Every electrified touch brought another scream out of Jeri, but the voice that was screaming wasn't even hers anymore. She didn't even recognize it, it was so unlike her normal voice.

Soon enough, however, they were all gone and she was alone again. Alone to hang there in her misery and her agony. The inside of her mouth was burned and bone dry. She wasn't even drooling anymore. It was as if her mouth had completely dried up. Her whole mouth ached as well. It was a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to flare with her every pulse. Her pussy and nipples also ached in much the same way. Still, she could barely even register the pain. She felt like she was slowly slipping away from it. Away form pain, away from hunger, from thirst, from the light. She was dying. She knew she had to be dying. She felt like the less pain she felt, the less hunger and thirst, the further she slipped away from life.

She hung there on her frame for only god knew how long before the door behind her opened again. A new set of freshly shaved and tattooed slaves were led into the room. Unlike the women from the previous day, these slaves complained to their captors and escorts. They made empty threats, they threatened legal action, they even demanded to be released and returned to their families. Most of the new set of slaves didn't even seem to notice her. She saw several of them look up at here, but quickly look away, as if her countenance was too horrible to bear. Very likely, it was, Jeri knew.

Several moments later, or two hours later for all Jeri knew, the work slaves returned from housing the new set of slave recruits. These slaves didn't even pay her any attention at all, though. They just walked past her as if she didn't exist and exited through the door behind her.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she knew, the door behind her was opened and the cruel work slaves from this morning had returned with the collared lines of slaves on chains.

She noticed through her hazy awareness that it looked as if most of the slaves had been beaten. She didn't know why, and couldn't really get her mind to focus on it for too long. She seemed to be having trouble focusing on anything for very long now.

Suddenly, there were fresh flashes of pain all over her body. She snapped awake quickly. The chains of slaves were gone, but the work slaves had returned with their cattle prods. They had begun to jab her with the prods again. This time, they didn't just focus on her pussy and tits. They were all over her, prodding her ass, legs, armpits, belly, and hips as well as the more sensitive areas. One of them had even pulled her away from the frame so that he could prod her anus. She jumped and screamed wildy when that was done.

All of the work slaves seemed to be having a grand time jeering her, causing her pain, and torturing her. Jeri wondered how bad the masters could be if the slaves were this awful. At some point, she must have passed out again, because everything just went black suddenly.

At 9:10 AM, there came a knock at the door. William "Willie" Johnson rose from the sofa on which he'd been sitting watching television. He crossed tot he door and opened it. Outside the door was a work slave with a cart of food.

"Hi," the work slave said. "I'm here to feed the girls that were left in your care."

"Oh sure," Willie said, moving aside. Willie was a large black man. He was the larger of the two black men that currently resided in this suite. "Yeah. I guess they never got fed yesterday. Better give them something. We don't want them passing out on us when things start getting really fun."

The two girls were still sleeping, practically comatose from the previous nights' abuses. Not even the television had woken them, so exhausted were they. The work slave tapped the cage doors with the toe of his shoe and the girls were instantly startled awake. They both clutched their blankets about their bodies, expecting to be torn from the cages and brutalized yet again. They relaxed somewhat when they saw the male slave standing outside the cages holding plates of food.

"Breakfast," he said. He placed the two paper plates holding scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the floor in front of the cages. He opened the doors of the cages and passed the plates to the girls before again closing the cage doors and locking them. The girls began to scoop the food into their mouths with their fingers as soon as the plates were in their hands. Forgotten were the blankets and fear of future rapes. All that concerned them now was filling their desperately empty bellies.

The work slave excused himself from the room and Willie shut the door behind him, returning to the couch to watch television again. After a few moments, he had an idea. He went into the kitchen a poured two glasses of cold water. He took the water to the girls in the cages, opening them as the work slave had before, giving the water to the girls, and then closing and locking the cages once he was finished. The girls even managed to thank Willie. They had not eaten or drunk anything, except the mens' semen, for the last three days. Each of them were terribly dehydrated and starving.

Once they finished their food and water, the girls asked Willie if they could have another glass. They told him they hadn't had anything to drink in a long time and needed more. He agreed to give them more water. He even agreed to let them out of the cages and let them stretch their legs as long as they behaved themselves. The girls were in no position to dissent.

Willie fetched two leather tethers and a leather collar from the cabinet next to the entertainment stand. He opened the cages and fitted the collar on the neck of the girl who hadn't been collared the previous night. He snapped one end of each tether to the ring in each girl's collar and then snapped the other end to the sturdy rings on the underside of the coffee table. The girls could stand and walk around, but the tethers were only six feet long. So the girls weren't going very far. The coffee table was a solid wood furnishing and weighed almost four hundred pounds. Even if the girls pulled together, they couldn't budge the massive thing, and there was no way it would fit out the doorway unless they turned the table on its side.

Willie went into the kitchen and poured two more glasses of water for the girls and returned to the living room. He gave the girls the water, which they both gulped down quickly, and sat down to watch television again. The girls were left standing naked in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. Certainly, they could have drunk more water, but they didn't want to be more bothersome to the man watching over them. They didn't want to anger him for fear he might hurt them, or worse. So, the girls stood there, looking about the room uncertainly.

Willie seemed to noticed the girls' uncomfortable looks and how they seemed to just be standing confused. He decided to take them for a walk so they could properly stretch their legs and perhaps relax a little. Well, relax as much as a couple of girls that were about to be the centerpieces of an eighty-man orgy could, he guessed.

He unsnapped the tethers from the rings on the coffee table and led the girls out the door into the hallway. They turned left out of the suite and headed into a large common area. The common area looked like an atrium from which several hallways emerged. Plants and benches for seating were arranged artfully in the atrium and gave the whole area a pleasant, relaxed feeling.

As Willie walked the girls into the atrium, a man entered the room from one of the hallways. He was the same man that had separated the girls and had told them to enter the cages the previous day. He approached Willie and began talking to him about the girls.

"Ah," he began. "Our two unexpected pleasures. You guys did a great job finding these two and recruiting them. So far, none of the others have taken that kind of initiative."

"Well, most of us are trained soldiers," Willie replied. "We take orders and carry them out like we're supposed to. When we saw these two cuties, we didn't figure you guys would mind if we picked them up, too. The more the merrier, right?"

"You've got that right," the man said. "Especially when they are as nicely shaped as these two. Have the guys gotten the chance to see them yet?"

"Just a few of them," Willie said. "There were only four of us in last night. The rest of the guys are on a supply run for that new recruiting mission. We're supposed to leave out tomorrow."

"They'll be in today, though, right?" the man asked, as if he wanted to make sure all the mercenaries got to see the girls.

"Oh yeah," Willie said. "Absolutely. And they are going to love these two." The girls cringed as he said that.

"Just make sure we get them back in one piece," Jonathan Clark said. "They might have been unexpected, but we'd sure hate to lose them. Well, so soon anyway," he added with a smile.

"We're not going to damage them, I promise," Willie said. "We'll have our fun with them like you said, and then we'll have them snug back in their cages first thing tomorrow morning for pick up."

"Good," Jonathan said. "In the meantime, why don't you take them down to processing? There's a new batch moving through right now, but I'm sure you could slip these two in after the last few go through and they won't mind processing a couple of extras."

"That sounds like a good idea," Willie said. "I was going to just walk them around for awhile since they've been cooped up in those cages since yesterday, but that sounds like a better idea to me."

"Good. Have fun with them today," Jonathan Clark said and walked away, ending the conversation.

"Well, you heard the man," Willie said to the girls. "Let's get you two down to processing."

The girls looked at one another nervously. Neither were sure whether this was a good thing or not. Willie tugged on the tethers attached to their collars and led them down a hallway. He led them downstairs and turned down a stone hallway, but stopped and seemed to be unsure of where he was. He turned around and walked the opposite way down the hallway, but paused again. A naked slave girl emerged from a doorway just ahead of them.

"Excuse me," Willie said. The girl instantly dropped to her knees, thighs apart, eyes lowered to the floor. The girls both saw, very clearly, the number '17' tattooed in red on her mons. "Can you help me find processing? I forgot where it was."

The slave immediately looked up into Willie's eyes. "Yes sir," she said. "You proceed down this hallway the way you are going now, then turn left at the end of the hallway. That will take you straight past the processing area. You won't be able to miss it. There are several people in the area. Would you like me to lead you there, sir?"

"No thanks. I think I can find it," Willie said. "Thank you, slave girl."

"You're welcome, sir," the slave said. Willie passed by her, following her instructions and she returned to her feet and continued about her duties.

Willie turned into the hallway that led to processing and immediately saw what the slave girl had meant. Waiting outside the double doors to the processing are were several of the mercenaries and many naked slaves. Willie stopped and made conversation with the other mercenaries while the group in the hallway finished processing. He told the girls to sit and be quiet while they waited. The girls obeyed without a word. After an hour or so, the new group was finished with processing and Willie led the girls into the first room.

He untethered the girls and took off the collars they were wearing, as they would only get in the way during processing. He told the girls he would meet them after they were finished. The girls were being shown into two of the shaving chairs as Willie turned and left the room.

The girls were taken through the processing process and, if it was possible, the horror they felt in this place had just doubled. It wasn't bad enough that they had their heads shaved, but strange naked women had also shaved off their pubic hair as well. Then to add to their humiliation, they were tattooed with a number, just like the other slave girls they'd seen in the halls before. The only difference was that the number the girls wore was black and all the numbers they'd seen to this point had been red. They were sure that meant something, and were even more sure that it meant something bad. In the hallways beyond, their piercings were removed and they were inspected by two more naked women who wrote notes about them on a clipboard. The shower was nice, though, but far too short to wash to unclean feelings off the girls. Each of them could still taste the men in their mouths and feel the soreness from where the men had been inside them. The short shower would do nothing to wash that away.

The girls were shown out of the door and into another room. Willie was waiting there for them with the collars and tethers. He strapped the collars back on the girls' neck and reattached the tethers to the collars. Without a single word, he led the girls out of the room and back upstairs. Each girl was now shaved smooth and sported three new tattoos. They were now true slaves of the Collectors.

Back upstairs, the hallways and atrium had filled with men. Several groups had formed and the men were talking about a variety of subjects. Willie immediately greeted the nearest group and began showing the girls around like trophies. The girls were taken from Willie and passed about from man to man and, as much as they tried to prevent it, were groped and fondled repeatedly. Many comments were made about what the men would like to do to the girls and what they'd like to have the girls do to them. In almost no time, the rumor had made the round that the two girls were sisters, and instantly the men began planning what each of them could do to one another as well. The girls had never felt so humiliated before in their lives.

Unfortunately for them, things would get a lot worse before they got any better. After what seemed like an eternity of this treatment, the girls were finally taken again by Willie and led back to his room. The other three men were there again. They were drinking beers and watching a game on the television. The three men whistled lewdly as the freshly shaven and tattooed girls were brought into the room.

Willie informed the other three guys that he was going with them to the cafeteria to get something to eat. The other three guys said they hadn't eaten yet and would join him. The television was turned off and all four men left the room together. The girls were once again left alone in their cages to ponder their impending fates.

"Did you see how many of them there were?" the older sister asked.

"Did you hear what they wanted us to do to each other and to them?" the younger girl asked back.

The feeling of dread settled over the both of them like a pall. They knew this was going to be a long, long day.

Eight work slaves led the lines of women, minus the two that Josephine Hancock had ordered held aside, back to the dorms. At a few minutes after three in the afternoon, the slaves were being released from the chains and returned to their housing in the cells. The work slaves finished at a few minutes before four, so they decided to have some fun with the girl hung on the frame before they had to bring the next group in for their training. They tortured the girl relentlessly for about five minutes before she finally passed out. There was some question as to whether or not the girl was actually dead. It was common knowledge that part of her torture was no food and no water. The work slaves figured that, after three days, she was probably only hanging on by a thread.

The work slaves moved into the dorms housing the new groups of slaves. As soon as the work slaves began opening their cell doors, the slaves inside began complaining about one thing or another and started making threats about what they would do when they were released form this prison in which they'd been unlawfully held. This behavior was, of course, expected and the work slaves were prepared to deal with it. They'd been given permission to use the prods liberally on this group of slaves and to do nearly anything necessary to shut them up. Therefore, the more the slaves complained as they were being lined up and put into the chains, the more the work slaves used their cattle prods. Eventually, the slaves did get the point and began to slowly shut up and let the work slaves work in silence. Of course, by the time that happened, the vast majority of the slaves in the lines had multiple blisters on their bodies from the prods. Many of the women were in tears, but they still made the attempt at being defiant. The slaves in the lines didn't want to move when the work slave at the front of the line tugged on the leash. This only happened in the female lines of course. So, the work slaves began applying the cattle prods to their bodies again in an effort to motivate the women into moving.

Finally, they got the lines of slaves moving forward and led them up to the first floor and into the rooms the previous lines had been led. There were only three lines this time, and each was partially empty. Because the number two dormitory was only partially filled by the day one recruits, twenty-four women from the day two recruits were placed into dormitory number two to fill it out. That left twenty-eight women and forty men to be housed in dormitory three. So, the work slaves, in order to keep the men and women separated and not to have to take the extra time to create one line out of two dorms of women, were instructed to just make three lines and the afternoon training would be done in smaller classes than the morning training was done.

Thus, the lines were led into three of the training rooms. Josephine Hancock was also running one of the afternoon training sessions. She had, unfortunately, been chosen to train the men in this group. She knew at once that they were going to be a bother. They were going to underestimate her and not take her instructions seriously. Four mercenaries had been ordered to oversee her training course, just in case the men became too belligerent or abusive. Josephine had been given instructions to eliminate the entire group if they wouldn't take her instructions. The Estate needed women more than men anyway, and they could always find more easily manageable men to fill the empty slots.

The men were led into the room and told to move against the walls, just as the women had been told to do earlier that morning. The work slaves removed the mens' collars and coiled the chain and took places along with the mercenaries off to one side of the room.

Almost as soon as their collars were removed and the men realized the woman was in charge, they instantly tried to assert their control over the situation. They refused to stand against the walls, they refused to keep their palms against the walls as instructed, they threatened her and warned that they would bring legal action against her and this facility as soon as they were released from here Josephine tried to handle the situation to the best of her abilities, and she was usually quite good at handling situations like this, but this group with their attitude was not leaving her much leeway with which to work.

She struck four of the men with her crop, hitting them all squarely in their penises, and then she ordered them all back against the walls and to maintain their positions. Unfortunately, her actions only served to inflame the men even more. It was like they didn't even notice the four armed men in the room, but instead focused all their attention on the woman in charge of the room. Josephine imagined that none of the men thought they would be shot anyway, despite what that other blonde bitch had done on the yacht.

Josephine Hancock had taken enough. These men were trying to railroad her and were almost completely out of control. She motioned to the mercenaries and pointed to the four men closest to her. As one, the mercenaries raised their weapons and shot the four men where they stood. All of them fell to the floor, each with his mouth still open in silent protest.

"Now, unless the rest of you want to..." Josephine began, but suddenly the room erupted. The men charged past her in an attempt to overpower the men with the weapons. The apparent logic was that, if they could get the weapons, they could try to force their way out of this place. Their logic, they soon found out, was flawed and things went badly quickly.

By the time the entire fiasco was over, all the men were dead and not one mercenary, not one work slave, nor Josephine had even been touched by the rebelling men. The mercenaries had switched their weapons to automatic firing and had opened fire into the crowd of men. As soon as the men had pushed past her, Josephine had hit the floor, knowing fully well what was about to transpire. The mercenaries had systematically swept the angry mob with bullets and in seconds they were all dead on the floor. As soon as the last shot had been fired, one of the work slaves fled the room to fetch Jonathan Clark from his office. Jonathan was not instructing an afternoon group; he had four shipments to oversee that had all been scheduled in the same hour.

Josephine Hancock was livid! She picked herself up off the floor immediately and stalked to her desk, slamming the riding crop down on the desk with an echoing crack. She rarely ever lost her cool. All of her voice intonations were carefully planned for maximum effect and no matter what, she rarely allowed herself to truly get angry. However, right now, she was really, truly angry. She wasn't angry that the men had so little respect for her. She knew they weren't going to respect her before she'd even seen them. She wasn't even angry that the men had been killed. She could care less about the jumbled, bloody mess of penises on the floor. What made her so mad was the fact that this was going to make her look badly and could possibly harm her reputation among the members. Reputation counted for a lot among the Collectors, and to have one's reputations damaged could cost that person some amount of credibility in the eyes of the others.

Jonathan Clark burst suddenly into the room. At once, all the mercenaries leveled their weapons on him, but immediately lowered them when they saw who he was.

"Josephine!" he said breathlessly. "Are you okay?"

"No!" she shouted. Jonathan almost took a step back. He'd never seen her so angry before. "Those stupid sons of bitches gave me no choice, Jonathan. I want that to be made perfectly clear. They gave me no choice. They tried to attack these men here and we were left with no alternative but to kill them all."

"I know," he said, trying to calm her. "It's no big deal. We knew they weren't going to last anyway. Don't worry about it."

This could hurt my reputation here, Jonathan," Josephine said, slamming her fist on the table. "I could become known as someone who couldn't keep her slaves in order. If that's what happens, I'm finished here. No one will respect me here again."

"That's not going to happen, Jo," Jonathan said in a calm, comforting voice. "No one here is going to fault you for this. Trust me. If they try, I will set the record straight. You cannot lose your standing here unless I approve it anyway. So, settle down. It'll all be fine." He motioned to two of the work slaves in the room. "Why don't you go up to your room and relax for awhile? We'll get this mess cleaned up and everything will be back to normal in the morning."

The two work slaves moved to escort Josephine to her room. She pushed her hair back from her face and looked from Jonathan to the pile of bodies on the floor.

"Maybe you're right," she said. "I could probably use the rest anyway." She looked back at him. "Are you sure nothing's going to come of this?"

"Nothing at all," he replied with a smile. "I promise you'll be fine."

"Thank you," she said and left the room with her work slave escorts.

Jonathan turned to the work slave that had fetched him. He said in his efficient, in control voice, "Get a clean up detail down here. Let's get these bodies out of her and get this room cleaned before any of these stains set in." The work slave immediately darted from the room.

Jonathan Clark then turned to the mercenaries and said, "You guys are dismissed. Go ahead and get ready for the pick-ups tomorrow. You guys are going to be busy, I think."

The mercenaries all left the room to rejoin their unit. Two more recruiting missions were beginning tomorrow. The unit to which these mercenaries were assigned were in charge of one of the pick-ups and the unit that the sister slaves had been loaned was in charge of the other.

The remainder of the training classes went off as planned and without any further losses. It seemed the women were more eager to accept their places than the men were. Especially after they learned how badly a willow cane or a leather riding crop across their breasts and faces could hurt. The attitudes of the women of this group seemed to undergo a noticeable change once their training session was finished. Perhaps the gravity of their situation had begun to truly dawn on them finally.

Four hours later, the women were again placed into the collar chain and taken by the work slaves back to their cells. They did not complain, they did not fight, and this time they did exactly as they were told to do.

A few moments after the vicious work slaves had taken the new lines of slaves away, the girl on the frame was awakened again. This time it was not by any sound or painful sensation, but by a smell. A group of four naked female slaves were wheeling in covered carts, but Jeri could smell the food in the carts.

She tried to say 'please feed me,' but all that came out of her mouth was a cracked grunting sound. The slaves didn't even hear her. Or if they did, they chose to ignore her.

The slave girls wheeled the food carts into the dormitories and called for the pans to be offered. Many pans appeared under slots in the doors, including some pans belonging to a few of the vegetarian girls that had refused to eat this morning. They weren't stupid. They knew if they refused to eat again, the slaves would just take the food away again and they'd get nothing. Still, most of the vegetarian slaves again refused to eat. Their pans were left empty again and the female slaves wheeled the carts away, leaving them to smell the food the others were eating.

The slaves again wheeled the carts into the entry room and past the girl hung on the frame. All she could do was watch the food go by and hang there helplessly. In the meantime, many of the girls in the dorms enjoyed their roast X-class, along with mashed potatoes and X-class gravy, and whole kernel corn.

The sisters didn't know how long it had been since they'd been locked in their cages when they heard the men coming down the hallway, but they figured it probably been a couple of hours at least. The girls had looked over their new bodies, each noting their new tattoos and sudden lack of hair. It was disconcerting and belittling enough to be locked in a dog cage naked and collared like a domesticated animal, but to add to that the outright humiliation of being shaved, head, eyebrows and pussy, by a strange woman, and then tattooed with a number that would, very likely, be their only source of identification from now on was completely demeaning. Each of the girls felt like they'd stepped completely out of reality.

Then they heard the men coming and reality came screaming back at them and slapped them in the face. A key in the lock told them that the men were likely coming for them and the girls knew very well what was going to happen to them next. They'd seen all the men; they'd even been groped and fondled by the majority of them. There were no illusions in either girl's mind about what they'd be doing for the rest of the night.

The door opened and in stepped the man that had been wearing khaki pants the night before; the one that had taken such delight in raping the younger girls' ass and then making her sister lick the cum and blood out of her butt hole. The girls shrank away from him as he approached the cages.

"Come on, kids," he said opening the cage doors. "It's time for you to be introduced to the fellas." He reached into the cages and took each girl by the collar and dragged them out of the cages and onto their bellies on the floor. He held the two down while he snapped tethers onto each of their collars. He held the free ends of the tethers in his hand, stood up and moved to the cabinet next to the entertainment stand. From it, he retrieved a thin, supple bamboo cane.

He struck both girls across the backs of their thighs, and snapped at them to get up. The cane stung like hell and the girls could barely get off the floor fast enough. As soon as they were on their feet, the man was leading them out of the room and down the hallway to the common area. The room was empty and the girls were left wondering where all the men were.

The man led them across the common are and down a hallway the girls had never been before. They passed several people along the way, both slaves and masters. Anytime they passed a slave in the hallway, the slaves would lower their eyes and give the man escorting the two girls wide berth.

Shortly, the girls began to hear voices, a lot of them. They were faint at first, but as the girls were drawn farther down the hallway, they got louder and louder. The man leading the girls suddenly stopped at a door just like many of the other doors along this hallway. It was on the other side of this door that all the voices were originating. The man opened the door and pulled the girls into the room behind him. Immediately all conversation stopped and seventy-nine pairs of eyes turned to regard the helpless, young pieces of flesh that were theirs for the rest of the evening. The man shut the door behind the girls, and with the sound of the latch settling into the recess in the strike-plate, the girls both knew their fates were sealed.

They each had about three seconds to look around the room before the man holding their tethers pushed them forward into the crowd of men. They were in a very large room, the only exit to which was the door through which they'd just been forced. Against the nearest wall, four long tables had been set up and were covered in food, beer, snacks and water. In the center of the room were four pieces of bondage apparatus: A stocks, an X-frame, a padded wooden bench, and a suspension harness hung from the ceiling. Along one of the walls were fastened several wrist and ankle shackles, presumably to hold slaves in place while other slaves were fitted into the furniture and used. And against another wall of the room were cabinets holding numerous implements of bondage and torture. The girls couldn't even identify all of them, there were so many.

Of course, three seconds later a firm hand on their backs pushed them into the room and into the hands of the nearest two men. The room went wild and the girls were lifted from their feet and each hoisted into a different bondage apparatus. The older girl was fitted into the stocks by two of the men while the younger girl was fastened into the padded bench. Once locked in the stocks, the older girl's pussy and ass were exposed to whoever wished to use them and she was totally helpless to prevent anything from happening to her. The base of the stocks looked like an H, with attachment points for ankle shackles at the height of each leg of the H. Before she knew it, her ankles were in leather ankle restraints and those restraints were being connected to the base of the stocks. Now, she couldn't close her legs even if she wanted to. She was totally at the mercy of these men.

Her sister wasn't doing much better. She'd been forced face-down onto the bench apparatus. The top, where she laid on her belly, was heavily padded and actually quite comfortable. Her knees fit onto two smaller padded surface to support her weight better. On each leg of the bench were attachment points for cuffs or restraints. The men were only too accommodating with the use of restraints. Soon, the younger sister's wrists and ankles were securely locked into leather restraints and fixed to the legs of the bench. Now, her ass, pussy and mouth were all at waist level for easy access, and her back, ass, thighs, arms, and feet were all exposed for the most sadistic and twisted of their intentions.

Before the older sister could even register what was happening, a man was behind her, pushing his hardened cock into her pussy. She cried out and tears sprang to her eyes as he penetrated her dry pussy. Two men stood on either side of the girl and beat her back and shoulders mercilessly while the man behind her continued to rape her pussy. The younger sister found herself in a similar situation as well. Two men, one in front and one behind were unfastening their pants while two others had approached from the side, each holding wicked-looking bamboo canes. While one man forced his penis into the girl's unwilling mouth, the man behind her began raping her young, dry pussy. The pain was extravagant until her pussy started working up its own lubrication, but that pain was nothing compared to the canes. The two men with canes immediately began abusing her exposed back and shoulders, swinging the canes viciously, each swing ending in a pronounced cracking sound against her soft, pale, young flesh.

In short order, the older sister was screaming and begging the men to stop. The younger sister was screaming as well, but the large cock in her mouth kept her mostly silent. The man brutally using her mouth didn't care as long as she didn't bite down. The screaming actually made the girl's mouth vibrate around his cock, adding to the experience. When the man raping the older sister's pussy was finished, another man immediately took his place. The new man's hard cock slipped right into her pussy with ease, but by now her pussy was lubricated with the previous man's cum and her own juice. The men raping the younger sister shot their loads into her mouth and pussy and four more men removed her from the bench so they could strap her into the suspension harness.

The harness was designed so the girl's wrists were restrained behind her back while her legs were spread and lifted, granting easy access between them. The harness, like the bench, hung at waist-level so a girl's mouth, ass and pussy were all easily accessible. As soon as the girl was strapped into the harness, the two men that had previously been caning her pushed their cocks into her mouth and pussy. Another man brutally beat her small, pert tits with one of the canes the men had dropped when pulling the girl off the bench. Soon, her sweet, pretty tits were covered in bright red, swollen welts from the wicked caning and she was swallowing another load of semen.

As soon as the cock was removed from her mouth, another one went in. This one was large, though. Looking up, she saw it was the larger black man from the night before. He was pushing his huge cock into her mouth and smiling down at her as he watched it slip between her stretched lips. The tip of his huge dick hit the back of her throat, making her gag suddenly. That didn't stop him, though. He kept pushing it into her, and soon her throat opened for him and he was able to shove his cock all the way down her throat so his big black balls rested against her nose. He knew the girl couldn't breathe while his cock was in her throat so he left it there while she gagged and tried to desperately gasp for air. While she was being suffocated by the huge cock in her mouth, the man raping her pussy finished inside her and the other black man from the previous night moved between her legs. The man rubbed his giant cock in the combination of cum, blood and pussy juice that was dribbling down the girls asshole, lubricating it effectively. The man shoved his black cock hard against the girls asshole and in it went, all in one stroke, right to the black hair. His balls slapped satisfyingly against her as the entire length of the monster disappeared into her tight, tiny asshole. The girl felt like she'd just been spitted and tried to scream out, but the cock in her throat kept her quiet. She still couldn't breathe and wanted to throw up, but the pain in her poor tight ass now took precedence over all other sensations.

The older sister had been pulled out of the stocks and pulled to the floor. She was forced to squat down on a man's penis, facing away from him. She saw two more men moving over her, each man's cock was hard and throbbing, seemingly eager to get inside her young body. The man on which she been made to squat pulled his cock out of her pussy. It was now coated in a slippery layer of pussy juice and cum. He forced her back down on his cock, but this time he slid it up her ass. She screamed out and tried to get herself off the huge member invading her rectum, but she was held fast. In short order, she was being pushed backward by another of the men and his cock was sliding into her pussy. She was now being double penetrated by two cocks at once. She'd never felt so fille din her life, or so much pain from the cock in her ass. It wasn't over, though. The third man grabbed her by the collar and pulled her mouth to his cock, too. Now she was being triple penetrated and all of her orifices were filled with man-meat. The man holding her head was using her mouth as a masturbation device, pumping her head up and down on his cock while the other two men roughly slammed their cocks in and out of her painfully.

The two black men were now both pounding their huge cocks in either end of the younger girl. The man working her mouth would pull his cock the entire length out of her mouth and she would gasp a quick breath before he shoved the length of it back down her throat again. She didn't have time to think about choking or gagging, because if she wasted time on that, she would lose her chance to breathe. All the while, she had to continue to try and ignore the pain ripping through her bowels as the other huge black cock tore through her like a battering ram.

So it went for the girls for the next several hours. After every man had a turn with one or the other of them, they were chained to a all and given water and a few scraps of food, just to give them the energy to keep going through another round with all the guys. Before it was all over, each girl was bleeding from her ass and pussy, their entire body, almost from head to toe were covered in welts from caning, flogging, and other forms of torture. The older girl had swallowed so much cum that she'd thrown up once after one of the men came down her throat. It didn't matter to the men. Her head was pushed into the pool of her own cum-filled vomit and the men continued to batter away at her pussy and ass.

By midnight, eight hours later, neither girl could stand. They had been so brutalized by the rapes and the beatings that they were too exhausted to even resist or move. If a cock appeared in front of one of their faces, they just opened their mouths and took it down their throats. If one of the girls was strapped into one of the apparatuses, she would use it to support herself as the man or men that had strapped her into the device took his pleasure of her.

The worst thing about the entire night were the things the men would have the sisters do to one another. They all stood around as the two sisters, on their hands and knees with a double-headed dildo in both their pussies and their anuses, moved back and forth rhythmically fucking one another for the amusement of the men. The sister were made to suck each others' tits and eat each others' pussies and asses while the men jeered and cheered. The whole thing was intensely degrading for the sisters, who had never imagined they could ever do such things to one another.

By two in the morning, the party wound down. The men had to be awake to catch a flight at ten, so they dispersed to go to their rooms and their beds. The girls were literally dragged by a man holding their collars from the larger torture chamber to their cages. The man shoved the two vomit, blood, and cum-covered girls into the cages and locked them in for the night. Each girl curled into as tiny a ball as they could and tried to ignore the pain throbbing from inside and outside of their bodies. All they wanted to do was sleep. If they lived through the night, the would consider waking in the morning a moral victory.

The mercenaries were all soon fast asleep, content with their reward and thoroughly satisfied from their uses of the two girls. The girls eventually feel into a fitful sleep that was interrupted by occasional cramps in their bowels or from the throbbing of the many welts adorning their pale skin.

Tomorrow had to be better than today , the older girl hoped. If it's not, then just let them kill us.

Josephine bade farewell to the slaves that had escorted here to her rooms. She turned from the door and was delighted to see the two naked slaves from her training this morning chained to the tethering bar she had installed in the floor of her sitting room.

"Hello, girls," Josephine said, entering the sitting room.

"Hello, Miss Hancock," the two naked girls said in unison. They were both kneeling on the floor in the proper kneeling position she'd shown them this morning. Their knees were spread just wide enough, their backs were straight, and their eyes were downcast, except when she spoke to them, and then they looked directly at her when responding.

Josephine crossed to a small liquor cabinet she'd set up in here so she could have a drink while she relaxed. She poured herself a glass of wine and placed the glass on a small table next to her favorite chair. She returned to the door and took a small key off a hook next to the door. She returned to the sitting room and used the key to open the locks on the ankle chains holding the girls to the tethering bar. Josephine took the ankle chains in her hand and started into the next room.

"Crawl and follow," she said without looking back to see if the girls obeyed. The two slaves immediately dropped to their hands and knees and followed Miss Hancock into the next room, crawling as they'd been taught to do earlier that morning.

Josephine had entered a stately-looking living room. She moved to a cabinet against one wall. Opening the cabinet revealed a plethora of bondage equipment and devices for spanking and torture. She selected a few items from the cabinet and then turned to the girl, who were obediently waiting on their hands and knees just a couple of feet behind Josephine. She buckled leather collars on each of their necks then had them stand and offer to her each of their limbs so she could strap locking leather restraints on their ankles and wrists without having to kneel in front of them to do so. Kneeling was for slaves, not for Josephine.

Josephine took a couple of more items from the cabinet, including a long, black strap-on dildo in a black leather harness and a leather riding crop similar to the one she'd had in the training room earlier today. The girls had not been told to kneel again, so they were standing where Josephine had left them. She closed the cabinet and began to leave the room. As she moved past the two girls, she said again, "Crawl and follow."

Josephine re-entered that sitting room and sat in her favorite chair. She took a sip of the glass of wine as the two girls crawled to their places before her. Josephine placed her wine glass back on the table and regarded the girls momentarily.

"Number one hundred ten, footstool," Josephine ordered. It took the tall slave with the dragon tattoos on her thighs a second to realize that Josephine had indicated her, but by number. The slave dropped to her hands and knees again, turned sideways and moved closer to Josephine, making sure to keep her back completely flat and her head down. Josephine snapped her riding crop down swiftly across the slave's shoulder blades. The slave quickly sucked in a deep breath between her teeth, but said nothing and did not break her position.

"Remember your number next time, one-ten," Josephine said in an annoyed tone.

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the slave said, but did not look at her. A footstool did not regard its Mistress, even when spoken to.

Josephine propped her feet on number one hundred ten's back and took another sip from her wine glass. She looked at the other slave and said, "Seventy-eight. Take off my boots."

The other girl nervously moved forward on her knees. She had not been taught how to remove boots and didn't know if there was a special trick to it or not.

She looked to Josephine and said, "Yes, Miss Hancock." Then added nervously, "But I have not been taught to remove your boots. Are there special instructions?"

Josephine was impressed. Maybe the chubby little slut had learned something from her already. She said to the girl, "Untie and loosen the laces, and then pull them off my feet."

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the chubby girl said. She reached out and began untying the laces of Josephine's right boot, she loosened the laces and slid the boot easily off of Josephine's foot. Josephine was again impressed. The girl had loosened the laces enough so the boot slipped right off. The girl repeated the process with the left boot, placing each boot upright on the floor beside her.

"Take the boots in your teeth and crawl to my closet," Josephine ordered. "It is through this door." She indicated the door through which they'd gone to get to the living room. "Once in the living room, go through the archway on the right-hand side of the room into my bedroom. The closet door is on the right wall of the bedroom. Leave the boots outside the door." She raised the girl's chin so she was looking her directly in the eyes. "Be gentle with my boots. Do not leave teeth marks on the leather and wipe your spit off of them before you return here."

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the girl said nervously looking into her Mistress' eyes. Josephine removed her toe from the girl's chin and the girl immediately took the boots in her teeth gently and crawled out of the room.

Josephine placed the toes of her right foot under the nose of the slave serving as her footstool. "Clean my toes," she said to the slave.

Without hesitation, the slave began to lick and suck at Josephine's toes, moving her tongue between each toe and underneath to ensure a thorough job was done. Josephine sipped at her wine while the slave sucked at her toes. Once the girl had finished, Josephine order her to turn around so she could clean the toes of her other foot with Josephine having to awkwardly stretch her left foot over to the slave's mouth. As the footstool was cleaning the toes of Josephine's left foot, the slave returned, crawling, from her duties with the boots.

"Come here, seventy-eight," Josephine ordered and indicated a place on the floor directly below the right armrest of the chair in which Josephine sat. the girl crawled to the spot that was indicated an knelt.

Josephine took one of the chubby girl's large breasts in her hands and began to fondle it. The slave shook somewhat at being fondled thus, but remembered that she should be pleasing in order not to get into trouble. She knelt still as the woman fondled and caressed her breast, then rolled and pinched the nipple slightly before moving her hand absently to the other breast and playing with it as well.

The footstool had finished her cleaning of Josephine's toes and Josephine had returned both of her feet to the girl's back. She sat, relaxed in her plush red leather chair, her feet propped on one slave and her right hand caressing another slave's large tits while she sipped her glass of wine slowly. This was just what she needed to relax. Some good, quality time with a couple of girls. Just the feel of the chubby slut's large, soft tits in her hand was making her hot. She was going to enjoy teaching this girl how to satisfy her. This sweet, shy, plump little cunt was probably going to be one of her favorite playthings.

Josephine placed her half-empty glass on the small table again and stood up. "One-ten, Take off my skirt," she commanded. The slave that had been serving as her footstool rose to her knees and unzipped Miss Hancock's skirt. Miss Hancock did not turn around, so the slave had to reach around her hips, her hands sliding over the soft leather of the skirt and Josephine's firm ass, to find the zipper of the skirt. The slave found the zipper and noticed quietly to herself that, as her hands had slid over Miss Hancock's ass, her breathing had become a little heavier. The slave slid the zipper down and then pulled the skirt off Miss Hancock's hips and down to her ankles. She was bare underneath and the removal of the skirt showed the naked slave on the floor in front of Josephine's hips the well-trimmed mons of Miss Hancock. Josephine insisted her slaves be totally shaved, but she like to leave a small strip of hair, trimmed quite short of course, just above her slit so that when a girl was going down on her the hair would tickle her nose and remind the usually-heterosexual girls she chose that they were, in fact, eating a woman's pussy.

Josephine stepped out of the skirt and the slave girl moved it to one side, leaving it on the floor near the chair. She looked down into the eyes of the slave at her feet and thought she saw that look in the slave's eyes again. What was it? She thought it was lust, but she wasn't completely sure. Josephine turned around and told the slave to stand and remove her shirt as well. The slave stood and, perhaps accidentally, rubbed her smallish breasts against Josephine's ass as she gained her feet. Josephine's breath caught slightly, but hopefully not enough for the slaves to notice.

The slave reached around Josephine, who had intentionally turned around so the buttons of her shirt would be on the opposite side from the slaves, and reached for the first of the buttons. As she slid her hands around Josephine's chest, the slave cupped her breasts slightly and then released them before taking the button in her fingers and opening it. The slave was flirting with her! Josephine was suddenly ver aware that the gentle, accidental touches from the slave were not accidents at all, but deliberate caresses designed to arouse Josephine. She had to admit she liked it, though. Soon, the slave had unbuttoned the shirt and slipped it off of Josephine's shoulders, placing it on the floor with the skirt.

"Seventy-eight. Take the skirt and shirt to my room," Josephine commanded as she turned back around and sat down again. "Leave them on the bed and return here."

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the chubby girl said. She again dropped to her hands and knees, took the shirt and skirt in her teeth and disappeared from the room.

"On your knees," Josephine said to the tall woman standing before her. As the woman dropped to her knees in front of Josephine obediently, Josephine swung her right leg over the right armrest of the chair, partially exposing her slit to the slave in front of her. She caught the slave glancing quickly to admire the slit in front of her. Josephine smiled inwardly. She thought she knew what the look in the slave's eyes was now.

Josephine leaned forward and took the slave by the ring at the front of her collar. She pulled the slave's face to hers and kissed her. She slipped her tongue past the woman's lips and the two women's tongues played together for a long moment. Josephine kept kissing the slave even after the other slave returned from the bedroom. Josephine watched as the other slave crawled into the room. She saw Josephine locked in a very passionate kiss with the slave on the floor in front of her. The girl looked slightly stunned for a moment, but crawled into the room and took her former place alongside the chair.

Josephine relaxed back into her chair. She moved her left leg up to the left armrest and pulled the dragon-tattooed slave's face down between her legs. The slave began to lick at Josephine's labia at once, but was definitely teasing Josephine, too, rather than just going straight to the clit and providing her with the orgasm most slaves assume they are there to provide. She released the slave's collar, allowing her to do her work. She moaned and reached out with her right hand and took the other slave by the collar and pulled her to her face as well. Josephine kissed the startled girl, who was very obviously shocked and had likely never even though about kissing a woman, let along actually doing it. After a second or two, though, the girl seemed to relax and let it happen, letting Josephine's tongue intertwine with hers.

The girl was fast finding herself being turned on by the situation in which she found herself. She'd never, ever done any of this before. In fact, she'd never even considered sex with a woman before. Well, that wasn't entirely true, now was it? She'd found herself wondering what it would be like to be noticed by some of the older, more experienced women at work. She often wondered what it would be like if the woman sitting next to her on the plane or the bus had turned to her and suddenly kissed her. Now she was experiencing her fantasies in a situation and setting which, by all accounts, should have scared the hell out of her, but instead she found herself more at ease with the idea of a woman kissing her than she'd ever been before. Perhaps it was because she felt she had no choice in the matter, or that she wanted to be pleasing in order to survive, but that didn't seem to be the case. Not really, anyway. She liked what was being done to her. She's always been shy and repressed and her family was always so closed about sex and sexuality. She was fat and she knew it, and was ashamed of her body, especially that big birthmark on her pubic area. She hated that thing, but didn't want to go through the embarrassment or expense of having it removed. She was willing to give herself to this woman for whatever the woman wanted her to do. She was willing and she would enjoy it as it happened.

Josephine pulled her mouth away from the chubby slut's mouth and noticed the girl's eyes were still half-closed and her mouth was partly open. The lust was obvious on the girl's face. Se didn't want Josephine to stop kissing her. She wanted more and would do whatever it took to get it. Josephine pulled the girl's face to her breast and brushed the girl's lips with her right nipple. The girl opened her mouth immediately and took the hard knot of skin and tissue into her mouth. She sucked Josephine's nipple and licked it with her tongue and kissed it softly. Josephine moaned in heightened pleasure as one girl licked playfully at her pussy while the other lovingly caressed her nipple. She was in heaven. She loved being serviced this way.

The girl between her legs slid a finger into Josephine's dripping pussy. She wasn't sure if this was allowed or not, but Miss Hancock was in such a state, the girl doubted she would mind. As she slid her finger into Miss Hancock's pussy, the woman groaned loudly and spread her legs wider, opening herself for the slave's penetration. Now the slave started sucking on Miss Hancock's clit and fingering her wet pussy at the same time. As she did, Miss Hancock writhed in the chair. She clutched at the back of the tall slave's head with her empty hand, trying to push the slave harder against her pussy.

Josephine again pulled the girl at her nipple to her mouth and kissed her deeply. The girl moaned into her mouth and moved her hand to Josephine's nipple, caressing it as they kissed. The girl between Miss Hancock's legs was driving her wild, but the slave kissing her now knew she also had a part in her arousal. Her desire to please Miss Hancock drove her further, and the girl wanted to do as much as possible to please her. So, when Miss Hancock had pulled her back to her lips, she kissed her as well as she knew how and reached up to fondled her untended breast.

Josephine orgasmed hard under the ministrations of the two slaves. She moaned into the mouth of the slave kissing her as the one between her legs drove her over the brink of orgasm. She pulled the girl from between her legs to her face using the girl's collar. She kissed the girl deeply, releasing the other girl's mouth from hers and forcefully kissing the mouth of the girl that had been servicing her pussy. She could taste her pussy in the girl's mouth and smell her juices on the girl's face. She didn't care. She liked the taste and smell of pussy, her's most of all. Josephine finished kissing the girl that had been doing such a lovely job of eating her pussy and turned to the other girl, the chubby slut with the nice, fat tits.

"Would you like to learn to eat pussy, seventy-eight?" Josephine asked, looking into the girl's eyes.

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the girl said quietly, and then added, even more quietly, "Please."

"Certainly," Miss Hancock said, and then, turning to the other girl, said in her commanding voice. "You. One the floor on your back."

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the tall girl said. She slid off of Josephine's lap and down to the floor, lying on her back, her legs spread and knees bent in anticipation of what was to come next.

"Seventy-eight," Miss Hancock said. "You may join one-ten on the floor and you may begin eating her pussy. She is going to instruct you to show you some techniques, so listen to her and do as she says. If she is not pleased with your performance, then I always have this." She picked up the riding crop from where she leaned it against the small table near her chair. She stroked the girl's cheek with the leather tip of the crop.

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the plump girl said shyly. "I will do my best."

"See that you do," Josephine said and released the girl's collar.

The girl slipped to the floor and crawled between the other girl's tattooed thighs. Unsure of what to do first, she gently kissed the girls bare mons. The girl moaned quietly and told her that was a good way to start. The slave smiled and kissed the insides of the tattooed girl's thighs, starting a few inches above the apex of the thigh and kissing downward to the girl's labia, and then moving to the other thigh and repeating the process. The girl moaned and squirmed under the gentle kisses. The plump girl began kissing the tattooed girl's labia and mons and circling her labia with her tongue. The tattooed girl moaned again, this time more deeply in her throat. The plump girl began to lap at her slit like a cat lapping at a bowl of milk. The tattooed girl stopped her and told her that was not a good action. She told her to instead press her mouth to her labia and use her tongue to feel for the nub of the clit. The plump girl did as she was told; the tattooed slave had quite a large clit, so it was east for the other girl to find it with her tongue. The tattooed girl told her she was in the right spot now, and then told her to continue licking the clit, but also to suck on it lightly and nibble it gently. The plump girl complied quickly and began alternating between licking the tattooed girl's clit and sucking it. Soon enough, the tattooed girl's hips were bucking and she was moaning and had her hands on the back of the plump girl's head, trying to force her clit harder against the girl's tongue. In just a few moments the tattooed girl threw her head back in orgasm and moaned loudly, bucking her hips against the plump girl's face. The plump girl's face was becoming covered in pussy juice from the tattooed girl's wild bucking. After the tattooed girl calmed somewhat, she sat up and licked all of her juices off the plump girl's face, knowing fully that she had just coated the girl's mouth and nose in sticky pussy cum.

"How was she?" Josephine asked the tattooed girl.

"You should keep her, Miss Hancock," the tattooed girl said. "I think she's a natural."

The plump girl blushed furiously and lowered her eyes to the floor. The tattooed girl lifted the plump girl's face in her hands and kissed her deeply. Both girls smiled as they finished kissing. The plump girl felt really good to know she was good at this. She'd always wondered if her fantasies would come true, and now that they had, she was happy that she'd performed up to standards for the girl she was pleasing.

"You think so, do you?" Josephine said with a raised eyebrow. "Let me see." She put her legs over the armrests of her chair again, indicating that the plump girl should come demonstrate her techniques on Josephine's pussy.

The plump girl crawled before Josephine's chair and knelt up so she could reach her mistress' pussy with her face. She began as she had with the tattooed girl and kissed Josephine's mound. Something about that action was very pleasant to Josephine. She'd have to make sure to have this girl include it in all her pussy eating sessions, of which there were certain to be many. The girl kissed Josephine's thighs and brought her mouth to her pussy, licking and kissing Josephine's labia lightly and gently before finally placing her lips against Josephine's slit and seeking out her mistress' clit with her tongue. Josephine was moving her hips in time with the girl's licking and sucking in no time. This girl was really good at this. Josephine wondered if she had some repressed bisexual fantasies that she'd never gotten to experience. Usually girls that had never eaten pussy before that were good at it were good because they'd visualized the activity many times before. In only a few moments, the girl's tongue and mouth had elicited an orgasm from Josephine.

Josephine was highly impressed. She'd met some good rookies in her days, but she couldn't remember many as good as this one.

"Are you a lesbian?" Josephine asked the plump girl.

The girl looked momentarily shocked. "No, Miss Hancock," she sputtered, somewhat aghast at the question.

"Have you ever eaten a woman's pussy before?" asked Josephine, pressing the girl despite her discomfort.

"No, Miss Hancock," the girl said and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"You look at me when I am speaking to you, slut," Josephine warned. The girl immediately returned her eyes to Josephine's. "You've had fantasies about having sex with women, though, haven't you?"

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the girl said quietly. She almost looked at the floor again, but caught herself and held her gaze steady. "Mostly with women I know from work or that I see on the bus."

"Ah. I see," said Miss Hancock. "And what do you fantasize about when you think of these women?"

The girl kept her eyes locked on Miss Hancock's despite her immediate desire to lower them, because of her embarrassment. She was still furiously blushing, but she was doing her best under the circumstances.

"I usually picture myself serving their needs, Miss Hancock," the girl began. "I am usually made to pleasure them. Sometimes I am taken by force against my will and other times the fantasies are softer and more loving."

"Which ones do you like the best?" Josephine asked, thinking she probably already knew the answer. "The forceful fantasies or the softer ones?"

If it was possible, the girl blushed even more and said, "The forceful ones, Miss Hancock. I enjoy the idea of being dominated and controlled by the women in my fantasies."

Josephine raised an eyebrow and said, "Do you now? And what about men? Do you have fantasies about being dominated and controlled by them as well?"

"No, Miss Hancock," she said, looking into her mistress' eyes. "I very rarely have fantasies about men, and usually when I do have them, they are not overly sexual ones."

"So, you find yourself more attracted to women, then, do you?" Josephine asked, settling back into her chair and smiling slightly.

"Yes, Miss Hancock," the girl said, still blushing. "I guess I do."

"Then I believe, at heart, you are probably a lesbian," Miss Hancock said plainly. "If women are the ones you feel most naturally attracted to and are the ones you fantasize the most about having sex, then you probably have lesbian tendencies. You might just not have known."

The girl was shocked. She couldn't speak. Could it be true? She asked herself. Could I really have been a lesbian the whole time? That would explain a lot.

Josephine smiled at the girl and said, "I've seen that look before. That's the look of a girl that's thinking, 'that would explain why I've felt like this.' It's true, though. You've probably never enjoyed sex with men very much and never really felt much of a connection with men. You've probably always been more at ease with girls and women, and your fantasies tell me that you've been more at ease thinking of women in a more dominating role."

The girl said nothing, but her jaw dropped open.

"You've probably been told all your life that you were going to meet a nice boy, get married and have kids," Josephine continued. "But you never really wanted that, did you? You wanted to meet a nice girl, be told what to do, and get treated like a slut."

When the girl could speak again, she said, "That's exactly it. How did you know?"

"Because I was that girl once," Josephine said. The girl was again visibly stunned.

Josephine turned to the tattooed slave still lying on the floor, but regarding the two other women and listening to the conversation.

"And what about you?" Josephine asked.

The girl moved from her lying position and knelt as a sign of respect to Josephine.

"I have been waiting my entire life for this exact thing to happen," she said. "I have always wanted to be kidnaped, turned into a slave and made to serve against my will."

"Really?" Josephine asked with interest. "Do go on."

"I've spent most of my life in BDSM communities both on the internet and offline, but none of the people I ever met were strict enough or serious enough or would truly take charge of me. I have always felt I was nothing more than a slave, but I never could find someone to being that out in me. I was just moving from one disappointing relationship to the next, and I never really ever felt satisfied by any of them."

Josephine raised her eyebrows. This was a surprise.

"When we were kidnaped from that convention, I was scared," the woman said. "I was scared until I realized that we were not being held for ransom, but were instead being taken as slaves. Until now, I'd only read stories about people that did this sort of thing, but I'd always wished it would happen to me so I could finally find a satisfying place for myself. As strange as it might sound, I think this could very well be that place."

Josephine leaned forward and looked the tattooed girl right in the yes and said, very seriously, "Then you had better be the most pleasing slave you can be, girl. To survive here, you have to be very good."

The slave gulped and said, "Yes, Miss Hancock. I do truly hope to be very good. I know that if I am not, then I will be killed for my failings." She looked away, then remembered her training and immediately looked back to Josephine. "I think that is what will make me an even better slave."

Josephine was a little awed. First, this was the first time she'd seen this girl look or sound shy. Second, she did not expect to meet anyone that actually wanted to be here. Josephine figured that taming every slave and making them quality servants for the Estate was going to be a constant fight, but here was a girl that actually wanted to be here. Even more amazing was the fact that she wasn't afraid to die, but rather would strive to be more pleasing to be a better slave. This seemed like a unique characteristic to Josephine, but she supposed more of them could feel this way. There was probably no way she'd ever know for sure. She'd never be able to sit down with al of them and talk to them on a one-to-one basis like she was speaking to these girls now. Still, it didn't really matter. The stand-outs would stand out, and the ones that couldn't deal with their places here would die. Life at the Estate was that simple.

That actually made Josephine feel a little better about what had happened earlier. She knew there was nothing that could have been done for those men. They were going to die here anyway, because they'd never allow themselves to be mad into slaves against their wills. They just died sooner than was expected. Maybe it was better that it was sooner rather than later. At least now it was over with and they could go about replacing the men they'd lost. She was still a little upset that it had to happen under her care. Regardless of what Jonathan Clark said, she felt there still might be some that viewed her inability to maintain order as a failure.

She regarded her slaves again. She was glad she'd gotten to know them a little better. It would not affect her decision if one of them had to be killed in the future, but did let her see them in a different light. She was also glad that she felt better about what had happened earlier. She knew that repercussions were unlikely to result from the situation, but she still hated to lose control like that. It didn't matter to her if she truly lost face in the eyes of the others; it mattered more to her that she'd lost control of that situation. Of course, there was no controlling that situation. That group of men wasn't going to allow it, no matter what. Josephine accepted it and decided it was time to move on with things. Now, it was time for her to fuck her sluts.

"Both of you. On your hand and knees with your asses facing away from me right now," Josephine commanded, standing. "Move forward a couple of feet as well, away from my chair." The girls at once did as they were told, instinctively feeling that talking time was over and it was time to get down to more serious business again.

The two slaves were on their hands and knees with their asses presented to Josephine as she stepped into the leather harness of that held her strap-on dildo. Once in the harness, she picked up her crop and moved to stand behind the two girls. She used the tip of the crop to massage that tattooed girl's asshole and slit, and as she did so, the girl moaned softly and lifted her ass higher for Josephine, exposing more of herself to the crop. Josephine slipped the tip of the crop into the tattooed girl's already wet pussy and began to move it inside her, causing the girl to moan even more and to begin to move her hips in rhythm to the movements of Josephine's riding crop.

When she felt the slave was sufficiently aroused, she go to her knees behind the girl. She tapped the insides of the girl's thigh with the crop, indicating that the girl should open her legs wider. The slave responded, allowing Josephine better access to the slave's wet pussy. Josephine rubbed the head of the dildo against the slave's slit, lubricating it, and then slid the entire length of it smoothly into the girl. The slave moaned loudly and shuddered with an instantaneous orgasm from Josephine's penetration, couple with her state of readiness.

Josephine didn't mind the girl cumming right away. She was till going to use the girl as she saw fit, and she knew very well that the slave would wind up cumming several more times before Josephine was finished with her anyway. So, Josephine began moving her hips back and forth, sliding the ridged black dildo in and out of the girl. The girl at once began moving her hips back against Josephine, matching her motions. In just a few short moments, the room was filled with the wet sounds of sex as Josephine had her way with the tattooed slave from behind. As she fucked the tall woman, she reached over to the other girl and began fingering her pussy. Soon, she too was wet and ready for sex.

Josephine pulled the dildo from the tattooed slave's pussy and moved behind the plump girl. The tattooed girl groaned as the dildo was taken out of her, but Josephine reached behind the girl and administered a stinging slap to her pussy that shut her right up. Josephine pushed the dildo into the plump girl's cunt and began to fuck her as she had been fucking the tattooed girl before. The plump girl moaned loudly and bucked her hips against Josephine's dildo. Josephine smiled at her little lesbian cunt and fucked her even harder.

She reached behind the tattooed slave and pushed two fingers into the girl's pussy and finger-fucked her while she pushed the dildo in and out of the plump girl's pussy. Soon, both girls were bucking and moaning for Josephine. The plump girl came in a loud, moaning shudder, but Josephine didn't stop pumping her pussy. She worked the dildo in and out of the plump cunt just to hear the little bitch moan for her. While she fingered the other girl's cunt, she also slipped her thumb up the girl's ass. The tattooed slut immediately came again, much to Josephine's pleasure. It seemed like the tattooed girl was going to be a cum machine, which was a good thing, especially if Josephine was going to be using her. She liked to wear out her pussies. She liked to fuck, fist and whip her slaves until they were totally used up, and then to do it some more while they were nearly too exhausted to move.

Josephine slid another finger into the tattooed slave's pussy, bringing the total count now to three. She continued to pump the plump girl's pussy at the same time as well. She picked up the crop that she'd let fell to the side and began to flick the plump girl's big, round tits with the tip of it. This brought little yelps out of the girl's mouth, which made Josephine's pussy start to twitch.

Before long, Josephine was fisting the tattooed girl's cunt and whipping the plump girl's back hard with the crop. Both of the girls were screaming, the tattooed girl in pleasure at being so filled, and the plump girl in a mixture of pleasure and pain that was making Josephine's pussy drip into her leather harness. Josephine pulled her hand out of the tattooed girl's cunt and shoved the dildo into it. She then began fucking the tattooed slut's pussy while continuing to beat the plump girl's lovely round ass. With every thrust of the dildo, the tattooed girl was moaning loudly and with every snap of the crop, the plump girl cried out. Despite her cries, though, the plump girl still arched her ass outward, presenting it for Josephine to whip as she desired.

With the hand covered in the slippery juice from the tattooed girl's pussy, Josephine slid two of her fingers into the tattooed girl's asshole while she continued to fuck the girl's pussy. The girl cried out and came again as she was doubly penetrated. Josephine managed to work in another finger, stretching th girl's ass wider, She stopped beating the other girl in order to better concentrate on her work, but she told the plump girl to turn over and slide under the tattooed girl in order to fondle and suck her breasts and nipples. In no time, the head of the plump girl disappeared under the chest of the tattooed girl and the tattooed girl's moans and pants became even louder and more frantic.

A fourth finger went into the tattooed girl's ass, opening her wide for Josephine's pleasure. The girl was no longer just moaning, she was screaming at every thrust of the dildo and every movement of Josephine's fingers. Josephine could feel the dildo moving in the girl's pussy through the tissue lining between her ass and pussy. That really got Josephine hot, too. She pushed her hand farther into the girl's asshole, causing her to cry out even louder. Josephine's knuckles disappeared into the girl's stretched asshole, causing the girl to cry out again. This was starting to really drive Josephine wild. All she had to do now was slip the thumb in and she'd be fully fisting this slave's ass, and that was a good thing.

She curled her thumb under her palm and pushed it against the girl's asshole. She paused for a moment to speak to the girl.

"I'm going to put my whole hand in your ass, girl," she said, almost panting. "Do you understand that?"

The girl couldn't speak, but Josephine saw her nod emphatically.

"Good," Josephine said. "If it's too much for you, then say stop."

The girl nodded again, but also said, "Please do it, mistress. Don't stop."

Josephine wasn't going to argue. The slave wanted a fist in her ass, Josephine wanted to fist the slave's ass, so the slave was going to get a fist in her ass. She pushed her thumb in past the ring of the girl's anus, bringing another cry from the girl, and then she pushed hard into the girl and her hand slipped all the way into her in one fluid motion.

The girl immediately stiffened and was deadly silent. Her entire body had frozen in a shaking, tense paralysis. Her head had snapped back when Josephine's fist had disappeared into her ass and her mouth had dropped open, but no sounds were coming out. The girl's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she wasn't breathing.

Finally, after several long seconds, her body let go and she could move again and breathe again. She'd just experienced the most intense orgasm she'd ever had in her life and it had completely shut her entire body down. She now was wobbling on shaky arms and legs, her body drained of energy. That wasn't stopping Josephine, though. As soon as the girl started breathing again, she started moving her dildo and hand in simultaneous thrusts into the girl. Almost at once the girl began to cry out again, though not as loudly as before. The sensations pouring into her body from both of the penetrated orifices were sending waves of what felt like electrical energy through her body. Her arms and legs wouldn't support her any longer, but she didn't want to collapse on top of the other girl. She tried to speak as best as she could.

"I can't hold myself up," the girl said in a ragged voice in between thrusts.

Josephine told the plump girl to move out from under that tattooed girl, which she did at once. As soon as the plump girl was out of the way, the tattooed girl feel forward onto her belly. That still wasn't going to stop Josephine. She continued to thrust into the girl. Her hips pushing the dildo in and out of her pussy and her hand thrust in and out of the girl's ass, past the wrist at the deepest. The girl couldn't stop cumming. Every time Miss Hancock drove her fist into her ass, she'd cum again. Her head and feet and hands were all tingling as if she was really drunk, and all other sensation had disappeared except for Miss Hancock's penetrations of her pussy and ass. All she could do was to lie there limply and moan weakly as each orgasm pounded her with wave after wave of sexual energy.

Josephine could see the slave was spent, but she didn't want to stop. She was enjoying fucking and fisting the slave into nearly total unconsciousness, but she did have another toy to play with. One that was going to service her while she inflicted immense amounts of pain. As much as she had been looking forward to fisting the tattooed girl's ass and wearing her out completely, she was looking forward to being serviced by the plump little cunt.

She pulled her hand out of the tattooed girls ass; it made a wet sucking sound as she did. The girl moaned again weakly as her ass was suddenly left very empty. Josephine's hand was covered in streaks and blobs of the girls' shit, but she didn't care about that. It came of with soap and water or, in different circumstances, a tongue. She also pulled the dildo out of the girl's pussy. She could see it was red, puffy and swollen from the use laid upon it. This made Josephine smile as she got to her feet and walked to the bathroom to wash up.

The two slaves were left alone in the sitting room for a few moments. The tattooed girl could do little more than lie where she'd collapsed and drool on the rug. The plump girl was stroking her back and kissing her shoulder, offering her comfort.

"Did you like it?" the plump girl asked.

"Oh fuck," the tattooed girl said. "It was amazing. Absolutely incredible."

"It sure looked like it," the plump girl said enthusiastically. "For a second there, I thought you'd died."

"Yeah," the tattooed girl said. "Me, too." She managed a weak chuckle.

"Seventy-eight! On the floor on your back with your legs spread and knees bent now," Josephine commanded as she re-entered the room. She was carrying with her a set of nipple clamps, two pairs of shackles, and a clit clip.

The plump girl immediately assumed the position Miss Hancock requested of her, lying flat on her back with her legs spread and her knees up. Josephine crossed the room to her and knelt over her she closed one metal cuff of the shackle over each of the plump girl's wrists, and then closed the other cuff of each shackle around her ankles, making it impossible for the girl to straighten her legs or use her hands to guard herself. Josephine applied the tight nipple clamps to the slave, causing her to suck in a deep breath through her teeth at the sudden pain. Then Josephine fitted the clip onto the girl's clit. This caused her to wince with pain, but it also caused her pussy to come awake again.

Josephine retrieved the crop from the floor where she'd left it and straddled the plump girl's face. With a stinging slap to the girl's shaven pussy, she ordered, "Eat my pussy, slut."

The plump girl knew this was not the time for pleasantries, so she forgot about kissing and soft tongue caresses and went straight for the clit. She sucked Miss Hancock's clit into her mouth and began licking at it fervently. Josephine, feeling the sweet sensation of girl-tongue on her stiff clit, glided on the wings of the stimulus and began lightly slapping the insides of the girl's thighs with the riding crop. This caused some muted whimpers from the girl, but she kept sucking Josephine's clit and rubbing it with her tongue. As Josephine became more turned on, her hips rocked more and more on the girl's face and her strikes with the crop became harder and harder.

The girl was crying underneath her after fifteen minutes of steady cropping and Josephine's cum was dripping all over the girl's face. Still, she insisted the girl eat her pussy and continued to whip her with the crop. In a few more moments, Josephine had cum again and the girl's legs and bare mons were bright red and welted.

Josephine got up and walked out of the room, saying, "Don't move."

In a moment, she returned carrying a new dildo with her. This one looked like a strap-on, but the harness didn't look like it fit over the hips. The purpose of this dildo was obvious in just a few seconds as Josephine knelt next tot he girl and placed the harness over the girl's face. There was a soft rubber ball behind the dildo that fit into the slave's mouth so she could hold the dildo straight with her teeth. The bound girl laying on her back now had a seven inch long black latex cock protruding from her mouth and pointing straight toward the ceiling of the room.

Josephine again straddled the girl's face and squatted down on the large latex cock. She moaned as the thing penetrated her still hungry pussy. She began to ride the girl in earnest now, squishing her hips moistly down on the dildo with every down stroke. Because of the way she was kneeling over the girl, she wasn't going to hurt her, but she could now fuck the girl's face and whip her at the same time without having to worry about the girl biting down on her clit. The rubber ball that let the girl hold the dildo also served as a gag, so even if Josephine chose to strike the girl as hard as she could, the girl could not cry out and interrupt Josephine's rhythm as she could if Josephine relied on the girl to use solely her tongue to please her.

Strangely enough, gags weren't very popular at the Estate. Most of the sadistic denizens of the Estate enjoyed hearing the screams of their slaves and so rarely ever used gags. When gags were used, they were typically done for speech restriction and not for silencing cries of pain. In the case of the gag Josephine was using on the plump girl, it was necessary for functionality.

Josephine quickly got into a rhythm of fucking the girl's face and whipping her exposed thighs and pussy. Anytime the girl would try to close her legs, Josephine would lean back somewhat so her ass covered the girl's nose and her air supply was cut off. It didn't take the girl long to figure out not to close her legs. Josephine came twice, hard, and still she wouldn't get off the girl. She was in a sadistic frenzy and she wanted this girl to know what being her slave would truly be like.

She commanded the tattooed girl up from the floor and told her to lie between the plump girl's legs and hold her cunt lips open so she could use the crop directly on her clit. The plump girl heard this order given and tried to protest from behind the gag, but Josephine again sat back on her face and rendered her unable to breathe. The girl was silent almost immediately. She understood that whatever Miss Hancock wanted, Miss Hancock was going to get. The plump girl resolved herself to her torture for the pleasures of Miss Hancock.

In no time, Josephine was whipping the girl's clit hard and listening to the girl's screams from behind the rubber gag. It drove Josephine wild and she came twice more, even harder than before. She'd decided she'd finally had enough and moved off the girl, whose face was covered in Josephine's cum by now. The tattooed girl was ordered to lap up the cum while Josephine removed the clit clip, nipple clamps, and the shackles. The tattooed girl worked her tongue fervently over every inch of the plump girl's face, licking up all of Miss Hancock's sweet pussy juice. She also cleaned off the harness and the dildo as well, under Josephine's instructions.

The plump girl's pussy was a swollen mess. Her mons was red, her labia were red, and even her inner labia and clit were red and swollen. Her thighs were covered in red, stinging welts as well. When the gag was removed form her mouth, she was still crying hard and tears were rolling down her cheeks and into her ears. Josephine kissed the girl tenderly and told her she'd done very well. The girl managed a smile at even those small words of praise from her mistress.

Josephine ordered the girls to crawl behind her as she went into the bathroom. She used the toilet and got into the shower. The girls were not allowed to use her toilet, but Josephine did allow each one to squat over the shower drain and relieve themselves of their urine. Josephine ordered the girls to wash her body and hair, and then to dry her after her shower. She led the girls back into the bedroom where she placed her boots into her closet and fetched a robe to cover herself. In just a few moments, Josephine had gone from nude, dominatrix goddess to almost-motherly-looking woman in a bathrobe with her hair in a towel drying. She led the girls back into the sitting room and cuffed them again to the tethering bar by the same ankle chains they'd worn when they'd been left here. She hung the key back on the hook by the door and then went into her kitchen. She called for a work slave to come fetch the girls, and then began to make herself a cup of coffee. She finished making her coffee, went into the living room and began watching television. She heard the work slave come in and remove the girls from her rooms.

After the door closed, she went back into the kitchen and made another call from her phone.

"I want priority use of numbers seventy-eight and one hundred ten before all other members," she said into the telephone. She waited for a few seconds for her request to be confirmed, and then she said, "Good."

She crossed back into the living room and sat again on her sofa to watch a television program. She smiled to herself, knowing that she could now have those two anytime she wanted them. She had a feeling those girls were going to become fixtures here in her rooms and that her pleasures and their tortures would last for a long time to come.

At 6:45PM, the doors to the female side of the dark rooms were flung open and the women were dragged out of the cells by a team of sixteen work slaves. The slaves tore the women from the cells, cattle prodded them heavily and herded the women, screaming, into a small room down a long hallway. Once all the women were driven into the room, another crew of work slaves took hold of them and pushed them to the floor and tied their wrists and ankles in an uncomfortable hogtie.

The room was smallish, only about ten feet on a side. Once the women were lined up on the floor, side by side, their arms and shoulders were overlapping because the room wasn't large enough to hold eight women side by side. The top half of one wall of the room was a two-way mirror. The side of the mirror that faced the women was the reflective side, allowing whoever was in the room on the other side of the mirror to see into the room in which the women were being held, but not allowing the women to see who was in the room beyond the mirror. The only other thing in the room, besides the group of work slaves that were now leaving the room was an odd device.

The device stood on a metal pole about three feet high and a foot wide. It looked as if it was shaped for a person to lie in the device face down. There were contours to hold the legs of a person, and two appendages that stuck out from the sides of the metal device, presumably to hold the arms of a person. There was a small curve at one end of the device that, if a person's head were placed at that end of the device, would allow free and unobstructed movement of that person's neck. Just below the curve for the neck, one a flat piece of metal, which one could assume is where a human torso would lie, two holes were cut that were large enough to let female breasts depend through them. The device, to put it simply, was designed to hold a person face down and allow access to any of that person's body. A person strapped into the device could have their feet and sides tickled, their back, ass, shoulders, thighs, calves and arms flogged, or their mouth, ass, pussy or cock used sexually. A female's breasts would dangle through the holes in the flat piece of metal so they, too, could be tortured or used for sexual purposes. For this particular event, though, the device would hold women while they were raped.

The work slaves that had fetched the women now returned to fetch one of the men. The man was taken to the room on the opposite side of the two-way mirror from the women. The man was then strapped to an X-frame and forced to watch helplessly the events that unfolded in the room beyond.

Robert Carlyle stood in the room which overlooked the small room in which the women were being held. As a man was brought into the room and strapped into the frame, he identified the wife of the man strapped to the frame as the appropriate woman to be placed into the device. The work slaves would then enter the room holding the women, untie the correct woman, and then strap her into the device. Then, as the man strapped into the frame in the viewing room watched, four men would enter the room and beat and rape his wife. The man, of course, could do nothing except struggle on the frame, watch, and yell at the window. The room was soundproofed so the man could yell all he wanted, but his wife would not hear him.

After the men finished beating and raping the woman, she was taken off the device and carried away by work slaves to the dorms to be housed. The men that had raped the woman would then enter the room and drag the man off the frame, beat him with their fists or with whips until he could no longer resist, and then they would drag the semi-conscious man to his next destination: The changing room.

This process was repeated six more times. Each wife was raped and beaten by a different team of men, then taken away and housed. Afterward, the man was then beaten almost unconscious and taken away by the same men that had raped his wife to the changing room. The woman whose husband had failed to show at the party was not immune, either. Despite the fact that her husband could not be in attendance, the woman was raped and beaten and then taken away and housed.

Robert Carlyle watched the whole process smiling the entire time. He stood in the viewing room and listened to the men cry out for their wives and curse him to hell. Carlyle smiled and smoked cigarettes the entire time. The insults and brutalization of both the men and women only amused him further.

Once the process was over, Carlyle walked down the hall to the changing room to check on the men. By the time he arrived, they had all been dressed in black French maid's outfit, complete with stockings and garters. Each man had been given a healthy dose of tranquilizers to keep him calm and easily open to suggestion. For the next three months, these men would be give daily doses of estrogen and progesterone to increase the 'womanly' features. Eventually, they would develop breasts, curvy hips and a higher, more effeminate voice. Also, their cocks could begin to shrink and their testicles would shrivel into near-nothingness. In addition to the hormone therapies, the men would also undergo daily subliminal suggestions and be continuously referred to as women, by female names, and have the idea that they are actual women enforced upon them by members of the Estate with degrees in psychology and neurology, of which, oddly, there were actually quite a few.

When the process of effeminating and brainwashing the men was complete, they would be formally trained as slaves and then they would serve the male volunteers and members of the Estate as sex slaves and fuck toys. Thus was their life until they outlived their usefulness. The women would simply be placed into the next day's training classes and would be made into slaves for the amusement of all the members. Either that or they would resist and be executed forthwith. Robert Carlyle had already signed orders letting all the members of the Estate know that these particular women were expendable, but that their husbands should be kept unless they proved to not accept the psychological and hormonal therapies. He would personally enjoy jerking his cum into the mouths and faces of some of these sons of bitches that had tried to backstab him on their way to the top of the corporate ladder or tried to keep him from climbing the ladder to the top of Herbert Warner Industries. Now he controlled the company and these men. His revenge was complete.

Dinner was served late in the dorms because of the training schedule, but when it was brought in at 8:00PM, less of the stubborn slaves refused to eat than this morning or at lunch. Slowly but surely, their hunger was getting the best of them. In another day or so, they would all have partaken of their share of freshly killed and cooked slave meat.

The slaves were fed at eight and by ten when lights out came, most of them were ready for sleep. The training session had been hard on some of the slaves, and tomorrow's session wasn't going to be any lighter than this day's was. The girls numbered seventy-eight and one hundred ten collapsed from exhaustion after they ate. They were too tired to wait for lights out. Each of them pulled their blankets over their faces and was asleep in moments.

Sometime after dinner was served and lights out, the girl on the X-frame gave up. She could not go another day without food or water and the torture she'd endured had taken it's toll. Her body went limp on the frame as she expired. She would still stand as a testament to those that would displease the Collectors, though. Her body would be removed after lights out tomorrow night.

Tomorrow would be another busy day for the Collectors. Two new recruiting missions were scheduled and training classes were to be held again. The Estate would open fully in just over a week's time and they still needed over three hundred girls recruited and trained before the formal grand opening party. They were going to be cutting it to the wire, it seemed.

Jonathan Clark did realize that he could open with the three hundred girls he had now, but having several disposable slaves for the opening party would be so much nicer. There were so many things to finish between now and then, he could hardly worry about the number of slaves, though. He was still planning events for the party. It was going to be one hell of a bash. That much was certain.

Part Five: College Girls

The University of Louisiana, Monroe

Anderson Hall

4:00AM

The sun had not yet risen over the quiet Louisiana campus, and student life had not yet begun. Even the food service workers and graduate students were still asleep in their beds. No one was awake to see the two black semi trucks pull to a stop at the side of a lonely side road. Not one person even twitched in their sleep as a yellow school bus and a black town car pulled into a parking lot on the campus.

Eighty men in civilian clothing emerged from the bus after the engine was turned off and the headlights were extinguished. Each man carried a small duffle bag sporting the school's logo. The men walked quietly, easily and confidently into the lobby of the building in front of which the bus had parked.

The lobby would have been stylish in the 1960s. The furniture had that avocado green, vinyl upholstered look to it that seemed to be so popular in that era. In the lobby of a college dormitory, however, the furniture looked a bit ridiculous. Still, the abhorrence of the furniture was mild compared to the awful still-life paintings and portraits hanging on each wall and lit by glaring overhead track lighting. The whole room carried with it the feeling that the person had just walked backwards in time.

At the far end of the lobby sat a desk at which a student resident assistant dozed. At hearing the approach of many footsteps, she perked up and looked around to see what was happening. She saw the large group of men approaching her desk and was at once shocked.

“Hey! You can't be in here,” the girl at the desk said, standing up. “This is a girl's dorm.”

“We know,” the first of the men said calmly as her crossed the last couple of steps to reach the girl at the desk. He reached out quickly and grabbed her by the ponytail at the top of her head. The shocked look on her face would have been comical under different circumstances. The man dragged her across the desk and pulled her to the floor. Another man quickly taped her mouth closed and tied her hands with a plastic strip. The thought to scream never even occurred to the girl, and now it was way too late. She was swiftly dragged to her feet again and carried by the man to one of the horrible couches in the lobby. The man placed her on her stomach on the couch and told one of the other men to keep an eye on her.

As the horrified and shocked girl watched, the men opened their duffles and removed from them masks to cover their faces and sleek-looking black automatic pistols onto the ends of the barrels of each was attached a silencer. The girl's eyes went even wider as she saw all the guns.

The lobby of the dormitory was located in the middle of the ground floor. Hallways depended from the lobby to the right and left that led to the rooms on the ground floor. Since this was only a three story structure and it was quite old, there were no elevators to the upper floors. In each of the halls were two stairwells, one on either end of the hall, leading to the upper two floors. Presently, the doors into the hallways were closed, as they were every night after eight and they would remain so until eight in the morning. All the doors to the outside were locked, except the front door, so anyone coming or going from the dorm had to enter or leave through the lobby. This made it easier for the night monitor to keep up with traffic in and out of the dorm, but it also served to make the job these men were here to do even easier than if the doors were all usable. There were two fire exits that would need to be watched, though. The prohibition on boys in the dorm and the curfew couldn't compromise safety, after all. All dorms were required to conform to local fire codes.

The mercenaries for the Collectors Estate, under the direction of the man that had quickly dealt with the girl at the desk, were dispatched swiftly and efficiently into the dorm. Three men stayed in the lobby. Two were assigned to watch the front door and the girl and one to watch the rear door leading out of the lobby. One man was assigned to watch each outside door, even the locked ones just to be safe, and one man was stationed at each stairwell door on each floor. That left about seventy men to do the actual work this morning.

Quietly and efficiently, the men entered each hallway in the dorm. Two doors at a time were opened with highly-effective lock picking devices. Before the girls in each room could even wake, men were on top of them in their beds, taping their mouths closed and tying their hands behind their backs. The dorm was almost completely full. That meant two girls to almost every room, twenty rooms to a hall, six halls, for a total of almost 240 girls. This would be another excellent haul, and would nearly fill the Collectors' quota. Of course, any X-classes wouldn't count toward the final total, but the number would still be good.

In barely twenty minutes, 120 rooms had been opened and entered and the inhabitants of each removed, bound and gagged, into the hallways of the dorm. The girls, still in their night clothes or less, were all herded at gunpoint into single-file lines in each hallway. When all the girls were finally secure, one man radioed an all clear signal.

In the parking lot, the back door of the black town car opened and out stepped a man in a black suit. He was not wearing his expensive sunglasses yet today, as the sun had not yet risen. He was carrying a stainless steel coffee mug full of strong, black coffee, though. The man in black was not much of a morning individual, but he did not let his personal preferences interfere with his business. If his employers demanded that he worked at four in the morning, then he worked at four in the morning without complaint.

The man in black entered the dormitory lobby; his face was emotionless, passionless, but in its calmness, it was very, very scary. He made a motion to one of the men guarding the lobby and the man immediately opened the nearest door and indicated for the first group of girls to be brought into the lobby. As the first line of forty girls was being herded into the lobby, the man in black looked at the girl that had been restrained on the couch. His cold eyes regarded her with the barest hint of humanity. She was an object to him, a prize. Nothing more than that. The man in black turned from the girl on the couch and regarded the girls that had just been brought into the lobby. Each girl that saw him felt a chill in her stomach and somehow instinctively knew that this man was not to be tried or frustrated.

The lobby of the dorm was far to small to hold all the girls at once, so the plan was to bring the girls into the lobby one hallway at a time, strip them, inspect them and then send each line to the trucks one at a time. After the first line of girls had been moved into the lobby, half the men that had been guarding and herding them moved along the line of girls and cut the plastic binding each girl's hands. They left the gags intact, though. Any excessive shrieking from one of the girls' dorms was likely to be noticed.

“So, you are all Catholic sluts in this dorm?” the man in black asked as he walked down the line of girls. “What an interesting way to house Catholic sluts. It is almost like a convent, is it not?”

The girls said nothing. What could they say? Their mouths were still taped shut. They could only stand and watch the man curiously and with fear.

“Listen to me, Catholic sluts,” the man said in his strange accent. “I am going to give you instructions and you are going to obey them. If you do not obey them, these men will kill you.” He paused as several of the girls made strange frightened sounds from behind their makeshift gags.

“These men have removed your bonds for a reason,” the man in black said, walking the room and looking from frightened face to frightened face. “Your hands have been freed so each of you may remove all of your clothing, you will do it quickly and quietly. If you do not, you will be shot.”

There were various moans of frustration and mournful sobs from mouths held captive behind duct tape gags. However, a quick look about the room at all the men holding guns was all it took to convince the girls to obey and stay alive.

Soon, several men were lining the girls up into four straight lines of ten girls each. As each girl's ands were freed, they each began removing what clothing they were wearing. Since the girls had been taken from their rooms in their night clothes, most of them were only in pajamas. Several girls were wearing less than that, preferring to sleep in only panties or a nightshirt. In short order, all of the girls were completely naked for the inspection of the man in black.

It took the man in black almost no time at all to inspect and grade the line of forty girl. He was so accustomed to viewing female flesh, he had an instinct for it by now. In his former line of work, he had occasion to hone those skills. In an instant, he could size up a woman, or a man if necessary. He knew immediately how much they weighed, what size shoes they wore, the shape of their feet, what size bra they wore, the size of their hips, the curves of their bodies, the shape and fullness of each girl's lips, the length of their fingers, freckles, and several other characteristics that were employed in the inspection and grading process.

In what seemed like mere moments, each girl had been inspected, her bra size written on her chest, her height and weight written on the back of her right shoulder, any piercings or modifications circled in bright red marker, and a final grade written on her forehead. Not surprisingly, given the day and age, this group had a large number of piercings. It seemed that, in their desire to be unique and individual, teens had failed to notice that they were conforming in their own ways. Rebellion in predictable fashion is still conformity, and these girls seemed eager to conform to their rebellious natures. The forty girls' hands were again bound and they were herded from the lobby through the back door of the dormitory, the lock of which had been picked with ease by the man guarding it, and out to the trucks. The S and E class girls were herded like cattle up stainless steel pull-out ramps and into the cargo trailer of one truck, while the A, B, and X class girls were herded into the other truck.

As soon as the first line of girl was secured in the trucks, the second line was brought into the lobby by the men guarding them. They, too, were unbound, stripped, inspected, graded, bound again, and herded to the trucks. The process was repeated a total of six times until the dorm was empty and all the girls were naked, graded, and stowed on the trucks.

The girls housed in this dorm were of a variety of body types, height and weight. Each girl, however, apparently fell between the age range of seventeen to nineteen. This was a very good age for nubile slaves under the whip. At this age, they would be somewhat rebellious, but also immediately loyal and obedient once they were broken. Each of these girls were as unique as the next. Some of them had tanned skin, others were pale. Some girls were thin and tightly muscled while others were overweight with sagging bulges of fat. The girls in this dormitory could easily satisfy any fetish or desire based on body type. And now they all belonged to the Estate, whether they knew it or liked it or not.

“Remember what we were told, gentlemen,” the leader said, once all the girls were secured aboard the trucks. “Remove the tape this time. We don't want any more losses then necessary.”

Several men moved into each trailer and began removing the tape from the mouths of the girls. Guns pointed at their heads kept the shrieks quieted to fearful sobbing. No one wanted to die, and it was very clear that these men would kill them. Despite their hysteria, the girls knew instinctively that their lives depended on their being quiet.

The man in black had already returned to his car and the car had departed the area. Once the trailers were loaded and the trucks were on their way, the men made their way back to the school bus in which they'd arrived. They'd retrieved their bags and removed their masks before crossing into the parking lot and filing back onto the bus.

At 6:00AM, when the food services were just opening their doors, and the graduate students were stirring in preparation for another day of heavy studying, over two hundred girls sat huddled together in the backs of unmarked black semi trucks. Each wondered what was going to happen to them.

Strangely enough, it took three full days before anyone even noticed the girls were missing. Their absences from classes were noted as normal college girl activity, and since they were living on campus, even their families had no idea they were gone. Only when one girl's boyfriend reported that he hadn't seen her in three days was campus security alerted to the missing girl. When a security officer was sent to her dorm to check on her, he found the dorm to be completely empty and no girls at all present. This was not taken as odd by the officer, who was not the brightest bulb in the box, until his supervisor asked him if there were purses in the rooms. When the officer answered that the purses were still in the rooms, then the supervisor said there was big trouble.

On the afternoon of the third day, it was assessed that none of the girls from that dorm had been to class in three days, and that no one had even seen any of them in that period of time. The following morning, the state police were called in to assist with the investigation. The girls had all disappeared without a trace. By the time the state police had been called to assist in the investigation, the girls had already been processed into the Estate.

This operation had gone far more easily than the man in black had ever expected it would have gone.

Part Six: The Pool

Municipal Swimming Facility

Salem, North Carolina

4:00PM

It was that time of year. The time when it was too cool to go to the beach, but too nice to stay at home inside. The Municipal Swimming Facility hosted one of the largest indoor swimming facilities in the city, and today it was packed with people. Given the time of day, the crowd consisted of mostly teenagers just getting out of school. There were also a few older people there as well. Senior citizens performing water aerobics and the forties crowd trying to work off the winter fat made up the rest of the crowd. There were no parents with small children present, because a sign had been posted for days now warning that today the staff would be cleansing the poll with a special algae-eating agent that might cause allergic reactions in younger children. So, the parents were happy to keep their kids out of the pool today.

The truth was that there was no agent or possible allergy alert. A representative of the Collectors Estate had visited the pool earlier in the week while scouting and seen the local crowd. He'd been quite impressed, but noticed a lot of younger children there on the day he'd visited. The Estate had little interest in toddler-aged children, and even the hardest of the mercenaries were loath to kill the really young. Therefore, in the interest of humanity, the Estate representative, posing as a cleaner, convinced the swimming facility's manager that they needed an algae scrub, and that the younger children would need to be kept out of the pool for twenty-four hours during the scrub. Fortunately, the manager bought the story and the unnecessary loss of life was avoided.

For the most part, the crowd was having a fun day. The seniors were in one pool performing their aerobics, the teens were mostly in another pool frolicking and grouped together in their own little cliques, and the remainder of the people were gathered in and around the third pool. Bleachers lined three of the walls surrounding the pools, and in the bleachers, seated high up away from the rest of the crown was one woman that looked remarkably out of place. She was blonde, dressed in sharp business attire and she was staring intently at a laptop resting on her knees. She barely even heard the ruckus going on around here, so focused was she on her work. In a few moments, though, she closed the laptop and produced a cell phone from a pocket of her tailored jacket. She placed the earpiece of a headset device in her ear and dialed a number. She dropped the phone back into the pocket from which she'd produced it in the first place and began to speak quietly into the phone.

As the woman's words were quietly spoken, groups of men began moving into the swimming facility from various positions about the building. The first team swept through the entrance area, herding everyone there back toward the pool area. The second team went in with the first team, but broke off and swept through the locker rooms, also herding any people in those rooms into the pool area as well. The remaining four teams of men entered through the various emergency exits, picking the security locks and disabling the alarms first. These teams quickly took control of the pool area itself and moved everyone from the bleachers to the concrete floor of the pool area. In moments, the pool facility was closed to the outside public, guards posted at all the doors and all the people had been herded, in shock, at gunpoint out of the entryway, out of the locker rooms, off of the bleachers and out of the pools to the floor. The people looked about nervously, seeing only men with guns and masks surrounding them.

One of the men near the door to the entryway picked the security lock and began flipping switches on a small metal switch plate. The motorized bleachers began to trundle backwards away from the pools and toward the walls. Extended, the bleachers offered seating for nearly a thousand people, but retracted they barely took up two feet of floor space. With the bleachers retracted, the floor space of the facility had quadrupled. From the corner of the room, the blonde woman with the laptop walked forward.

She said in her loud, clear, professional voice, “Listen to me people.” Almost at once, everyone's attention turned to her.

She continued to speak, walking along the group of frightened people. “You will follow the instructions I give you and do exactly as you are told to do. If you don't follow my instructions, these men will kill you.” She had to paused as some of the younger girls shrieked in fear. “If you do exactly as you are told, without hesitation, you will live through this experience.”

People began to get nervous. Murmuring began in the crowd. Some of the younger ones in the crowd began to cry.

“Listen to me!” the blonde woman said loudly, and again the room was silent. “This is no joke. If you don't do as you are instructed, you will die. If anyone thinks these men won't kill them, then I invite those people to step forward now to be the example.”

No one moved and no one spoke.

“Good,” the woman said. “Now that I have your attention, here's what I want: I want anyone under the age of eighteen against that wall over there.” She pointed to her left. “Anyone between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five I want against that wall.” She pointed to the far wall away from her. “And anyone over the age of thirty-five I want against that wall.” She pointed to her right this time. “Now move!”

At once, assisted by the armed men in masks, the people began to separate and move toward the walls as they'd been instructed. A group of three teen boys, in a moment of teen stupidity and fearlessness, tried to overpower one of the mercenaries and take his gun. The three boys were subdued and killed in second, and a panic broke out in the crowd for a few minutes, but was contained without any further losses.

In less than ten minutes, the large crowd had split into three groups, each group against a different wall of the building. The people stood nervously, but silently, looking at the men with guns and wondering if any of them really would make it out of here alive.

The woman moved toward the group of people against the left-hand wall. The under eighteen group would be the easiest to control and subdue, especially after the example set by the group of boys the mercs had killed. The bodies of those boys had been dragged away into the locker room area.

“Okay!” the blonde woman said to the group, loudly enough to be heard clearly. “I want boys on the left and girls on the right.” The people began to move into two groups, one of girls and one of boys. “Good,” the woman said. “Now hold still.”

She moved to the center group of people and instructed them to separate into male and female groups as well. Finally, the people against the right-hand wall were told to do the same. After the people were separated into groups by age, and then by sex, the woman moved back to the first group; the under eighteen group.

Suddenly, and without any warning, a bot yelled, “Rush them!” and sprung forward at the closest mercenary. Apparently, he expected the rest of the group to follow his example, but all they could do was watch, startled, as the boy ran forward at the mercenary. The mercenary raised his gun, but the blonde woman yelled at him not to shoot. Instead, the merc caught the boy as he grappled for the gun, flipped the boy over his hip and to the floor, and knelt over the boy, pinning the boy's arms at his side with his knees. The merc looked to the blonde woman for instructions.

“There's always one,” she muttered to herself. She walked to the boy and crouched down near him as he struggled under the weight of the muscular mercenary.

She slapped the boy hard across the face. Stunned, he stopped struggling and looked up at her. “I'm going to kill you,” she said. “You should know that right away. But because you're being a pain in my ass, I'm going to torture you for a couple of hours first. That's your reward for your heroics.”

She looked at the mercenary as the boy goggled at her. “Get him out of here,” she said. “Tie him up in the girls' bathroom until I can get to him.”

The mercenary turned the boy over and pulled his arms behind him he dragged the boy, screaming, to his feet and toward the door to the girls' lockers and bathroom. It was the same door through which the dead boys' bodies had previously been dragged. The boy screamed and tried to kick out at the mercenary the whole way into the bathroom, but the mercenary was far too powerful for the youth. In no time at all, the boy was pushed to the floor of a bathroom stall and his hands tied with a plastic strip to a toilet. The boy wasn't going anywhere; at least not without tearing the skin off his hands or gnawing off one of his own arms first.

The blonde woman returned her attention to the two groups of people in front of her. She moved to the group of girls first. She saw the fearful looks on their faces, she saw the tears in their eyes. She saw the young faces glancing from her to the men's guns, and back to her again. The blonde woman loved this. This sense of power was the greatest part of this job. Better than the torture, better than the kidnaping, better than the knowledge that all of these people would be living a life of slavery, if they lived at all, after this day; all of that was nothing compared to looking at the people and seeing the fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty in their eyes. Just watching these girls made her feel powerful, like god. She knew that, with one word, she could have any one of them killed, and these men would never question her order. Just knowing that made her pussy drip with moisture. The thought of torturing one of these twelve, or sixteen year old girls until they begged her to put a bullet in their head, and then granting that wish made the blonde woman made her want to cum.

Watching the girls' faces, she gave the command she'd been waiting to give since she'd gotten here, “Strip out of your swimsuits.”

With those five words, the younger girls instantly deteriorated into uncontrollable sobs. They begged her with their eyes to not make them do this. Each of them looked at the woman with tears in their eyes, hoping to touch some sense of sympathy in her. If they only knew they were doing the opposite, the girls would never have bothered. Seeing the tears and the fear only made the woman wetter, hornier, and more willing to kill all of them to satisfy her own depraved sexual urges.

The guns pointed at their heads convinced the girls that their modesty would only get them killed. First one, then a few more, and finally al the girls as a group began stripping out of their swim wear. In just a moment, bikinis, swimsuits, swim shirts and shorts were all lying in piles in front of the girls. The girls hugged themselves to cover their nudity or to keep warm in the slightly chilly air inside the facility. The heated water of the pools made the air fairly warm, but being completely naked allowed the air to cool more of the skin.

From the group of women against the center wall, a voice suddenly cried out. “Why don't you just leave them alone? They're just children!”

The blonde woman wheeled around, incredible upset at being distracted from viewing the lovely exposed girl flesh before her.

“Who said that?” she said angrily. “Bring her forward.”

One of the mercenaries grabbed the woman who'd made the outburst by the hair and dragged her away from the rest of the group. The blonde woman stalked over to the woman and slapped her hard in the face. The blonde woman slapped her once, then twice, and the a third time, raising red welts one the woman's face. The woman could only look back at the blonde woman in shock and fear.

“You listen to me, you filthy cunt,” the blonde woman seethed at the woman that had yelled out. “I give the fucking orders around here, bitch. Not you! Me! If I hear another fucking word out of your fucking mouth, I'll have your tongue cut out and then make you fucking well eat it! Do you understand me, bitch?”

The woman looked back at the blonde fearfully. Her bottom lip trembled, as if she'd just realized at how much risk she'd placed herself.

“I asked you a question, bitch. Answer me!” the blonde woman cried out at the trembling woman.

“Yes, I understand,” the woman stammered. Her voice barely a whisper.

“What?” the blonde woman shouted at her, grabbing the woman's face and pulling her closer. “I didn't fucking hear you, whore. What did you say.”

“I said yes, I understood you,” the woman said, tears popping into her eyes.

“Good. You fucking well better.” the blonde woman said, releasing the woman's face. She turned to the mercenary holding her and said, “Put her back in the group.”

The blonde woman returned to the groups of younger swimmers. She eyed the girls again, but stopped in front of the boys. It was their turn now. The blonde woman hoped to enjoy seeing the boy flesh as much as the girls. Although, girls were more to her liking. Boys tended not to cry as much, and they tried to remain strong as taught by their fathers. She loved torturing boys, though. She loved the moment when she finally broke them and they wept like babies for her. She also loved to humiliate young boys by taking them anally with her largest strap-on dildos. Her favorite use for young boys was to beat and torture them until they cried, then to have anal sex with them until they bled while at the same time jerking their little cocks with her hand until they had no choice but to cum for her, still crying from the pain and humiliation, and then she'd kill them, often by placing a plastic bag over their heads until they suffocated. That way she could watch their eyes as the life drained out of them.

“You boys,” she said. “It's your turn. Strip naked.”

The boys, too, were reticent to comply, but just like the girls, the guns were powerful motivators. Soon, boys were stripping out of their shorts and the clothes were in piles in front of them, too. It seemed that, despite the danger they were in, some of the boys had apparently been sneaking glances at the naked girls because several of the boys were sporting hard cocks.

“Well, look at this,” the blonde woman said, moving to the nearest boy with a stiff penis. “We have a few little perverts here.” She reached out and took hold of the boy's cock and pulled him toward her, using it as a handle.

The boy said nothing, but looked at her with eyes as wide as saucers. He was trembling, but his little cock, which was just starting to brim with pubic hair, was stiffer now than it was before she grabbed him.

“You like looking at these girls, boy?” she asked, giving his cock a little squeeze.

The boy said nothing, but nodded at her.

“Which one's your favorite?” she asked him, looking over at the group of girls.

The boy quickly looked down at the floor, too ashamed to say anything.

The blonde woman squeezed his cock harder and asked again, “Which one's your favorite?”

The boy cringed slightly as she squeezed his member. It didn't really hurt, but it made him have that feeling in his legs and hips like he felt while he was stroking it while he was wearing a pair of his mom's panties.

“Shelly Winters,” the boy said quietly, as if he didn't want Shelly to hear him.

“Shelly, huh?” the woman asked. “What's so nice about Shelly?”

The boy just looked down at the floor again, not saying a word.

“Let's find out, why don't we?” she asked, letting go of his cock and walking back to the group of girls. “Which one of you is Shelly Winters?”

For a moments, no one said or did anything. Then a girl stepped forward. She was about five feet, two inches tall with long blonde hair, muscular legs, a narrow waist, hips that were just starting to show the curves of womanhood, and large, round, firm breasts.

“I can see why he likes you,” the woman said, looking her up and down. The girl instinctively covered herself from the sudden attention her nakedness was bringing her. She suddenly had a brilliant and perverted idea. She reached into her jacket and brought out her red pen.

“Hold still,” she told Shelly. “This will just take a second.”

The blonde woman marked the letters AF SH on Shelly's left upper arm.

“Now, don't rub that off or smear it, okay?” the woman said. “If you do, the people you're going to meet will think you're trying to hide something from them, and they don't like that.” The girl nodded at the woman and didn't touch the letters marked on her.

The blonde woman went back to the boy who was still sporting his hard-on. She grinned inwardly as she saw his still-stiff cock standing out away from his body. Her pussy also twitched at the thought of what was to come for this boy. She was going to enjoy watching her plan unfolding. She wrote the same letters on his left upper arm, too. She also made a mental note to email her special handling instructions to the Estate after she was finished here.

“Okay,” the blonde woman said to the youngsters. “All of you move back against those bleachers and put your butts right up against them. I'm going to have a look at all of you, and then these men will escort you out of here.” She motioned to the mercenaries guarding the group of youngsters.

The group moved against the bleachers and the woman, starting with the girls first, moved along the line from person to person, inspecting and grading them. There were no cosmetic enhancements to speak of in this group and only the older girls, the seventeen and eighteen year olds had any tattoos, and even then there weren't many. It was impossible for the blonde woman to assign an effective bra size to some of the younger girls, as they had not yet started to develop breasts. So instead of trying to assign a bra size to those girls' information, the blonde woman simply marked them as ?A. That told the handlers at the Estate that those girls were too small for actual bras or harnesses.

She then moved to the group of boys and graded them as well. She moved down the line of boy flesh, noting the hairless penises, the immature slimness of their bodies, and the bodies of the boys just coming of age.

One of the boys shocked her. He was an eighteen year old with broad shoulders and well-developed muscles; a football player's physique. What shocked her about this boy was that he had a Prince Albert piercing. She had not expected to see that on any of these kids. She just shook her head slightly and marked the head of his penis with her red marker. She thought he might fit well in the Estate.

The youngest group was finally inspected and graded. The blonde woman gave the mercenaries orders to remove them. The mercs led the group away, out the door into the entryway of the pool facility. As the group approached the front doors to the pool, they saw that three semi rucks had back almost all the way to the front doors. A large blue tarpaulin screen had been erected and supported by metal poles, shielding the front entrance to the pool and the trucks from view of the roadway nearby. Unseen to the group being led to the trucks, but viewable from the road, a sign was posted in front of the big blue tarp announcing that the pool was closed for cleaning.

The group was led out of the facility and into the backs of the trucks, sorted by the rankings assigned to each of them by the blonde woman after her inspection. The back doors of the trucks were left open, but they were guarded by the group of mercenaries and told to remain very, very quiet. More people would be joining these youngsters in the back of the trucks, so there was no sense in closing the doors. If any of these kids yelled or spoke up, they'd be shot as an example and that would take care of that.

Back at the pool, the blonde woman had moved on to the next age group. She ordered the women to strip, and then the men. She went from person to person inspecting and grading them. The woman that had pissed her off earlier, she secretly assigned an X ranking to, even though the woman was obviously an A-class specimen. This group seemed to be somewhat vainer than the previous group, too. Several of the women had breast enhancements done. Overall, though, the group was pretty natural, and was graded fairly highly. There weren't a lot of S-classes in this group, but there were plenty of A-classes and several E-classes as well.

The mercenaries led that group out of the pool and into the trucks as well, again separating them by ranking. The people in the trucks were again warned against making any sound at all. If anyone spoke, they were told, they and the two people next to them would be shot.

The blonde woman moved to the next groups. These were the older people in the crowd. The range here was from thirty-five and up. As she looked over the members of this group, she knew not many of them were acceptable. All the seniors had to go. They were completely useless to the Estate. They were too old and frail to withstand the rigors of torture, they were useless as sexual objects, and they were even useless as X-classes because their meat would be to stringy to make effective meals.

As she moved down the line of people, all the truly old and frail she told to step away from the line, along with several of the fifty year old crowd that didn't have the looks to make the cut. The woman ordered these people, nearly three-quarters of this group, taken to the locker room by several of the mercs. The mercenaries knew well enough what that meant without having to be given explicit instructions.

As the elderly and the unacceptable were being executed, the blonde woman ordered the rest of the men and women of the group to strip. They were then inspected and grade just like all the rest had been before. This group was then taken out to the trucks and loaded along with the rest of the groups.

The doors of the trucks were closed, the mercenaries took off their masks and put away their weapons. The clothing they were wearing could easily be that of a pool cleaning company. A group of men took down the tarp covering the entrance and the trucks pulled away from the swimming facility. They were on the road and on their way to the Estate in no time. The men loaded themselves into a couple of travel buses and also headed back to the Estate. Only the woman and her boy toy remained behind. The entrances to the pool were all locked and the notice of cleaning sign was left up outside so no one was expected to bother her while she did her work. Her favorite kind of work.

The blonde woman took a seat in a chair by the pool and opened her laptop. She wrote a brief email to the Estate detailing her special instructions for the boy and the girl she'd marked. She them closed her laptop again, setting it aside for now. She drew the pistol she kept in the shoulder holster under her jacket and headed into the girls' locker room and bathroom.

“Well, hello, my pretty,” she said to the boy tied to the toilet. She reached down and took hld of the boy's swimming trunks and pulled them quickly to his ankles and off of him before he could realize what she was doing and fight back. She knelt on top of him, putting her full weight on his shoulders. She pushed the muzzle of her gun against his nose and looked him right in the eyes.

“How are you doing, bitch?” she asked, grinning at him wickedly over the barrel of her gun.

“Bitch? Who are you calling a bitch?” the teen retorted angrily.

“You, stupid,” she snapped at him. His boisterousness irritated her. “You're the only other one here, aren't you? Well, except for those dead bodies out there.”

“Yeah?” he snapped back. “Well, fuck you! You don't scare me. You untie me from here and I'll whip your little ass.”

“Oh you think so, do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck yeah! You let me up and you'll see.” the boy replied confidently.

“Well, we'll just see about that,” she said and pulled a knife from its concealed sheath at her thigh. She moved off the boy and around the back of the toilet. She cut the plastic strips holding him and then quickly backed out of the bathroom stall.

The boy was on his feet quickly. He was captain of the high school wrestling team and he outweighed this bitch by thirty pounds at least. Plus, she was just a girl. What could she do to him?

He rushed at her, hoping to catch her off-guard and take her down. Before he even knew what had happened, she had stepped to the side and, using his own weight and momentum against him, flung him past her and into one of the mirrors above one of the sinks behind her. The glass broke, cutting into his forehead and hands. Before he could move, she spun around, swinging her elbow in a downward motion into one of his kidneys. The boy staggered to his knees. The pain was so incredible, he threw up on the tile floor.

The woman was on him immediately. She grabbed his hair from behind and put her arm around his neck in a tight grip, effectively cutting off the blood flow to his brain. He scrambled to grab her hand or wrist, but he couldn't get the necessary leverage to break her grip. In barely a moment, he felt pounding in his head and his vision started to get fuzzy. He tried to reach up and slap at her, but she moved her head easily out of the way. In a few more second, he couldn't even lift his arms above his head and his vision was darkening. The woman maintained her grip on him until he passed out. Then she allowed him to fall forward, cracking his head on the cold tile floor of the bathroom.

“Stupid,” she said caustically. She kicked his head once with her tailored leather shoe.

She grabbed him by one wrist and dragged him out of the bathroom and into the locker room. He was heavy, but nothing she couldn't handle. Her training had instilled her with strength greater than her looks.

She left the boy on the floor of the locker room a few feet away from the bodies of the teens that had tried to overpower one of the mercs earlier. She walked away from him and began searching the bathroom area and locker room for items she would need to fully enjoy herself. In a few moments, she had what she needed. She also undressed the three dead bodies that had been left here earlier. She didn't care that they were dead. She was used to seeing dead people on a nearly-daily basis. These bodies were just tools for her to use in degrading her toy before she killed him.

She returned and tied a length of thin nylon rope she'd found in the pool offices around the boys scrotum, effectively cutting off all blood flow to his testicles. She also tied a length of the rope around the boy's neck, using the free end as a leash. Now, she could easily cause the boy instant pain by tugging the rope on his balls or she could cut off his air supply by pulling on the rope tied at his neck. She thought those two things, coupled with the fact that she had a very sharp knife and a gun, would allow her to carry out her twisted plans for this boy's final hours.

She went into the pool employees' break room and found a plastic cup. She returned to the bathroom and sat on one of the toilets and pissed in the cup. She waited a few moments until it cooled to room temperature, then she walked out of the bathroom and threw her piss in the boy's face to wake him. She'd wished she could have delivered the stream onto his face herself, but that would leave her in a precarious position.

The boy snapped awake instantly, looked around quickly to see where he was, and tried to get to his feet. From her position behind him, the woman pulled hard on the rope tied to the boy's balls causing him to cry out in pain and fall back onto his knees.

“Stay down, boy,” she said in a warning tone. “You don't want to test my patience anymore today.”

The boy was wiping her piss out of his eyes. He noticed his eyes were stinging and the liquid on his face tasted salty and bitter.

“You pissed on me?” he yelled at her, surprised and irritated.

“Well I had to wake you up somehow,” she said calmly, an evil smile spreading over her face. The boy was still turned away from her, so he didn't see it. “If I'd just left you there, you'd have been out for an hour.”

He tried to turn around to see her, but another sharp tug on the rope at his balls convinced him not to move.

“Now,” she said cooly. “Do we see who's in charge here?”

“You're not in fucking charge of me, bitch!” he yelled. His voice was almost hysterical.

She jerked hard on the rope attached to his balls and kicked him in the back of the head. He fell forward on his face, his blue-purple balls stretched several inches behind his hips. She stepped forward and put her imported leather shoe on his balls and pressed down lightly.

“Yes, I fucking am, idiot!” she snapped at him angrily.

The boy laid there on the floor. All her could do was writhe in pain and cry out, begging her to stop hurting him. She had no intention of stopping. In fact, quite the opposite was on her mind. She was going to hurt and humiliate him even more before she was finished with him. And after she was finished with him, she was going to kill him. She was going to choke the life out of him and she was going to watch this little, laughable asshole die. Her pussy twitched at the thought of it.

She moved her foot off his testicles and said, “Turn over.”

The boy complied without complaint he rolled over onto his back, looking up at her. He saw her standing over him holding the ends of two ropes in her hands. In the hand that held the rope attached to his ball sac, she also held a wickedly sharp-looking knife. She moved forward toward him, keeping the ropes tight as she approached him. He watched her warily, not knowing what to expect. She crouched at his feet. He could see up her skirt as he looked down at her. He could see the lacy black panties covering her crotch. Despite his predicament, his teenaged hormones caused something to stir inside him.

“Here's what's going to happen, boy,” she said. She transferred the rope attached to his neck to her other hand, and reached out and took his cock in the hand that was now free. She saw his dark purple balls pulled tightly upward by the rope in her other hand. This only served to make her wetter between her legs. She wanted to reach down and grab those two badly discolored orbs and twist them, put them under her foot and grind them flat under her heel, and listen to this boy cry out in pain as she tightened the rope at his neck until he finally passed out and the breath left his body. She held herself back, though. She would have her fun with the boy first, and then she would kill him.

“You are going to perform for me,” she continued. She began stroking his cock slowly and tenderly. “You're going to do some humiliating and disgusting things for me. If you perform well, then I'll let you live. If you disappoint me, then I'm going to cut off your dick and watch you bleed to death. Understand?”

He looked at her in obvious fright. “You said you were going to torture me and kill me.”

“Well, if that's what you want, I can just do that instead,” she said sarcastically. “I'm offering you a chance to live here. If you don't want it...” She trailed off.

“No! No,” he said eagerly. “I'll do what you say just don't hurt me anymore.”

Now we're getting somewhere, she though. Of course, everything she was telling the boy was a lie. He was going to die horribly and painfully even if he did as she asked. She just wanted to encourage him so he'd do what she said to do before she killed him. She wanted to humiliate and degrade this little bastard before she killed him, and she knew that offering him the promise of life would encourage him to do exactly as she told him to do.

His cock was starting to get hard in her hand. Despite his fear and pain, he was still a teen boy. She knew that probably any touch from a woman would bring his member to life. She continued to stroke him as she talked.

“Now, if you're a good boy,” she said softly, using every word to manipulate him. “And if you do exactly as you're told, then I won't have to use this knife here to slice off this nice stiff cock of yours.” She waved the knife at him and squeezed his cock once just emphasize her points. “But you have to promise you'll do exactly as you're told no matter how disgusting it might be, because I'm not going to give you any second chances. The first time you resist me, I'll cut off Mr. Happy here and watch you bleed to death at my feet. Got it?”

The boy nodded, unable to speak. He was scared. He knew he had no choice but to do as she asked. It was the only way he'd live through this experience.

“Say ‘I promise to be a good boy' for me,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She continued to massage his cock, tugging gently on the rope holding his balls at the same time.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “I promise to be a good boy.”

“Good,” she said and smiled. “And you promise to do as you're told no matter what?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I promise. Just please don't kill me.”

“Excellent,” she said gleefully. “Now, roll over and get on your hands and knees. You're going to crawl over to those dead boys over there and we'll begin having our fun.” She indicated the bodies of the three dead teens lying face-down on the cold tile floor.

The boy whimpered at the thought of having to be near a dead body, but he rolled over and got to his hands and knees and began to crawl toward the bodies as instructed. The snug rope on his neck and the aching in his balls reminded him that it was better to cooperate with her and live than it was to argue with her and die dickless. The boy approached the bodies, stopping just short of the feet of the middle body. The blonde woman watched his stiff cock swaying back and forth as he crawled like a dog for her.

“Good boy,” the blonde woman said, giving him a little playful slap on his ass. “Now, starting with that blonde boy on the left, mount up and show me what a stud you are.”

“You want me to fuck a dead body?” the boy stammered in disbelief. “You want me to fuck a dead boy ?” The sheer revulsion in his voice was enough to almost make the blonde woman cum in her panties.

She jerked sharply on the boy's balls and reminded him firmly, “You promised to do as you were told. Now, you do as I say or we can get this over with right now. Which is it going to be, stud?”

The boy sucked in a sharp breath as his already aching nuts were pulled sharply behind him again. He said to her, his voice barely a whisper, “I'll do it.”

“Good. Now, mount up, stud boy,” she said again, slapping him on the ass.

Holding back the revulsion and the tears, the boy crawled over the body of the blonde boy before him. The boy had been shot in the side of the head, and the way his head was turned the boy on top of him could see the small bullet hole. A wave of nausea passed over the boy and he retched, but didn't throw up. He couldn't imagine sticking his dick into any boy's ass, let along the ass of a dead boy's body. His cock was still hard, though. He could feel it throbbing between his legs. That damned woman had made him so stiff, he'd never get rid of the hard-on unless he actually came. That was one of the things he hated about himself. If his cock ever got hard, he would have to masturbate to orgasm or it simply would not go away. He sometimes had erections that lasted all through the school day. If his dick would simply go limp, he'd be spared this shame, but it wouldn't happen, he knew. He was going to have to fuck this dead boy in the ass.

“What are you waiting for, boy? Let's go!” the blonde woman commanded with another tug of the rope on his balls.

“I've never done this...” he started, but was cut short when she jerked the rope around his neck.

“I don't want your god damned life story, boy. I want your fucking dick in that boy's dead ass right fucking now!” she released the tension on the rope at his neck and nudged his aching dark purple nuts with the toe of her shoe, indicating the boy should get down to business right away.

Indignantly, the boy lowered his hips and used one hand to position his cock at the entrance of the dead boy's ass. The body was still really warm, as the boy had only been dead for an hour or so. The boy begin thrusting his hips in an effort to make his cock go into the dead boy's asshole. It wasn't happening, though. No matter how hard he pressed and pushed, his stiff dick wouldn't penetrate the boy's ass.

“It won't go in,” the boy said nervously.

“Then you'll need to lube up his ass, won't you?” the woman commented.

“I don't have any lube,” the boy said.

“Yes you do. You have spit, don't you?”

“You want me to spit on his asshole to make it wet?” the boy said. He'd honestly never even considered the possibility that spit could be used for lubricant.

“No. Actually, I want you to get down on your belly and eat his asshole out until your slobber is dribbling off his balls,” she said, her pussy again dripping into her panties at just simply speaking those words.

The boy swallowed hard, again trying not to throw up or cry. He knew he had to do it. He had no choice. She'd kill him otherwise. He crawled backwards on the tile floor until he was looking at the dead boy's ass. The dead boy was blonde, so his ass was hairless and pale. It almost looked like a girl's ass, really. Maybe he could get through this if he just closed his eyes and imagined he was just eating out a girls' asshole. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? He dropped to his belly, his stiff hot cock flattened between the cold tile of the room and his belly. He closed his eyes and put his tongue out and began to lightly lick ay the boy's crack.

“No,” the woman said in a somewhat annoyed tone of voice. “You need to get your tongue right on his asshole. Reach up with your hands and spread his cheeks apart and put your face right in there and french kiss his butt. I want you to stick your tongue right in it.”

The boy said nothing, but nodded. Keeping his eyes closed he reached up and parted the dead boy's ass cheeks. He put his face forward again and started searching with his tongue for the boy's asshole. His tongue slid down the boy's crack and to the hole. He could tell he'd found the hole, because he could feel the warmth of it and he could feel the pucker of the skin. He opened the dead boy's cheeks wider and pushed his face right against his ass. Using his tongue like a cock, he began french kissing the dead boy's asshole. He's swirled his tongue on the hole, he licked at it, and he pushed his tongue into the hole. He could taste the chlorine from the pool water and the shit taste of the boy's ass. He retched again, but kept from vomiting again. He had to do this, he kept telling himself. He had to do it or something much worse would happen to him.

This was almost too much for the woman to watch. She wanted desperately to snatch off her panties and start fucking her pussy with as many fingers as she could fit into it. She was burning up and she felt that of she didn't cum soon, she'd explode. Her feelings of desperation were only getting worse as the boy's tongue started making slurping sounds against the dead boy's asshole. It was almost too much to bear. She had to keep herself in check just to keep from shooting him in the head and rushing out of the building and into her car so she could fuck herself silly.

The boy felt he'd gotten the dead boy's ass wet enough. His chin was covered in his own spit and the lines of drool were indeed dribbling down the boys' asshole and balls. He didn't want to look, but he had to check to make sure he'd done enough to please the woman before he stopped.

He got back to his hands and knees and moved back over the dead boy's body. He lowered his hips again and guided his hard cock to the boy's asshole again. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the bullet hole in the boy's head. He pushed his hips forward and his cock slipped into the dead boy's tight and warm asshole. To his astonishment, the boy's ass felt good. It was warm and tight, but relaxed because of the relaxing effect of death on the muscles. He pushed his cock all the way into the dead boy's ass, feeling the warmth enveloping his cock. He let out a soft moan as his cock buried itself in the dead boy's ass. His eyes snapped open and he let out an audible gasp of disbelief. He couldn't fathom that he was enjoying this disgusting thing.

The woman heard the moan and the gasp of disbelief, too. This was too good. The boy was enjoying fucking this dead body. How degrading must that be for him. She had to push him further to heighten the degradation.

“Oh you like that dead ass, boy?” she chided tugging at his balls. “You like fucking that dead boy in his ass don't you, faggot?”

The boy kept his eyes closed and his head lowered, but kept his hips moving. He felt the warm sheath of the dead boy's ass covering his cock, stroking him every time he moved his hips. His mind was in turmoil. He liked the way it felt, but he was disgusted by what he was doing.

The woman put her shoe on the boy's ass and pushed his hips down harder, burying his cock all the way in the dead boy's asshole. She would let him pull his hips up and then she would push them back down with her shoe. Although, the boy couldn't see it, the woman saw the expanding puddle of piss coming from under the dead boy's body. As she pushed the boy's hips down, the dead boy's bladder, unhindered by muscular contraction, would empty onto the floor.

In a few moments, she pulled the boy off of the dead boy. She watched as his hard reddened cock slipped out of the dead boy's relaxed asshole. She didn't want the boy to cum, but she did want him to amuse her until he died. She guided him to the next boy's body and told him to fuck that one, too.

The boy actually knew who this boy had been. They'd been friends in school and were both on the wrestling team and the football team together. He actually began to cry as he ate out this boy's asshole. He couldn't get it out of his head that he was doing this to one of his best friends. It didn't help that his friend's asshole was hairy and smelled deeply of shit. The boy had to pull his face away and spit several time in order to keep himself from throwing up all over the room. The woman wouldn't give him the time to fully recover, though. She'd just pull on the rope at his neck and guide his face back to the boy's ass and then shove him forward with her shoe until he started licking again. After a few moments, this boy's ass, too, was slick with spit.

The boy obediently mounted his friend and slid his dick into the boy's ass. This was a different feeling, though. Not just emotionally, but physically, too. The hairy ass was a constant reminder that he was fucking a boy. Plus, his friend's ass was hard and muscular, unlike the first boy's ass had been. He joylessly fucked his friend's asshole and silently wept as he did so. He prayed the woman would pull him off of this body sooner than the one before, but she didn't. She could tell he was struggling to perform with this body for some reason, so she made him go twice as long with this body as she'd made him go with the previous body. The boy didn't seem to be having any fun, which was fine with her. She didn't care one way or the other. It also seemed the boy wasn't in any danger of cumming while he fucked this boy's ass. So she let him go longer just to deepen his degradation.

After awhile, though, she began to bore with this and she pulled him off the second dead body and guided him to the third. He ate out this boy's dead ass, too, and then mounted and fucked this body. She watched as he dipped his cock into the boy's asshole. She watched his cock slipping in and out of the dead boy's ass. This was still making her fucking amazingly hot, and she couldn't wait to have a good cum.

She couldn't wait any longer. She had to get rid of him and go finger-fuck herself until she collapsed. She pulled the boy off the last body. His cock was flicking with each beat of his heart. He had been very close to cumming, despite himself. That was good, She wanted him frustrated when she killed him. Fuck him. If he'd been a good boy, he'd fucking well be alive in ten minutes, wouldn't her? She felt the anger rising in herself again. She'd had enough fun with this arrogant little piece of shit. Now it was time for her ultimate fun. He was going to die painfully, and she was going to enjoy watching his lights go out. Fucking little prick asshole.

She ordered him to roll over on his back and lie flat and spread his legs. As soon as he did as she commanded, she pulled the rope on his nuts tight, jerking them several inches away from his body. The boy screamed as his testicles were stretched to intensely painful limits. She stomped down on his balls with her shoe, putting her full weight on his balls. He sat up and cried out in a high-pitched whining voice that was only capable of being made by a boy having extreme nut pain. The woman grinned evilly. This was the best part.

Standing fully on his bloodless nuts, she pushed him back to the floor with her other foot. She had one foot on his balls and the other foot on his chest. She released the rope attached to his balls. She didn't need it anymore. She wrapped the rope connected to his neck around her hand several times and then pulled the rope tight. The knot slid closed around his throat, immediately cutting off the flow of blood and oxygen to his brain. She held him down and continued to pull the rope tight as he struggled, his face turning bright red. He clawed at the rope, trying to pull it away from his neck so he could take a breath and get the blood flowing back into his brain. The more he struggled, the tighter she pulled the rope. The strands of the thin rope had sunk into his neck, not cutting him, but shutting off his windpipe entirely. As the boy's face turned to a bright purple, he still futilely tried to claw at the rope, but he was losing the battle. In moments, his hands dropped to his sides and his eyes began to bulge in their sockets. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath out of water.

The woman's face was a mask of evil and hate and effort as she watched the boy's eyes roll back into his head. She held the rope tight for another couple of minutes until she was absolutely sure he was dead. When she knew he was dead, she let go of the rope and sheathed her knife. She stalked out of the building, not even bothering to lock the door behind her. It didn't matter anyway. By the time anyone discovered the mess, she'd be long gone.

She crossed the parking lot to her car, opened the door and seated herself in the back seat. She ordered her driver to take her to the airport. She would be back at the Estate by morning, and the next day she'd have more fun to watch.

As the car pulled away from the swimming facility, the woman in the back seat frantically pulled off her panties. She masturbated the entire way to the airport, cumming in several loud orgasms. When she reached the airport, she pocketed her panties, knowing she'd still be finger-fucking herself in the first class bathroom through most of the flight back to the Estate.

The woman and her driver entered the airport. Her job here was finished.

The following day, the local newspaper called the slaughter at the Municipal Swimming Facility the worse mass murder in the history of the state. Also noted were the mysterious disappearances of over 400 local residents between the ages of twelve and fifty. The two incidents, the police investigation revealed, seemed to be related. Reports indicated that virtually all of the missing residents had either told their friends or family that they were going to the pool that day, or they had last been seen at the pool by friends.

Insert One: The Classification System of Slaves at the Estate

In a document stored in a filing cabinet in Jonathan Clark's office and sent only to the two recruiters for the Estate, the following was written:

When you begin recruiting for the Estate, a certain expectation of quality is desired in the men and women each of you select. As you each well know from your previous works with other organizations, our membership will expect high quality, natural, and smart men and women. Each slave you recruit must fit one of the following categories and must adhere to the standards listed in this document.

Foremost are age concerns. No woman over the age of forty should be recruited as slave material, except in the X-class slaves listed below. No woman over the age of fifty should be considered, even for X-class assignment. No man over the age of forty-five should be recruited as slaves, except for X-class materials. No man over the age of fifty should be considered, even for X-class. Terminate these individuals on site. If there is a question of whether or not the man or woman to be chosen is within the required age bracket, err on the side of caution and execute questionable recruits on site as well. On the other end of the spectrum, no recruit should be under the age of eleven. While some members of the Estate do enjoy younger flesh, the rule in the membership contract is no slave younger than eleven on Estate property, even if the slave is brought from the member's home. Again, judgement should be used if you are unsure of a young recruit's age. If either of you suspect a recruit or recruits may be younger than eleven, then mark them as “SH-11" (Special Handling under eleven) and have them transported to the Estate for disposal. Our mercenary group has expressed concerns against executing the very young, but our butchers are quite ambiguous on the subject. It is rare that you should be placed in a situation in which children under eleven should even be a factor. We will be taking steps to try to ensure that children under eleven are not present during recruiting missions.

Natural and unmodified men and women are essential to the Estate. Many of our membership do not wish slaves with serious augmentation or modification. Recruits with large, bulbous or unnatural-looking breast augmentations should be executed on site. Because of health and safety concerns, these recruits are not even fit for X-class consideration. Leakages in older-model breast implants may poison their meat and render them not consumable. Recruits exhibiting a large number of body and facial piercings are also not to be considered for more than X-class material, unless they are truly spectacular specimens. Any recruit with between three and five piercings, not including ear piercings, should lose a rank off of your initial assessment. Any recruit with between five and seven piercings should lose two ranks from your assessment. Finally, any recruit with more than seven piercings in the body or face should immediately be declared an X-class. Excessive facial reconstructions should also remove recruits from consideration for slavery at the Estate. If the recruit's face does not look natural, then execute the recruit on site. Other enhancements are acceptable, if not excessive and if not detracting from the recruits' looks overly.

Hair is not a concern, as all recruits will be shaved completely upon their processing into the Estate. Skin color and suntan are also not considerations, as all slaves will be housed underground for at least the first month of their stay at the Estate. Each slave not of ethnic background should be equally pale by the time they are allowed to see the sun. Do not discriminate by race and ethnicity, either. The membership of the Estate will want diversity to satisfy their proclivities.

Tattoos, however, are a concern. Many Estate members do not like body markings unless they themselves put the markings there. One or two small tattoos are acceptable, as our surgeons will be able to remove them easily. However, recruits with large, colorful, or elaborate tattooing should only be considered as X-class material.

The actual rating you will assign each recruit are based on a short, alphabetic system. The ratings you will give each recruit are based on the qualifications listed above as well as on body type, endowments, and looks. We're not looking for personality, just nice-looking meat to please the membership. To assign ratings to your recruits, use the guidelines listed below.

X-class - These slaves are the garbage meat, fit only to become food for the more acceptable slaves. Morbidly obese slaves are instant considerations for X-class materials; the fat can be easily stripped from them when they are skinned and butchered. So, too, are slaves with serious facial defects, amputations, disfigurements, or any considerations listed in the text above. As long as they have good meat on them, mark them as X-class and let them feed the others. This, of course, also disqualifies the excessively skinny from X-class consideration. Better to just execute the overly skinny slaves on site.

B-class (Below average) - Slaves assigned to this category have somewhat acceptable looks. However, these slaves are only one or two mistakes away from becoming food themselves. Thin girls with smallish breasts, chubby girls with smallish breasts, slaves with flat asses, males with small penises, thin males, chubby males, and slave each of you would consider barely good-looking all qualify as B-class slaves.

A-class (Average) - These slaves are the “normal” looking, average recruits. This classification will make up the bulk of the slave body at the Estate. These slaves will have average looks, average bodies, and average endowments. If you do not see anything particularly special, but also nothing particularly horrible, about these slaves, then mark them as A-class.

E-class (Exceptional) - Slaves marked in this class should have very good looks, very attractive bodies, and exceptional endowments. Women considered for this class should have large breasts, trim bodies, good facial features and bone structure, and they should be as close to all-natural as possible. However, women with very large breasts, but with slightly larger frames may also be considered for E-class assignment, if their looks merit the assignment. Males considered for E-class assignment should have good physiques, thick or long cocks, muscular asses, and be very proportional in height and weight. Men in this class should be trim, fit and good-looking. Chubby men and tall, thin men should not be placed into this category.

S-class (Superior) - The creme de la creme of all the slave meat you analyze. Only the very best specimens of those you observe belong in this category. These have to be the men and women the membership will fight to claim. S-class specimens should be tall, trim, fit, with naturally exceptional looks and with the most superior endowments. Likely, these will be less than 1% of your total finds.

Those are the requirements of the Estate. This is what I and the membership will look for in all slave specimens enlisted into our service. If you have questions regarding a slave, then use your best judgement in assigning your rankings. Always lean to the lower end of the spectrum when judging males. They are far less critical to the Estate than females are, and more easily replaceable as well. And if you cannot decide on an appropriate rating for a slave, then choose the lowest rating you have in mind for that slave. Better to err cautiously than to overestimate.

I look forward to seeing your work. I assure you that you will have the most professional group of mercenaries backing up each of your recruiting missions. You may encounter some resistance in some of your missions, but we hope losses will not be more than 30% in each endeavor. If ever you feel a mission is going very poorly, then execute everyone and we will schedule a back-up mission in its place.

Thank you for your service. Your payment is enclosed.

Please destroy this document immediately.

Part Seven - Slavery Becomes the Routine

The Collectors Estate

The next two weeks

A routine began to take shape at the Estate. The new slaves were processed two days after their initial capture, classes in obedience and servitude continued and, aside from a few problem slaves, everything was now well on track for the opening in less than two weeks' time. Every second day, a group of slaves would be taken to a large shower facility - not the same facility used for processing - where they were instructed to shave their own heads, eyebrows, and genitals. The slaves were allowed also to brush their teeth during these shower sessions. Hygiene would eventually become a more important aspect in their lives, but for now the slaves were kept as close to an animalistic state as possible. The fact that they had to depend on their masters for everything from food and water to simple dental care had to be instilled on them immediately and harshly so each individual would accept their place at the Estate more quickly, efficiently and pleasantly. Once the slaves had all learned their proper places and understood and accepted their new position in life and their training, then they could be allowed privileges like toothbrushes in the cells and such.

Truly, some slaves had to be punished for reticence, disobedience or for failing to perform as instructed, but only six slaves from the two new groups had been executed for serious disciplinary violations. The Estate was running far more smoothly than any of its charter members had ever dreamed it would. Jonathan Clark was so ecstatic that he could barely maintain his dour demeanor throughout each day. The thought of having all these wonderful bits of flesh under his absolute control, to live or die by his whim, made him positively giddy. Why, just by picking up the phone at his desk and dialing a few numbers, he could sentence any of nearly eight hundred slaves to their deaths. He didn't have to have a reason; he didn't even need to see their faces. All he needed was their number and at his word the slave belonging to that number would die. It was a heady feeling of nearly godlike power.

That feeling of power almost became too much for him to control one day. He happened to pass a volunteer slave escorting a young female slave to some punishment for some failure during a training class. The slave was probably only twelve or thirteen years old, which was just Jonathan's type. He watched with interest as the naked, bald, cuffed girl was led swiftly down the hallway. The volunteer slave girl was practically dragging the young girl, crying, to her destination. That sudden sense of power welled up in Jonathan Clark and he bade the volunteer to stop. At hearing his voice, she had immediately dropped to her knees, tugging sharply on the leash and forcing the young girl to her knees as well. Likely, the volunteer saved the girl from further punishment by making sure the younger girl remembered proper etiquette.

“Where is this girl being taken?” Jonathan asked the volunteer.

From her position on the floor, the volunteer looked up at Jonathan and said, “She is to be punished for failing to learn the positions expected of her.”

“Who is her instructor?” Jonathan asked.

“Miss Hancock,” the slave responded.

“Ah, I see,” he said thoughtfully. He knew very well the girl's punishment would not be light. Josephine did not take kindly to slaves that did not or could not learn proper positions. In Josephine's mind, position training was the very most basic thing any slave could learn. She figured a monkey could be trained to understand fifty positions, so a human should be able to do it easily enough, even under the duress of this type of stress.

“What were Miss Hancock's instructions for this slave?” Jonathan asked, looking over the young girl's body. His eyes noted her shaved head, downcast eyes, her thin, lanky build, budding breasts and bald mons. He wondered if the shavers had even had to shave this girl or if she was still naturally bare.

“She is to be taken to a torture room and strapped into an inversion frame until class ends. After that, I do not know, sir,” the volunteer answered. The girl at her side sobbed once.

Inversion frames were no fun. They were not designed to be fun. They were designed to be extremely uncomfortable, in fact. A slave's ankles were first chained to the floor. The slave was then bent backwards over the frame, which was little more than an upside-down U of wood supported by an adjustable wooden stand. The slave's wrists would then be shackled to her ankles, effectively bending the slave almost double, but backwards. For untrained or inflexible slaves, the process could be excruciatingly painful.

Jonathan glanced at his watch, noting that classes had only begun a half hour earlier. That meant this girl was going to spend two and a half hours strapped in that frame in extreme pain. It was almost too much for him to handle. He almost took the leash from the slave so he could escort the girl to her punishment himself. He knew if he took the leash, though, he would be making a mistake. He knew very well that, once this young, thin little piece of meat was on that frame, he would have to torture her. He would do cruel things to this girl that she'd never even dreamed of, or had nightmares of, for that matter. If he took the leash, he would likely befoul any training Josephine had already instilled on the girl. No. He knew better. Josephine would punish the girl, but that feeling of power was there, tingling through Jonathan Clark's body. He could feel it in his hands and behind his eyes. Only his sense of reason kept him from violating this young girl and possibly ruining her training and Josephine's trust in him.

“Very well, “he said to the volunteer. “Carry on.”

The slave was up in an instant, dragging the young girl roughly to her feet by the leash. As Jonathan resumed his way down the hallway, he heard the girl sob once again. A meek, helpless sound. He growled quietly in his throat, feeling a twinge at the base of his testicles. He would have to make use of that girl one day. He would introduce her to worlds of pain unknown to her. He would contort and twist her thin, fragile body as he saw fit. He would rape her and use her orifices for his own satisfaction. If she did not survive the experience... Well, there were always other girls.

The slave population at the Estate had exceeded all initial expectations by more than two hundred-fifty individuals. The founding members had planned to open the Estate with six hundred slaves, and at this time the Estate had eight hundred fifty-one slaves. More than enough for the opening and well more than anyone could have imagined. A week after the second two groups had been processed, the vital statistics of all the slaves were taken. The Estate already had such statistics as height, bust size, weight, and class, but more information was needed. Over a period of three days, every slave taken by the Estate was interviewed and their ages were noted, along with necessary information such as food allergies and health problems. Each slave's wrists and ankles were measured and the measurements were written down to indicate the correct size of ankle or wrist cuffs. Their necks were measured, too, for collar sizing. Eventually, every slave in the Estate would be fitted with permanent locking collars, wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. Every slave was given an eye and hearing examination, blood tests were taken to determine if any slaves were infected with any sexually transmitted diseases, and all the female slaves were given pregnancy tests. Granted, it was quite obvious to see who some of the pregnant ones were already. The founding members knew all too well that people, especially sick people, would lie about their conditions so the blood tests were taken even after the questions about health problems had been asked and answered. In the end, another forty slaves were executed after an illness was discovered, or after it was discovered that the slave was nearly blind or deaf, or that some of the older slaves were, in fact, older than initial estimates. None of these slaves were processed into food as the X-classes had been.

That was another area in which expectations had been far exceeded. The food pantries of the Estate were fuller than had ever been expected. One hundred thirty-eight slaves had been marked as X-class and had been executed for food. The average slave, once his or her meat was fileted off the bones, produced about sixty pounds of meat. Slaves were typically fed one pound servings at each meal, but only one meal a day was an X-class meal. Breakfasts usually consisted of real breakfast foods, like eggs, bacon, sausages, and pancakes or biscuits. Lunches, when the slaves were actually fed lunches during training, were often only salads, cold cuts and cheese, or sandwiches. Dinner was most often the X-class meal. The slaves were still unaware that they were actually eating the reject slaves' meat. A typical dinner only required about a quarter-pound of X-class meat per individual. The rest of the meal was made up of bread or vegetables. Therefore, the meat from one X-class slave would easily feed more than two hundred of the slaves each day. So, the chefs had enough meat to last for a minimum of a month.

Missions had already been planned to specifically look for suitable new sources of meat to feed the slaves. It was already known that the grand opening party would account for the losses of a lot of the B and A-class slaves. More than likely, more than a third of the current population would not survive the weekend celebration that was planned. Recruiting missions, on a much smaller scale, were already being planned. The new missions would likely only involve taking four of five slaves at a time. However, the men were instructed to look for slaves suitable only for meat during these missions. A steady influx of new meat would be needed to feed the slaves and Jonathan Clark insisted they were fed human meat at least once daily. To him, it was a key element in their ultimate degradation. One day they would find out what they were eating, and then they would know the severity of their situations.

A new order was also given that any slave that was executed from now on could be used for meat. Previously, the executed bodies were simply discarded with the waste, because there was far too much going on to process executed slaves into meat. Besides, they had a surplus of X-classes anyway, so meat was not a priority.

Slaves that were found to be pregnant were taken to a new area of the Estate. The seventeen pregnant slaves were each given a room with a soft bed. Their meals were increased threefold. Volunteer nurses were assigned to watch the girls' progress during their pregnancies. These slaves were still expected to train, but the seventeen of them now had their own training classes which were shorter and often less painful than the normal training classes the other slaves underwent.

Almost immediately, the pregnant slaves received vitamin and hormone treatments to supplement their diets. It seemed that the Estate was very interested in the safe and satisfactory births of the slaves' babies. To be sure, the pregnant girls thought they'd found heaven. They were actually being treated well. They had actual bedrooms in which to sleep. Granted, the doors were always locked, but it was better than sleeping in a four-feet by four-feet stone cell in the chilly basement. The bedrooms even had windows that faced out into the lush green forest that surrounded the Estate on all sides. The pregnant slaves were even given books to read, music to listen to, and crafts to keep them occupied. Compared to the treatment they'd received prior to the discovery of their pregnancies, these slaves were treated as queens.

Truly, the Estate did want extra care to be taken with these girls, and the Estate wanted healthy babies out of all the pregnant girls. Babies could be sold on the black market for up to $20,000 a head. And once these slaves gave birth, they would be impregnated again and again to keep the cash flow coming. Also, with the extra food they were receiving, the inactivity they would experience during their pregnancies, and the vitamin and hormone treatments they were given, these slaves would be fattened up and used as cattle. During their pregnancies, these girls would be milked twice daily and their milk either used in the other slaves' food or sold to specialty markets overseas that would pay very well for the milk of human women.

Each of these girls, and any girls which subsequently became pregnant, would be impregnated seven to ten times. Each girl would continue to be fattened over the span of these pregnancies, well fed, and lactating. Some of them would be put out to pasture to serve as dairy cows indefinitely. Once a girl began producing milk, she would likely keep producing as long as she was milked regularly. The rest would be slaughtered for food for special occasions. Many of the Collectors enjoyed the taste of tender, fatted girl meat. The slaves would certainly enjoy a Christmas dinner of fattened, succulent girl-cow.

Despite selling babies and human milk on the black market, money wasn't really a concern for the Estate. The members were generally wealthy and likely had enough money to last the Estate forever. But it was always nice to have large, padded accounts in far away lands, just in case the need ever arose for one or more of the members to evacuate to a non-extradition-treaty country. In cases like those, hundreds of thousands of dollars gained from the sale of illegal babies would certainly make one's life in Cuba, or Honduras, or the Ukraine much easier.

The knowledge had also come to light during the processing that the Estate had four “surprises.” Among the slaves that had been processed, four of them were transgendered. All four were male-to-female reassignments, and all of them were preoperative. They were given no special treatment as slaves, but the Estate's doctors did continue their hormonal therapies and oversaw their development. The four transgendered slaves would indeed be popular among some of the membership, that much was certain.

Another issue that had to be dealt with was that of slaves that had been smokers or drug abusers before their capture. Slaves were not allowed to smoke at all. Therefore, many of the slaves that had been regular smokers had to be relocated to a detox area for a few days while their systems cleared of the poisons in their veins. The detox area was very similar to the holding cells, but instead of stone walled cells, the slaves were kept in metal-barred cages. Each slave was force-fed over a gallon of water daily, they were kept under close supervision to monitor their recovery, and they were fed vitamin supplements daily to replace the nutrients they were losing from the poisons and the water cleansing. After four days of detoxification, the formerly smoking slaves were returned to their cells and to their regular training. If they suffered from withdrawal symptoms after the initial four days, then they were warned to keep the psychological effects in check or they would be held responsible for their behavior.

Drug users were another matter. Drugs, aside from the pharmaceuticals kept in the infirmaries and surgical rooms, were not permitted at the Estate. All members were screened for illegal substances as a requirement of their membership. All the slaves had been given drug tests along with the other blood work that was done. Any slaves found to have illegal drugs or narcotics in their systems were removed from the general population, interviewed thoroughly about what drugs they'd taken and their habit, if they had one. These slaves were then put into detox as well and monitored. Any slaves that displayed severe physical withdrawal symptoms were immediately executed as useless to the Estate. Fortunately, only four slaves were lost to this process. The rest of the drug users, which were only another three slaves, were allowed to return to normal population and activities after seven days of rehabilitation.

A young boy and girl were locked in a tight embrace. Their young, hairless, tattooed bodies were pressed together and their bodies, covered in droplets of perspiration, glided against each other as they moved together.

The boy, who had just turned fourteen a couple of months previously, and the girl, who was only a few months older than he, had been thrown together into a small, dark room shortly after their processing was completed. Under the watchful eye of the blonde woman that had recruited them from the swimming pool and a couple of armed guards, the two had been forced to copulate numerous times over the last three hours. The two teens had been forced onto the small bed, which was the only furnishing in the room, at gunpoint where the girl, Shelly, had been made to perform oral sex on the boy until he was hard enough to penetrate her, and then she was made to lie on her back and open her legs submissively as he forced his penis, covered in her saliva, into her young, virgin vagina. The first time was short, as this was the boy's first sexual experience as well. Despite the fear and despite the guards and the blonde woman watching, the boy finished in only a couple of minutes, his still-maturing cock jerking happily inside her as he ejaculated into her freshly-bloodied and tender vagina.

Shelly cried throughout the entire experience. She'd never before given a boy oral sex; she'd never even thought of it, to be honest. She was so mortified at this being her first sexual experience that she couldn't help but cry hopelessly. This was her first sexual experience and it was in these surroundings, under the watchful eyes of strangers, and after having been shaved and tattooed and told that she was now nothing more than a disposable piece of slave flesh, fit only for the pleasures of the men and women at this place.

It wasn't over, though. As soon as the boy came inside her, she was forced to suck him until he got hard again. She could taste her blood and a salty, bitter taste that she assumed was his cum as she sucked him. Then she was made to sit on his cock, as the blonde woman called it, and ride him until he came inside her again. After that time, she was forced again to suck him until he got hard. She was then told to get onto her hands and knees and to let him take her doggy style. It was so humiliating, having to get on her hands and knees like an animal in front of these people, and to have that boy behind her shoving his penis inside her again and again. She could feel her breasts swinging back and forth under her as he thrust in and out of her.

She hated her breasts. They'd been large since she was ten, and it seemed everyone paid attention to her because of them. The girls all seemed to hate her for having them and the boys all seemed to only stare at them. She'd started wearing sweaters to school, even in the summer, to hide them, but her mom had noticed and made her take them off and wear normal shirts.

Now, here she was on her hands and knees being screwed by one of those boys that likely had ogled her breasts as he spoke to her, if he spoke to her at all. A lot of boys didn't even seem to be able to form words when she spoke to them. She wasn't even sure of his name. She thought it was John, but it might have been Michael. He might have sat behind her in one of her classes, but she wasn't sure about that either.

Well, he sure as hell was behind her now. It seemed like he was trying to force his dick out the top of her head, he was going at her so hard. Finally, he shot into her for the third time and she collapsed forward, quietly praying there would be no more. She was sorely disappointed. Before she knew it, she had his dick in her mouth again and was sucking for all she was worth to make him hard again. He'd started to complain that it hurt to get hard again, but the blonde woman that had kidnapped them with all those soldiers had slapped him and told him to shut up. Soon enough, he was hard again and they were humping away in another position, then another, then another, and another, and another, and finally they were where they were now.

Her vagina was really aching. She'd stopped bleeding after about the fifth time, but now she was dry and raw. It felt like the boy was rubbing sandpaper inside her every time he entered her or moved inside her. She was crying again now, but this time it was more from the pain than the fear and humiliation. The boy had started to cry, too. Apparently, there were limits to how many times a boy could get his dick hard and make it cum.

Finally, he came again and rolled off to her side, exhausted. They were both panting and crying on the small bed. Each wanted something to drink, as they had been given nothing since they'd been brought here. Shelly wiped her eyes and wondered what would happen next.

“Well, was it everything you'd hoped it would be?” the blonde woman asked the boy, mocking him.

“What?” he asked shakily. Shelly rolled her eyes. She knew what the woman meant.

“Her,” the blonde woman said. “Was fucking her as good as you thought it would be?”

“No,” he answered. “Not like this. I wanted to have candles and a movie and stuff first. Or something anyway. But not like this.”

“Oh well, kiddo,” the blonde woman said with a chuckle. “You just said you were hard for her. I just made your fantasy come true.” She sighed and said, “You just can't please some people.”

“What happens to us now?” Shelly asked, fearing the worst.

The blonde woman turned to regard her. “Well, I'm glad you asked,” she said. “I'm not finished with either of you just yet. I've got the both of you for the next twenty hours or so and I plan to make the most of it.”

Both the boy and the girl gulped.

“We'll get you two cleaned up, and then we can move on to the next exciting part of your fun,” the blonde woman said. She motioned to the guards who took the teens from the bed and pushed them out the door and into a hallway. They blinked in the bright light, but couldn't take much time to let their eyes adjust before firm hands were pushing them down the hallway toward a stairway. Soon, they were led back to the shower room they'd gone through when they were processed. They were told to wash up and to be quick about it.

In almost no time, the boy and girl were being pushed down another hallway, and each was led into a separate room. These rooms were small and dark with one small bed, just like the one they had been in previously. As they were pushed into each room, the doors were closed and locked behind them, and they were each left to think on their new situation and to feel the aches in their bodies.

The door to Shelly's room opened only a few moments later and the blonde woman stepped in, followed by two large black men. Shelly didn't know it, but these were the same two black men to which the sisters had been given only days before. The door was closed and locked and the room was once again plunged into dimness.

“Got a new one for us?” one of the men asked the blonde woman. Both men laughed at the inside joke. The blonde woman didn't understand what they meant, so she ignored them.

“These men are her to take over where your boyfriend left off,” the blonde woman told Shelly. “They're going to make sure that you're nice and broken in before you go off to your cage.”

“Oh no!” she cried, her eyes wide looking at the two huge men. “No, please! I can't take anymore. I'll just die!”

The blonde woman shrugged. “Oh well,” she said nonchalantly. “If you die, we'll get another girl to replace you.”

The girls' mouth hung open. She didn't know what to say. She could only sit there on the small bed with the thin sheet clutched about her. Her mind couldn't fathom the position in which she now found herself. Unfortunately for her, it was all the time the two men needed to get their hands on her.

The two men tore the girl off the bed while the blonde woman moved to sit in a small wooden chair out of the way in a corner of the room. The girl shrieked in surprise as she was taken off the bed by force.

The two men forced her to her knees. One of them held her shoulder tightly while the other man unzipped his trousers and pulled out the longest, thickest dick Shelly had ever seen. Of course, it was only the second dick Shelly had ever seen, but still, she knew it was huge. Compared to the boy's dick, it was a monster.

As soon as the girl saw the dick in front of her, her jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” she said, her eyes as huge as saucers in amazement.

The man turned to his partner and said, “Damn. I'm getting that a lot these days. Maybe I should start fucking little white bitches more often.” Both men guffawed with laughter as the other man dropped his trousers to the floor.

Shelly could see the second man's penis was even bigger then the first. How big do they get , she wondered. If they get any bigger, I really will die from this .

Before she could react, the first man had her head in his big hands and was forcing his big dick into her mouth. It tasted salty and smelled a little sweaty, but that didn't bother the girl nearly as much as the thought of having this huge pecker in her mouth. It would barely fit. She had to stretch her lips around it to get it to fit.

While the first man was working as much of his cock into her mouth as he could without ripping her jaws open, the second man had taken her hand and was making her jerk him off. She could feel his huge dick getting hard in her hand and wondered if she'd have to put it in her mouth, too. And would it fit if she did?

Her answer came soon enough as her head was taken away from the first man and the second man shoved his even bigger dick into her mouth. She thought her mouth was going to be ripped apart, so wide was her jaw forced open by this mammoth thing. This was how she pictured having a horse's dick in her mouth would be, but a horse probably wouldn't be this big.

The two men took turns having Shelly blow them for several minutes, then they moved her to the bed. One man laid on the bed while the other man moved her into position straddling him. The man had pulled off his shirt and pants before lying down on the bed and she could now see his muscular body. He was a big man and she felt very small perched on top of him like a little canary. The man standing by the bed handed the man lying down below here a small bottle from the pocket of his pants, and then he, too, started to undress. The man under her reached between his legs, and underneath her, and squeezed some liquid stuff on his big dick. He rubbed the stuff all over his dick with his hand, and then used his fingers to rub the liquid on her vagina. The stuff was slippery, almost like cooking oil, but more watery. She realize he was lubing himself and her up to make it easier for his giant dick to penetrate her tiny vagina. She groaned and began to cry again.

“Don't cry, baby,” the man under her said. “The fun hasn't even started yet.”

She could feel the huge head of his dick against her vagina. She could feel the pressure as he began pushing into her. He held her hips to forced her down while he forced his hips upward. The lubricant did its work. She opened up for his massive black cock. The head of it slipped into her and her mouth dropped open again. She couldn't believe the feeling. This hurt more than anything she'd ever felt in her life. It was as if she was being torn open. She pictured a flagpole being stuck up inside her. That was the closest image that would come to her brain that seemed to fit how this felt. Then he pushed again and her world shattered. The thing had gone father into her, stretching her open even wider. She cried out now from the pain, but the man under her only grinned and pushed again. Her eyes rolled in her head. She didn't think she could take anymore of this. She was sure if he put anymore of his dick in her that it would come out of her mouth. But again he pushed, and again she was stretched, and again it was the most amazingly painful thing she'd ever felt. She shrieked out this time, feeling her whole belly being torn open by this massive intruder. She could move, she couldn't breathe, and after a moment she couldn't even cry out anymore. The wind had been effectively knocked out of her.

Then the huge thing was withdrawn slightly. She took in a breath as the pain subsided somewhat. Then the thing was back in her again, this time even farther than before. She could feel the black man's belly underneath her and she thought that might mean that he was all the way in her now. Despite the pain, her mind was still working. She was aware that she was crying out and that her vagina was on fire, but she could also see the man staring up at her and smiling as he tortured her with that part of his body. She felt sad, because she knew this wasn't right, but these men and that woman didn't seem to care about what was right and what was wrong. She was apparently just some object to them, a toy, to be used for their pleasures regardless of how much it hurt her. They had told her when she had been brought here that this would be what she was to be used for from now until she died. That made her feel even sadder and she really began to cry. She realized she'd never have a real boyfriend, or go to the prom, or get married, or win a soccer tournament. She'd spend the rest of her life doing what she was doing now: Screwing for other peoples' pleasures.

The man had begun to move her back and forth, his big dick going in and out of her again and again. Each time he did it, it hurt less, but it was still almost unbearable how it felt. She was surprised when she felt cold, slippery liquid being poured on her butt hole and rubbed around by the head of the other man's massive member.

“Oh my god! No! Please!” she begged, but it didn't do any good. Both men held her still while the larger of the two men worked his cock into her inch by agonizing inch. She screamed in earnest as her tight, tender anus was penetrated by this horrific piece of man meat.

Finally, it was all the way in, and she'd never felt so filled up in her life. She was still screaming as stabbing pains shot through her, now from both her nether areas. The men began moving her back and forth, faster and faster. She could feel both of their huge dicks inside her now, and each one created its own separate pain. She wailed the entire time they used her. They would push her forward and their dicks would almost totally be out of her, giving her a little room to breathe. Then they would push her backwards again and fill her back up. Whatever breath she'd taken, she would then use to scream as loud as she could. Eventually, after who knows how long, her world simply went dark and she fell forward limply.

She awoke later. How much later, she didn't know. She was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. She moved her hands down to her throbbing hips and tenderly tried to rub some of the pain away. Slick lube and sticky cum leaked from her vagina and her butt hole.

“Oh good. You're awake,” she heard from slightly above and behind her. She turned her head to see who had spoken. She saw a boot directly in front of her face. She craned her head up as best she could form her position on the floor, and attached to the boot was the blonde woman.

“I've been waiting here for half an hour for you to wake up,” the blonde woman said, looking down at the girl.

“The men... they're...” the girl said weakly, trying to form coherent thoughts.

“Oh, they're gone,” the blonde woman said. “They used you once, and then they switched places and used you again while you were passed out. I was a little disappointed in you. All that screaming you were doing really had me going, but then you passed out and ruined most of my fun. But then I saw those limp little arms and legs of your flopping around while those two big studs impaled you on their meat, and that got me going again really quickly. I must have cum five times watching you get your little cunt and ass reamed by those huge cocks.”

The woman paused and nudged the girl's head with her boot. “You're supposed to say ‘thank you' when someone pays you a compliment, you ill-mannered whore.”

The girl, in a fog of exhaustion, pain and shock, weakly said, “Thank you.”

“There's a good hole,” the blonde woman said, sitting back in the chair. “Now you've been good and broken in by those two big cocks. You might have some use around here.”

The girl said nothing. She simply laid there wishing the pain would go away. The blonde woman kicked her sharply in the forehead. Despite the pain, it actually served to wake the girl up somewhat, snapping her out of her stupor.

“God dammit!” the blonde woman snapped. “Learn some fucking manner, you stupid cunt. Say ‘thank you' when I pay you a compliment.”

“Thank you,” the girl said, clutching her head.

“Good. Now, get over here and eat my pussy,” the blonde woman said, pulling up her skirt and spreading her legs.

“What?” the girl asked, dazed.

“What? What do you mean ‘what?'” the blonde woman asked. “Get on your hands and knees and get your bald fucking head between my legs and eat out my snatch. Make me cum a few more times, you little whore. Then I'll let you go to your room.”

The girl was totally shocked. She didn't know what to think. This woman wanted her to put her mouth on her pussy. She knew women did that sort of thing, but not her. She couldn't even fathom putting her mouth on another girl's pussy.

“Hey!” the blonde woman said sharply, snapping her fingers a couple of times. “This isn't a god damned peep show. Get over here and eat me, you bitch, before I get those two guys back in here to beat you.”

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. Then she opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped again. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to lick this woman's pussy, but she sure didn't want to be beaten, either. Very slowly, very tentatively, she got to her hands and knees and crawled forward toward the blonde woman. When her head was only a few inches from the blonde woman's pussy, closer than the girl had ever been to any other woman's pussy, to be sure, the woman grabbed her head and pulled it forward so the girl's nose was buried right in her wet vagina.

“There's a girl. Now, eat that pussy,” the blonde woman said and opened her legs wider.

The girl began to lick at the slit as a cat might lick at a bowl of cream. She could taste the woman's warm, salty juices as she licked her.

“No. Not there,” the woman said. “Put your mouth right up against my clit and tongue it like you were french kissing your boyfriend.”

The girl brought her mouth down over the woman's vagina and probed around with her tongue until she felt a bump. She figured that must be her clit, so she started licking it and twirling her tongue over it like she'd done the one time she'd ever french kissed a boy. The woman started groaning, and the girl figured she was doing a good job, so she kept at it. Pretty soon, she had the woman moaning and squirming in the chair. The woman had her by the back of her head, driving her mouth hard against her pussy. It was hard for the girl to breathe, but she managed. The woman's juices were beginning to dribble down the girl's chin, but she didn't dare stop to try to wipe them off. She just kept her mouth going as she was instructed. After a few moments, the woman released her head and sat back in the chair panting.

“Oh shit,” the woman said breathlessly. “That was just what I needed.”

The woman pulled down her skirt and crossed the room to the door. She opened it and motioned to a man on the other side. The man, dressed in a grey shirt and blue jeans, stepped forward. The woman told him to take the girl to her room. The man nodded and entered the room as the woman walked away down the hallway. The man took the girl by the arm and pulled her to her feet. He pushed her out the door, closing it as they left. He then guided her back down to the basement and to the housing wing where she was to be kept. He opened her small cell and let her crawl inside. She curled up with her blanket and cried herself to sleep.

Shortly after she had finished with the girl, the blonde woman called from her cell phone to the room of the two black men. She asked if they were ready for another round. They answered that they were and she told them to meet her at the door to the boy's room this time. She was going to let them break him in as well. The men agreed; homosexuality wasn't really their thing, but a nice, tight ass and a blowjob were pretty much the same regardless from where they came.

In a couple of minutes, the two black men rounded the corner to the boy's room. The blonde woman was waiting for them outside the door. She asked if they were ready and each of them nodded and said they were. The woman opened the door and all three of them entered the room, quickly closing the door behind them and locking it.

The nude, bald, fourteen year-old boy was sitting on the floor against the wall farthest from the door when they entered. His eyes went as wide as saucers as he saw the three of them enter.

“Did... did you kill her?” the boy asked nervously.

“What?” the blonde woman asked curiously. “Kill her?”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “Did you kill Shelly?”

“Oh!” the blonde woman said, suddenly understanding. “Oh no. We didn't kill her. She's very much alive. She's probably in her new home by now.”

“With all that screaming I heard, I thought you'd killed her,” the boy said, obviously calming somewhat. “I figured it was my turn next.”

“Oh, it is your turn,” the woman said. “But trust me, we won't kill you either.”

She turned to the two black men and said, “Gentlemen.”

The two men moved forward and quickly lifted the boy to his feet. One of the men reached down and grabbed the boy by his testicles and led him to the center of the room. The boy cried out in pain, but followed. Not that he had any choice but to follow. The testicles were a very effective leash.

The blonde woman took a seat on a plastic chair in the corner of the room. She said, “These gentlemen are going to help break you in, as the saying goes. They're going to help you become properly acclimated to this place by helping you to discover your primary function during your time here.”

The boy was panicked. The events of the day had severely his innocent mind. To be kidnapped, taken to a strange place, shaved, tattooed, cleaned, forced to fuck the girl he'd been infatuated with for over a year, and then this was a lot for his mind to grasp. He wasn't sure what the woman meant by what she'd said, but he was almost certain it wouldn't be a good thing for him.

He didn't need to ask what was going to happen next. One of the black men, the one not holding his balls, was taking off his pants. The boy's eyes almost bugged out of his head. The man was a big man, but when he took off his pants the boy understood a new definition of the word big. The big black man wasn't even hard and his dick was probably twice the size of the boy's.

“Oh god. No!” the boy shouted, seeing the huge cock freed from the big black man's pants. He suddenly knew what the woman meant by ‘his place.' He was about to be raped by these huge men. He tried to wrest the man's hand off his balls or to squirm away, but the man only squeezed tighter, causing his already sore genitals to ache even more.

“Oh yes,” the woman said. “You're not going anywhere, boy. Don't even try to get away. You're going to stay right here and satisfy these two gentlemen and me, by proxy. It's going to be a real treat watching this. I'll bet you've never even had a single gay fantasy in your life, have you?”

The boy couldn't speak. He was in shock at what was happening. Before his mind could comprehend his new circumstances, the big black man had closed his thick hand around the back of the boy's neck and was forcing him to his knees. The boy tried to resist, but he may as well have been trying to hold up a mountain. It was inevitable and shortly he was on his knees with a large, flaccid black cock string him in the face. He noticed the other man was now taking off his pants as well. He would have to service them both, just like the woman had said.

The man forced the boy to look at his cock as he took it in one hand and moved it toward his mouth. He tried to push it into the boy's mouth, but the boy refused to open and allow the massive member entry into his oral cavity. The man squeezed the back of the boy's neck hard until finally the boy opened his mouth. Into the boy's mouth the head of the black cock went. The black man, still holding the boy's neck, used his head as a kind of masturbation device, pumping it back and forth over the head of his cock until it started to get hard.

The boy was amazed, even through his terror, at how big this man's dick was. When it got hard, it stretched the boy's jaws and lips open wide. He could barely take the head in his mouth, but the black man was forceful. He worked about three inches of his huge tool into the boy's mouth before the other man took the boy by the neck and slid his cock into the boy's mouth.

This man's cock was not as large as the other man's, but it was still huge. This man was also using the boy's head as a masturbation tool. Soon enough, he was getting hard, too. He forced more of his big dick into the boy's mouth than the previous man had, making the boy choke and gag as his mouth was raped.

The man abruptly removed his cock from the boy's mouth and dragged him roughly to his feet. He forced the boy onto the bed, and then onto his hands and knees. Each man took a position at either end of the boy. The larger man was behind the boy and the smaller man knelt at the boy's head. The boy tried to beg for mercy, but the man just squeezed his neck and shoved his dick back into the boy's mouth. This time the man was relentless. He shoved his dick into the boy's mouth until it slipped down the boy's throat. The boy tried to gag, tried to turn his head, tried to get the huge black cock out of his mouth and throat, but it was useless. The black man raped the boy's small mouth and throat, stretching them both wide open

Suddenly, the boy felt something cold and slippery being applied liberally to his butt hole. His mind reeled. The other, bigger man was about to rape him anally and there was nothing he could do about it. While the first man's cock continued its relentless assault on the boy's mouth and throat, the second man rubbed the head of his huge cock in the lubricant at the boy's anus. Without a word, the man pushed at the boy's small, tight, tender asshole, trying to force his cock into the boy.

The boy could feel the pressure and tried to keep the intruder out of his body. He'd never thought of another man having sex with him at all. He considered himself to be completely straight. Now here he was with one man's cock in his mouth and another man about to penetrate his ass. He started to cry for the first time since the rape began. He sobbed in the helpless humiliation in which he found himself. It was too much to bear. He couldn't take it anymore, or so he thought. Then, the head of the black man's penis slipped into his asshole.

The boy screamed into the other man's cock. The pain was awful. It was a thousand times worse than anything he could have imagined it to be. He tried to move, but the man held his hips and continued to work the huge tool into his ass. The black man forced more and more of his huge cock into the boy while the boy continued to scream as the other man pummeled his mouth and throat with his cock. The two men, it seemed, could care less how much they were hurting the boy. The were going to fuck and use him, and that was all that was to be said about it.

The large man eventually worked his entire cock into the boy's ass, literally tearing the boy open in the process. The boy's ass bled as the man fucked him mercilessly. The boy continued to sob into the other man's cock and the man continued to fuck his mouth and throat. The boy's throat began to feel raw and sore, but the longer the man continued to slide his huge cock into his throat, the less it seemed it made the boy want to puke.

After several minutes of abuse, which seemed like hours to the boy, the man raping the boy's ass orgasmed with a deep grunt, filling the boy's battered ass with his cum. The other man, only a few moments later came down the boy's throat. Without a single word to the boy or the woman, the men dressed and left the room. The boy was now left alone with the sadistic blonde woman.

“Well,” she said from her seat on the chair. “That looked like fun. How did it feel?”

The boy could say nothing. He just laid there and groaned. His throat hurt and his ass was on fire. He just knew he'd been permanently damaged.

“Not in the mood to chat?” the woman asked. “Well, fine. I'll just have to have you removed to your new home. Maybe I'll come and have more fun with you when you're in a more receptive mood.” She rose from her chair and opened the door. She called for a work slave and had the boy escorted to a doctor, and then to his cell upon his clean bill of health.

The doctor deemed the boy's anal wounds minor, cleaned him up, and sent him on his way. The slave took the boy to one of the small cells and locked him in where the boy curled up in a throbbing ball and sobbed until he finally fell into a fitful sleep. His life had changed forever.

Over the next couple of weeks, many of the slaves began to accept what was happening to them. They knew they had no choice but to cooperate with their captors if they wished to live. These slaves quickly learned that compliance had its benefits.

Many slaves, however, did not adapt so well to their new surroundings. The founding members of the Estate knew quite well how to deal with these slaves, though. Many were tortured, beaten, and raped mercilessly in a concentrated effort to break their spirits and instill in them that compliance was far more preferable to noncompliance. Many got the hint after little time in the torture rooms, other broke after a few days, and still others broke after a week or so of constant battery. A few, only seven of the remaining slaves, were deemed too reticent to be trained. These six male and one female slaves were summarily executed and butchered for food. The rules would be followed at the Estate or the disobedient slaves would die. It was that simple, and there were no exceptions.

Truly, the founders of the Estate were a lot more patient than they could have been, given the extent of the current slave population. It would have been easier to have simply executed the noncompliant slaves after they did not accept their places at the Estate after only a few days, but Jonathan Clark did not want to do that. He wanted to try and keep as many slaves as possible through the opening. After that, the reigns could really be tightened and all noncompliance could be stamped out immediately. Slaves were easily replaceable, and fresh meat was always required.

Now that the processing of large groups were finished, the number of volunteers housed permanently at the Estate had been reduced significantly. An entire array of shavers, tattoo appliers, and janitors were no longer needed to run the facilities. All volunteers were, of course, allowed to maintain memberships at the Estate, and at significantly reduced membership fees.

The membership fees at the Estate could be staggering, depending on what level of membership a person wanted to have. The most basic membership, which consisted of access to four of the Estate's events per year and the use of slaves and facilities during those events only, cost twenty thousand US dollars. The basic membership didn't even come with a room in the Estate. A basic-level member could stay overnight in a guest room, which were the same rooms the mercenaries were presently using, but a basic member could spend no more than one night at a time at the Estate without being asked to upgrade his membership status and pay the fees for the next-higher rank.

A simple, basic room at the Estate cost two hundred thousand US dollar a year. A member purchasing a room, however, was allowed to stay at the Estate as long as he wished, participate in all events, come and go as he saw fit and leave his room unoccupied for as long as necessary. As long as that person's membership dues were paid, his room would be held indefinitely.

The highest level of membership, aside from those of the founding members, was the Royal Platinum membership. This membership came with a seven room suite in the Estate, a private jet and limousine service to all Estate events, and a personalized contingent of only the most beautiful and well-trained S-class slaves. The price tag for the Royal Platinum membership is extraordinary, but the Estate presently had seven Royal Platinum members and room for five more if any wealthy ladies or gentlemen indicated an interest in such a membership.

Volunteers were each given permanent semi-private rooms of the kind the mercenaries presently used. In exchange for their services, the Estate waived ninety-nine percent of the required membership fees. The Estate also paid their volunteers for services provided, and paid quite well. Paying volunteers to the Estate from corporate payrolls of companies owned by members of the Estate was easy enough and legitimate enough to not attract attention. Diversity was also a key component in payroll assessment and assignment. A securities firm might not be easily able to explain why they need an artist on their payroll, but a gallery owner certainly could. Thus funds were diverted from a founding member's art gallery to pay the twenty tattoo artists the Estate used during the mass processing sessions. In return, the Estate purchased one hundred of the gallery's best pieces to cover the member's costs. One hand in the Estate washed the other.

The Estate presently boasted just over two hundred members from all over the world. These were paying members only. Not included in this figure were the thirty-one “idea men and women” that designed the Estate, fronted the capitol for the building, grounds, and staff, and were presently overseeing the smooth furnishing and running of the Estate as well as the satisfactory training of all the slaves. Those thirty-one people were the founding members. Founding members, of course, paid no fees and had the final say in any situation that developed within the Estate. The founding members were also responsible for ensuring the paying members' comfort during their stays. If a paying member requested a wine that was not found in the Estate's cellars, then a founding member would be responsible for making sure that wine was on site and available to the paying member at the earliest possible time. Therefore, the founding members ran the Estate, but also guaranteed members' satisfaction during their time on the premises. Again, one hand washed the other.

A routine had certainly developed in the Estate. An efficient routine, a constant routine, a routine of strict discipline and uncompromising obedience. The Estate would open soon and all would be in order for the grand opening event. There would be no mistakes during the opening. Jonathan Clark would see to that, even if he had to flay a hundred slaves alive in front of the others as examples. The opening event would be a grand spectacle; one to be remembered through the ages.

The Collectors Estate

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