A Year of Slavery

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape and
torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or who is offended by such
material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is
purely coincidental. I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all
flames will be ignored.

A Year of Slavery # 1-1

"Caught And The Contract"

by: debs

Edited by: Johnny P

My day began as any normal Saturday, no work, up at 6 a.m. doing my chores. I
knew John would be arriving around noon, no time for me, football first. Usually
I look forward to our Saturdays at home. This one was to be quit different. I am
always trying to find ways to get out, this day I would be begging to stay at
home.

I knew I would be entertaining at least two men and four women this night. I
knew also that I must get some of the little unpleasant tasks out of the way.
With heavy heart and many anxieties, I began. It was only 9 a.m., three hours to
myself, I was already wishing I had stayed in bed longer since I had a good idea
how bad this night could turn out for me.

The first thing I knew I had to do was to go into the bathroom and start getting
myself cleaned out. I was told to start the night before with a light meal and a
mild laxative, but this time especially my nerves did the job for me. I had a
very nervous stomach and no appetite whatever. The best I was able to get down
was some broth. I awoke with the same feelings in my stomach as the previous
night but knew I needed some nourishment. With what I assumed lay ahead it was
not a good idea to eat very much but decided on some tea and toast. The less I
had in me the better. From previous experience I knew I would need as much
strength and endurance as possible, so I doubled my normal vitamin intake. I
went into the bathroom and from the vanity took out the small chest which
contained my enema equipment. At times I have had many pleasurable experiences
with this chest but now looked at it with much disdain. I knew what must be
done. I filled the bag with about a quart of the hottest water I could stand and
3 capfuls of Dr. Bonners soap. This was a little severe but would help later. I
hung it on the side of the shower let the air out of the tube and closed the
clamp. I looked at the nozzle which was not all that large and realized it would
be to my advantage to start stretching myself on my own and at my own pace. The
chest had an assortment of tips and nozzles from which I selected one of the
largest. At least I would be gentle on myself. I attached it to the dangling
hose and spread a generous amount of K-Y all over it. This was one of the
biggest I had but knew it was of medium size to them. As I spread the lubricant
I could only hope this procedure would be followed later.

I removed my robe and reached behind myself to spread the K-Y into my rectum. In
doing so I caught site of myself in the mirror. All I could do was stare and for
a brief moment hate the statuesque image that reflected back at me. This was one
time I wished I did not possess my 5ft. 8in., 120lb, 34-20-34 body with natural
blonde hair. Maybe if I was plain and ordinary they would not want me.

I slowly got myself down on the floor and turned onto my side getting as
comfortable as I could. I reached over, took the nozzle and started to slip it
very carefully inside myself. At first it was painful so I took a deep breath
and gave a gentle push. It hurt but I knew worse was to come. After a lot of
twisting, pushing and gasping the nozzle was in place. I thought how in the past
I had larger objects in my ass but this was very uncomfortable. It was probably
a subconscious fear of what I knew was to come. My nerves were getting the best
of me.

All I needed to do was slide my hand up and release the clamp. I did not want
to, but knew I must. As the hot water hit me I tried with all my will to relax.
I get enemas on a regular basis and have even learned to enjoy them. This one
was different. This was not for my pleasure or for Johns. This was to start to
clean me out for what would be done to me. As the water continued to flow I
began to think of what had caused me to be in this predicament.

I had embezzled a large sum of money from the company I worked for. The theft
was discovered and I was given a simple choice. Become a sex slave to Mr. and
Mrs. Winston or face five years in prison. As I lie on the floor I became
overwhelmed with my plight. The worst part was there was no good reason for me
to steal the money. I never needed all those clothes, shoes and jewelry.

I felt the pressure in my stomach along with a severe cramp so I looked up at
the bag and saw that it was empty. I removed the nozzle, turned on my back and
let the solution in me do its work. This was the first of at least three enemas
I would have to administer to myself before John arrived. Mrs. Winston was very
explicit as to her requirements and would know if I did not follow instructions.
The last thing I wanted was to give her reason to cause me any more pain, There
would be enough. After about ten minutes of retaining this mixture I could not
hold it any longer. As I sat on the bowl I thought of the problem with John. He
could not know. I would have to make him leave as early as possible by telling
him I was tired and did not feel up to par. Lately I was treating him very badly
but he did not know why, he could never know.

It is not easy to take one enema after another but I had no choice. This one was
to be a half gallon of hot water. I was told that the more I take now and the
hotter it is, the easier for me later. As I began to refill the bag I could not
help looking at myself in the mirror. My attention was brought to my breasts. I
had always been very proud of their voluptuous 34-D size, but now remembered the
pain they were forced to endure. As I stared at them I recalled the last session
with the Winstons and the Dr. The tremendous pain, and yet almost no visible
evidence.

This time the nozzle went into me a little easier. As I opened the clamp I tried
to forget what was to happen tonight and what happened two weeks ago. I told
myself to just relax and take this second hellish enema. The water was hotter
than I had imagined and was causing me to sweat over my entire body. The pain in
my lower abdomen was becoming almost unbearable but I knew it was opening me for
whatever they had in store.

Mrs. Winston was very pleased as she summoned me to her office on Thursday
afternoon. She handed me a note and a package which detailed my preparations for
Saturday night. After a lot of verbal abuse and mental torture she very
sarcastically told me how much they looked forward to my first visit. Her last
words were those of warning to follow her instructions of preparation to the
letter.

I had never had this much water in me before and was now in severe pain, but the
half gallon was now in. As I looked down at my stomach the horror became
apparent. It looked as if I were at least four or five months pregnant. Blue
veins were crisscrossing my lower abdomen. I had not even began to try and get
up when the instructions for my next preparation enema crashed into my head.
Three quarts very hot. As I sat on the bowl feeling as if my insides were being
ripped from my body I knew I had no choice but to obey. As I sat and found
instant relief I wondered as to some of the instructions I had been given. What
were the plans they had for me. Why all these enemas. I learned during my visit
to the Drs. about some of the games these people played. I remembered the anal
abuse I suffered. That's why all this preparation was instilling a feeling of
deep fear. I feared I was to learn things I did not want to know.

As I remained on the bowl my mind drifted to Mrs. Winstons note. The detailed
instructions for the enemas. The way she described how I was to douche myself.
The details for hair and make-up. Her order to wear the clothes provided in the
package. What was in the package? I hadn't even looked. I kept thinking of
different comments she had made during the past week. Many made no sense while
other things made all to much sense. She purposely made me know about the four
women. Her, Goldie, the Dr. but who else? Would it possibly be the Warden?

She knew from my first experience with them how much I hated being touched and
violated by a woman. The men would be terrible but I feared the women would be
more vicious and sadistic. Then there was the sex. I had never in my life been
with a woman and now I would be forced to perform the most degrading acts
imaginable.

I glanced at the clock, 10:30, I had about an hour and a half. As I filled the
bag for the third and final time I wondered to myself how I would take three
quarts, it seemed impossible but I knew I must try no matter how painful.

Just as I was about to insert the nozzle the phone rang. John, "hi honey, no
nothing is wrong, your not coming, your back again". As much as I wanted him,
maybe this was a blessing in disguise. After a brief conversation I agreed to
speak with him later. As much as I hated doing so I knew I would have to put him
off with some excuse. Maybe going to see my mother or sister or maybe use the
old shopping routine. He would be angry and accuse me of as he put it "jerking
him off". Tomorrow when he called I would pretend to be sick, bad stomach as
usual. I would probably not want to talk, just stay in bed and try and
recuperate from the nights ordeals. But these were things John could not know.
The third enema was a nightmare. I had never taken anything nearly this large
and after two quarts I considered stopping it. My stomach was so swollen I
feared it would burst. It filled me so completely that it caused a tremendous
pressure on all my internal organs. I was afraid to look down for fear of what I
might see. As I did so, to my amazement my breasts seemed to be much larger than
normal. It was then that I realized how difficult it was just to breathe. It
seemed my intestines were pushing up into my lungs. I immediately reached for
the clamp to stop the flow before I passed out. As I laid on the floor gasping
for breath I knew I could not take any more. As I removed the nozzle and
struggled to the bowl Mrs. Winstons note came to mind. How would doing this to
myself help me later?

After spending quite a long time in the bathroom I finally came back to myself.
The best thing I could do now was try and get some rest. I felt guilty about
what I was doing to John, but knew it was best. I made a cup of tea and went
into the bedroom. As was my habit I put on the T.V. mainly for some sound. This
is one of the small quirks that comes with living alone. Making myself as
comfortable as possible I realized how strange enemas were. Just a few minutes
ago I was in terrible pain and now it was almost gone. No marks, no bruises just
excruciating pain when it is being forced into you. I thought of one of Mrs.
Winstons comments to me. No permanent damage, no lasting bruises but the pain
would make you pray for death. Why did they want to hurt me? This was all
explained when I was caught and offered the deal. These people were very wealthy
and had all that money could buy. But they were bored and had become very jaded
in their games. From what I had known they had traveled extensively. Had a large
mansion in the suburbs of Long Island. Owned expensive cars, horses a yacht and
who knows what else. But they were bored.

Somehow after trying many different forms of sexual activity they found
excitement in S & M. As if some disease of the wealthy some of their friends
shared the same interest. When my crime had been discovered they seized the
opportunity. I was summoned into Mr. Winstons office and confronted with the
evidence. I was the company bookkeeper and tried to explain how he was mistaken.
It was then that Mrs. Winston showed me all the checks I had forged and ledgers
I had altered. My heart sank and I knew I was caught. I remember looking around
for the police. It was then that they explained my plight. All they had to do
was make one phone call and I would be arrested. With all the evidence they had
there was no question as to my being convicted of a class A felony. It was
explained in graphic detail how I would serve five years in a womans
penitentiary. It was also made very clear as to how they would use their
considerable influence to guarantee I would be sent to the worst. I was also
told how they could make sure I would receive the harshest treatment possible.
As it happened the Wardress was a personal friend of Mrs. Winston and would
oversee my stay. The picture they were painting was indeed a bleak one. As long
as I live I will never forget what happened next. Mrs. Winston as casually as if
ordering a cup of coffee said, "but you have a choice". Her voice dripped of
sarcasm and she had a devilish grin on her face. I was informed that if I agreed
to become their slave and follow all orders for a period of one year all would
be forgotten and I could even keep the money. I could not believe what I was
hearing, slave. I was speechless. The look on my face must have told of my
amazement at what she was saying. The only word I was able to get out was slave.
It was at this point she pulled up a chair and with a smile began to explain.
She told me how they and a close group of friends who enjoyed using females in
various ways. Many of the phrases she used were foreign to me. S & M, B & D,
Watersports, Beastiality, Fisting, Forced sex, Medical torture. I felt the blood
drain from my head and the room begin to spin. This amused the couple and they
both had a great laugh at my reaction. After my color returned and they were
done with their comments Mrs. Winston continued.

She explained how I would have to present myself at their home once a month on a
Saturday for one year. I was also told about being fitted for some special
articles of clothing. And last but far from least the extensive medical
examinations. She went on to further explain how they would have to be sure I
was strong enough to take what they would be doing to me. But she stressed, for
their own protection, it would have to be determined that I was disease free. I
would have to continue working for them. I could go on with my life as usual
except for a few minor changes.

After listening to what she was saying I jumped from the chair and ran for the
door. It was locked. I demanded the door be opened and told them they were both
very sick people. Their response was just to laugh at me. They calmly explained
that there was no place I could run to. I was told that if I desired the police
would be summoned immediately. It was then that Mr. Winston suggested that I sit
back down and hear the rest of what they had to say.

I was handed a large envelope and told to go home and study its contents. I was
also informed that I would be under surveillance at all times and my phone calls
would be monitored. If I tried to run away I would be arrested and all their
threats carried out.

I could not find any comfort or peace here in my bed. My mind was riding a
roller coaster. The fear of what would happen tonight. The memories of what had
been done already. As I stared at the ceiling my mind wandered back to that day
when I was confronted by the Winstons. I remembered leaving them sitting in his
office looking at me as if I were a side of beef. As I picked up the envelope I
was told to study, I glanced first at Mr. Winston and then at her. The
expressions on both their faces turned my knees to jelly. Their eyes, cold as
ice pierced into my very soul.

I recalled how I had struggled home making sure to double lock the door behind
me, as if that would help. The memories of all I had heard. The stupidity of
what I had done. How did I think I could get away with it? I thought of the home
shopping channel and cursed the day it was invented. If it wasn't for my need to
buy what I really didn't need I wouldn't be in this situation now. Also the fact
that John had warned me many times made me feel even worse.

The memories of the envelope came to mind. They were smart and knew exactly what
they were doing. The contents were copies of all the forged checks, altered
ledgers and a video cassette. A note on the cassette simply read this shows what
may happen to you in prison. I remembered how my hand was shaking so violently,
I couldn't get it into the VCR. After watching for only a few moments I was in a
state of complete shock. It depicted woman of all shapes and sizes. All ages
from young to old, and of all races. The one thing they all shared was a blank
stare. As the tape continued I saw the cells and the horrible living conditions.
The next scene showed about two dozen women in a shower. They had no privacy and
were herded in like so many cattle. It was in looking at some of the close ups
that I realized that a lot of the faces looked much older than the bodies to
which they belonged. The faces all indicated a tremendous amount of suffering.
My eyes were riveted to the screen. It was then that something caught my eye. As
if they had read my mind the camera came to focus on a big well built red head.
She seemed to be about my own age but it was impossible to tell. As she washed,
I was shown her body from every angle. What I saw made me gasp out loud. She was
covered with welts and bruises. Her back, ass, legs, thighs, stomach and breasts
were covered with whip marks.

Next I saw a young blonde girl who appeared to be a little more than a teenager.
Her body was covered with the same type of marks. I was literally mesmerized by
the images on the TV screen. As I was trying to digest the images before me the
scene changed.

It showed 2 big black female guards dragging an attractive middle aged Spanish
woman down a dark corridor. The sound was of poor quality but it was easy to
hear that she was screaming and begging. I was able to make out some of her
words. "No please not again, I will do whatever you want". As a door came into
view she screamed "please don't torture me again I can't take any more, just
tell me what to do". Then a door opened revealing a dimly lit room filled with
many different objects. As the lights from the camera illuminated the room I was
able to make out what some of these objects were. I saw an assortment of strange
tables and benches. Ropes and chains hung from the ceiling. A large wooden chair
came into focus. From it dangled several broad leather straps. Hanging near the
chair were what looked like electrical wires with large alligator clips on the
end. Next the camera moved to a wall from which hung a huge array of whips,
paddles, canes, rope, chain, handcuffs of different sizes and dozens of things I
could not identify.

As the camera showed the room I could hear screams in the background. The scene
returned to the Spanish woman. She was hanging from a chain attached to her
handcuffs. Her dress had been removed leaving her in bra and panties. At that
moment one of the black guards took a small knife and cut the bra from her body.
At that point I had to look away. Her breasts were a mass of angry looking
bruises. A strange voice brought my attention back to the screen. It belonged to
a beautiful but for some reason very evil looking woman. She appeared to be very
tall and large, not fat just large. I had no idea who she was or what she was
doing in this room. I guessed her age to be about fifty. Her black hair was done
in the latest style and her suit was Chanel. Even on the TV screen looking at
her sent a shudder through me. I know now how right I was.

The expression on the face of the Spanish woman was one of terror. As she said
her next words a lot of things became clearer to me. "Please Wardress, don't let
them torture me again". I immediately remembered the comment Mrs. Winston made
about the Wardress being a personal friend. Could this be her. My mind was not
able to digest all I had just seen and heard. I shut off the VCR. Now as I laid
twisting and turning I remembered the night I sat viewing the tape. I remembered
thinking that this was impossible. This is 1996. Things like this don't happen.
They don't treat people like this in prison. Do they? I remember how after
sitting in the dark for a few minutes, something inside me made me turn the VCR
back on.

The Spanish woman kept begging the Wardress to be released. She promised to do
whatever anyone wanted of her. To my disbelief I heard her say, "let me eat all
the guards. They can all fuck me if they want to. Tell them they can fuck me in
the ass with the big dildos. I'll never say no again". I stared at the screen as
if in a trance. The bound woman continued to beg the Wardress to give her
another chance. The camera captured the panic on the face of the bound woman as
well as the icy stare of the Wardress.

I had a very hard time grasping everything the Spanish woman was saying. I was
not unaware of certain sexual practices but what I heard next was hard to
believe. She had a nervous look on her face as she turned her face toward the
woman and said "they can all watch me fuck the dogs, they won't have to force me
this time. then I'll eat them all". I was completely taken aback by what she had
just said. How could she volunteer to do such a thing? What had they done to her
to bring her to this point? Was this a prison or an insane asylum?

I continued to watch as the Wardress talked to her guards. After a time she
turned back to the hanging woman and told her "you will be given the opportunity
to do everything you said, but first you must be punished for disobeying the
guards orders". The woman started to scream and rip at her shackled wrists. This
brought a round of laughter from the Wardress and two guards. The hanging woman
was becoming more frantic. She kept yelling "no more torture, please. I'm still
hurting from the last time". The Wardress was unaffected by her pleas. She just
turned to the guards and said "put her on the table on her back, I want to work
on those tits again". The guards were on the bound woman in an instant. Her
handcuffs were released and she was being dragged across the room. Her cries and
screams could not be understood. I watched as she was thrown onto a wooden table
and quickly strapped into place. Her arms and legs were pulled to the ends and
thick straps were attached. Another strap was brought across her chest just
under her breasts. Satisfied the guards stepped back.

The camera came into focus on the Wardress. As I kept watching I felt my heart
pounding in my chest. Is this what could happen to me I kept asking myself? Is
this for real? Maybe its some kind of act for my benefit? My attention went back
to the screen. The Wardress had removed her own jacket and was now removing her
blouse. There she stood in a long black bra and skirt. She was indeed more
beautiful than I had first thought. She was a large woman in more ways than one.
Her massive breasts swelled over the top of her bra. This image made me totally
shudder. The idea of this woman having total control of me for five years. What
would she make me do and what could she do to me?

The camera again focused on the poor bound woman. She struggled as much as the
straps allowed. There were tears now visible on her face. As I watched a tray
was wheeled over to the table by one of the guards. The Spanish woman again
began to speak, "Please don't do my tits again, do something else. Beat me
instead, put the water in me. Use the needles on me, look what they did to my
tits already". The Wardress just smiled at her and said "they did nothing
compared to what I'll do bitch. You will learn to obey me and my guards". She
then picked up what looked like a piece of rubber garden hose and showed it to
the helpless woman. The response was one of complete panic. I watched as she
thrashed around and tried to tear free of the straps which held her. The
Wardress brought the hose up over her head and in a swift motion swung it
downwards crashing into the victims breasts. This was repeated a number of times
bringing almost inhuman cries of agony. No part of her breasts were spared, the
tops, bottoms, sides and even the nipples received the whipping. Finally the
wardress put the hose down. The camera showed a very clear picture of this
torture. Both breasts seemed to swell before my eyes and turn an angry dark blue
color. I heard the woman gasping for breath as I watched her whole chest heaving
in the tight bonds. After a time the bound woman stopped screaming and said
through her tears "you dyke cunt, someday I'll kill you". This only brought more
laughter. Finally the Wardress looked down at her and said "I see you haven't
learned your lesson yet". She turned to one of the guards and said "bring me the
long needles, I'll teach her to threaten me". I could not watch anymore. The
tape had served its purpose. Anything would be better than spending five years
in this hellhole, or so I thought at that time. It was clear the Winstons had me
just where they wanted me. They knew after seeing the contents of the envelope I
would submit to their demands.

I remained in bed and remembered how I went to work the following day. After
trying in vain to get on with my job the intercom on my desk rang, it was Mr.
Winston. I recalled how in a perfectly normal tone of voice he summoned me to
his office. I was asked if I had studied the contents of the envelope. With my
eyes to the floor I replied that I had. He then asked if I had come to a
decision. I recalled how I could not look up at him and the way I stood
shuffling my feet. It took a long time for the words to reach my lips. All I
could say was "you win". He sarcastically told me he thought I would see it
their way and would now call his wife. He then instructed me to get back to work
and not leave at 5 o'clock, but to come to his office to go over the
arrangements of our deal as he put it.

In the days following that first meeting there were several others. I was made
to sign a complete confession and even had to sign a contract stating I was
willing to become their slave for a period of one year. Mrs. Winston was present
at all the meetings. Many times I would catch her looking at me in very strange
ways. This always sent a shiver down my spine. She would look at me as if to
undress me with her eyes. Several times she would look directly at me and
comment how she could not wait to get her hands on me. How she would make me
beg. How she would make me scream.

The phone startled me back to the present. It was John. No one else ever called
on this line. I would have to think fast. "Hi hon, how do you feel, that's good,
your downstairs watching the game, no nothings wrong". He was becoming
suspicious. I would have to come up with something fast. Offense is always the
best defense. I calculated my next comment carefully. "Oh you can talk now,
isn't your wife home". I knew from past experience this would begin an argument.
"I know I said we could talk later, but I decided to go out for awhile". At this
point I knew he was getting pissed off. After a few more words back and forth he
hung up on me as usual. He must think I'm a real bitch, if he only knew the real
reason.

Time was standing still. I wished I was able to tell John the trouble I was in,
but knew I could not. I prayed he never find out. It was becoming increasingly
difficult to come up with valid excuses. My time was growing scarce. The
Winstons were finding more tasks for me, and I needed time to recuperate from my
ordeals. So far the physical healing was a little easier than the mental
healing. I was able to blame a lot on job pressures. I complained of being tired
and not feeling well. I used every excuse I could think of. Bad stomach,
headaches, bad periods, fatigue, boredom, alone too much, executive burn out, I
used them all. I was not proud of myself for what I was doing but it was better
than the truth.

I got a fresh cup of tea and went back into the bedroom. Again I tried to close
my eyes and get some rest but the thoughts kept coming back. My thoughts drifted
to the day Mrs. Winston came into the office accompanied by her maid Goldie.
This was not at all unusual and at first I did not give it a second thought. I
tried to keep the arrival as normal as possible for the sake of all the others
in the office. As I greeted them both I immediately noticed the difference in
Goldie. I had seen and spoke to her many times during the years I worked for Mr.
Winston. She had always been very warm and friendly and I even thought of her as
somewhat of a friend. But now she was different. She always reminded me a little
of Oprah, big and jolly, warm friendly smile. Now she just gave me a cold,
knowing stare. As I glanced up at her I caught that familiar look, she seemed to
be undressing me with her eyes. Could she be part of this too, I would soon find
out.


I called Mr. Winston on the intercom and announced his wives arrival. He told me
to let her in and also come in myself. Goldie followed. Once in his office and
away from the rest of the staff their attitude changed. Again I was only their
slave. Mrs. Winston was brief and to the point. I was told that after work I was
to go with her and Goldie for my first physical. Mrs. Winston told me she had
made an appointment with her gynecologist for my first exam. I went into a state
of shock. Was the time for the so called parties here. I did not know what to
say or do. The first thing that came to mind was to tell Mrs. Winston that I had
my own Dr. and would be more comfortable with him. I said I would go to him and
give her a full report on anything she wanted. I was reminded of some obscure
paragraph in the contract I had signed. Submit to physical testing at a Dr. of
the Winstons choice. They had me more than I realized. I had no choice but to
obey. After thinking a second the only reply I had was "yes mam". My reply
brought an instant smile to both Mr. and Mrs. Winston. She looked at me with
that look I was becoming more familiar with and said "good bitch, your learning,
now go with Goldie and she will help you get ready. "Oh, and one more thing, do
whatever she tells you to, you are her slave as well as ours". Her words ripped
through me like a hot knife. I was mortified. Goldies slave too. I protested
loudly. "I did not agree to any such thing". As if ready for me Mr. Winston took
a copy of my contract from a locked file. He quickly read a clause that stated,
I could be given to anyone at their direction to be used as a slave in any way
they saw fit. After he read it he handed it to me and pointed to the clause and
my signature. They had me again. Here I was not only the plaything of the
Winstons and whom ever else, but also Goldie, a black maid.

A Year of Slavery # 1-2

"Caught And The Contract"

As I followed Goldie through the large office complex to the ladies room my
plight became more bizarre. As we entered I was about to remind Goldie of our
long friendship and inquire how she was involved. Before I could speak a
syllable she turned and said "strip bitch". The usually soft gentle voice had
turned hard and commanding. I became instantly fearful of this large black
woman. She reminded me of the two black guards in the prison film I had been
given. From the look on her face I knew there was nothing I could do but obey.
She had the same look as the guards who had been torturing the poor Spanish
girl.


As I fumbled with the buttons of my dress I noticed for the first time that
Goldie was carrying a large attache case. This was put on a sink and I was told
to speed it up. As I removed the dress and stood in bra, pantyhose and heels a
very strange feeling came over me. A feeling of total embarrassment. I had been
nude in front of women before in dressing rooms and such but this was different.
I had never been ordered. I had never been owned.


Goldie studied me for a minute and loudly said "everything bitch, take it all
off". Was this to be my new name. They seemed to use it very freely. I would
later learn it was better than most of the names I was called.

Afraid to do anything else, I unhooked my bra, put it on the sink with my dress
and took off the heels and pantyhose. Totally embarrassed I tried covering my
nudity with my arms. I was quickly ordered to put my arms at my sides, stand
straight and face forward. I felt the flush of humiliation cover me from head to
toe. I was now on display like never before. Goldie devoured my nudity with her
eyes. Her gaze covered every detail of my body. To make sure nothing was
overlooked she walked around me several times.

Time stood still. Here I was, completely naked in a public bathroom with the
Winstons maid surveying me. I burst into tears and tried to grab my dress. This
brought an instant reaction from the black maid. Before I was able to get my
hand on the dress she was behind me with her arm around my neck. I now realized
how strong and agile she was for a big woman. The more I struggled the tighter
her grip on me became. Again I knew I was beaten. I stopped struggling and she
relaxed her hold on me. She came in front of me, put her face only inches from
mine and said "you stupid white cunt, you ever do that again I'll beat you till
you bleed". I stood there looking down at the floor knowing I was doomed. She
must have sensed the fact my spirit was broken and began to take full advantage.
She continued her appraisal of me. I was told to turn, lift my arms over my
head, bend over, even spread my legs. I did as I was told. This gave her greater
confidence. She reached out and grabbed one of my breasts roughly feeling its
size and weight. Her fingers moved to the nipple and I felt a stabbing pain as
she squeezed me in her strong fingers. Without releasing her grip the other hand
moved between my legs. As she continued to pinch and probe I began to sob. My
reaction made her angry. I was told to stop crying or I would be given something
to cry about. Afraid to get her even more angry I tried to stifle the sobbing.

Even now as I sipped on the tea the events of that day raced through my brain.
Goldie had given me my first taste of torture, mental torture. I remember how
she asked me if just what she was doing made me cry, what would I do when the
real pain begins. I stared back in silence but she could see the panic in my
eyes. She decided to make the most of it. I recall some of her words even now.
"It don't take much to make you cry. What you gonna do when they whip those tits
and that blonde cunt. What you gonna do when they stick needles in that sweet
white ass. How you gonna act when they fill you up with a big hot enema. You
gonna cry when I make you eat my big black pussy". She went on and on. Even now
after so many things have been done to me that first day of my captivity stays
fresh in my mind.

My thoughts strayed back to the ladies room. After the fondling and verbal
abuse, Goldie decided it was time to get ready for the Drs. visit. She opened
the case she had been carrying and took out a bottle of Massengill Douche and
three Fleet Enemas. She handed them to me and told me to go into a stall and
clean myself out. By now I knew better than to refuse so I just took the
packages from her and proceeded into a stall. By reflex I turned to latch the
door but found her standing in the way. This was the first of many indignities I
was to suffer. She was going to watch as I did what is mostly done in private.
As I squatted over the bowl with the douche I realized what else she had given
me. Why did I need an enema to see a gynocologist. I asked the question but did
not get a reply. She did although take great pleasure in telling me how this
examination was going to be much different than any I had in the past.

Was that ever an understatement. Totally embarrassed I finished the task I was
given. Next I was handed some make up, a brush and hair spray and told to make
myself presentable. When I was done fixing myself, I automatically reached for
my clothes. As before, my hand was slapped away. Goldie again reached into the
case and took out a neatly folded stack of underwear. She gave it to me and told
me to put it on. The first piece was a black padded push up bra. I asked why
this was necessary and told that "Mrs. Winston wants you to wear it". The next
article was a black waist cincher. As I picked it up I could feel how heavy it
was. It was the old type with metal rods in it. Next were a pair of off black
stockings and a pair of black pumps with 5 inch heels. I was puzzled, why these
clothes to see a Dr. Again I asked and was given the same answer,"because Mrs.
Winston wants it that way".

I remember trying to put the cincher on only to find it to small. I have a small
waist but was unable to get the hooks even close. Goldie was only too happy to
help and by the time it was in place my ribs felt like they were being crushed.
I was forced to stand perfectly straight and take very short, small breaths.
Glancing in the mirror I saw how this garment made my waist much smaller and my
hips and bust seem even larger. I needed help with the bra also, again it was
too small. My breasts are a 34-D but looked twice as large in this bra. They
bulged over the cups and stood high on my chest. Breathing was getting more
difficult. Next came the stockings and shoes. The cincher made it impossible to
bend to get the garters attached so again it required Goldies assistance. She
took her turn with me again. While she had helped with the bra she managed to
pinch and squeeze my breasts. Now her fingers were pushing their way into me but
I was afraid to say or do anything.

Again I looked in the mirror and the image was bizarre at best. I was not
dressed for a trip to the Dr. but more for a night of wild sex.

Why had they made me dress in this manner? I could not help but think about what
kind of Dr. this was. I found out soon enough. I was allowed to put my dress
back on and we left the ladies room.

Mrs. Winston was waiting at the elevator and asked Goldie if everything was all
right. The maid assured her all was as it should be. I remember the ride in the
limo. No one said a word. I was having trouble sitting due to the strange
lingerie I was forced to wear. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. In
a short time we arrived at an upper east side brownstone. The shingle read Dr.
V. Kim M.D. I was extremely nervous and the thought of having a little oriental
man do the most intimate examination of my body did little to help me relax. The
events that followed make me shudder even now.

Mrs. Winston told the driver to wait and that we would be approximately 3 hours.
Why so long I remember thinking. The three of us walked up to the door and
Goldie rang the buzzer. I recall looking around as if hoping for rescue.

A small oriental woman answered the door and my first thought was she must be
the nurse. Her and Mrs. Winston exchanged greetings and we entered. The office
was much the same as any other successful Manhatten Dr. The oriental woman asked
Mrs. Winston if she could get her any refreshment. The reply shocked and sent
waves of fear through me. Mrs. Winston said "no Dr. Kim I would prefer to get
started, we have a lot to do".

This could not be the Dr. I had never been to a female Dr. of any kind in my
life. The very thought of being touched and examined by another female made me
turn toward the door and try to get out. As I had learned earlier Goldie was
very fast and grabbed me before I took more than three steps. as I struggled and
begged Mrs. Winston to please let me leave, I heard the Dr. tell Goldie to bring
me to the special room in the basement. She added all was ready and we would not
be disturbed. My arm was twisted behind my back and I was forced down a
staircase into the basement. My protests became louder and finally I was yelling
for help.

As if I was not even there I heard the Dr. tell Mrs. Winston that I could scream
as much as I wanted, everything was of course sound proof.

The vivid memories did little to calm my nerves. I sipped more tea and lit
another cigarette. I tried to focus on the TV. Anything not to think more of
that day. But as usual the memories came crashing back. I recalled how Goldie
pushed me toward a metal door. The Dr. had the key ready and pushed it open.
Inside was what appeared to be a normal examination room, the sight of which
calmed me momentarily. The four of us entered and I remember the door being
locked behind us. Now I was totally at their mercy. Goldie released me and I
began to look around. Everything seemed to be in order until I looked at the
examining table. There were restraining straps all over it. Even the stirrups
had straps attached to them. Again I began to scream and beg. The three other
women just watched in amusement. After a time I realized my feeble attempts were
in vain and I started to quiet down. It was then that Mrs. Winston began to
speak.

I was told that no more outbursts would be tolerated and if I protested in any
way I would be immediately punished. Mrs. Winston opened her bag and took out
what looked like a flashlight. She asked me if I knew what it was and I said no.
She told me it was called a cattle prod and it was used to help handle cattle,
horses, and other large animals. She explained how it sent a high voltage
electrical shock into whatever it touched, and if I did not follow her
instructions to the letter, it would touch me. As she said the last word of the
sentence she placed it against my thigh.

The room exploded. I lost all my senses. I could not hear nor see. My breathe
was pulled from my lungs. Every nerve in my body screamed in pain. I fell to the
floor like a house of cards convulsing in agony. It took several minutes for me
to return to normal. Goldie helped me to my feet. Mrs. Winston looked at me with
her icy stare and told me that was a small sample of what I would get if I
disobeyed in any way. She had me at her complete mercy. I never wanted to feel
that cattle prod again. She asked me if I understood and was ready to cooperate.
I remember putting my head down and saying yes mam.

I was next made to stand in the middle of the room as Mrs. Winston made herself
comfortable in a large chair and told the Dr. to begin. I was reminded to follow
the Drs. orders or face more punishment. I was then told by the Dr. to remove my
dress. I knew better than try and argue. Quickly I undid the dress and let it
fall to the floor. There I stood on display again, a spectacle for the three
woman to behold. This was the first time Mrs. Winston had seen me without all of
my clothes on. She leaned forward in her chair as if to get a better look. At
the same time the Dr. was visibly licking her lips. Mrs. Winston was the first
to speak. "I can't believe our good fortune, she is perfect".

For the second time today I was made to turn, raise my arms, bend forward,
spread my legs. All of a sudden I realized I was not wearing panties. Now I
understood the ingenious design of the cincher. Although the garters went down
the sides of my legs the front and back of the garment were cut high to fully
expose my pussy and ass. Not only could they have a perfect view but the Dr.
would have access without removing the cincher. The black underwear was a
contrast to my milky white skin and blonde hair. The sight of me in the
provocative lingerie seemed to inflame the women. I was told to walk around the
room while they did a thorough appraisal of my body. This seemed very strange
coming from other women. The next orders I received brought even more shame. I
was told to bend over and spread my ass cheeks. When I hesitated I was quickly
shown the dreaded cattle prod. I instantly put my hands behind me and bent over.
The three woman discussed that part of my anatomy. The Dr. was reminded to make
sure to check well as I would be used anally very often. Before I could grasp
what they were saying I was told to stand straight, face forward and spread my
pussy. I could not believe my shame but obeyed the order. Mrs. Winston made me
spread my legs so wide it felt as if the tendons in my thighs would tear. Next I
was ordered to grasp my lower lips and spread them as wide as possible. I was
then told to insert a finger inside myself. Again I obeyed. The demands
increased. I was now told to force four fingers into myself. When they were
satisfied with the attempt I was told to stop and stand straight. My humiliation
was reaching new heights. Mrs. Winston was disappointed at the fact I was unable
to insert four fingers but the Dr. quickly reassured her she would remedy the
problem.

The memories were getting me more upset but I could not stop them. I had to go
to the bathroom and wanted more tea anyway. I checked the time, 3 o'clock, the
limo would be here at 6. I had a couple of hours to try and rest. I went back to
the bedroom and laid down again. My mind went right back to the Drs. office. I
was then told to remove the bra. After fumbling with the hook I told them I
could not get it off because it was too tight. Goldie came up behind me and also
struggled to get it off. As it opened my breasts sprang free and I was able to
take a deep breath. Now they began to comment about my breasts. Mrs. Winston was
pleased with their size and shape and all the possibilities they presented for
tit torture. "What's that", I asked in a shaky voice. I was told I would find
out very soon. I did not know then how soon.

The Dr. came up to me and took one of my nipples in her fingers, studying it
closely. She seemed disappointed and explained to Mrs. Winston how the small
size of the nipple might limit certain activities. Mrs. Winston got up from her
chair and came for a closer look. I felt like some laboratory specimen. The two
women were inspecting my nipples. The Dr. suggested waiting a few minutes until
I was on the table. I was feeling the panic well in my stomach.

Next the Dr. picked up a chart and started to write. She then began a series of
questions. I was asked my medical history, the history of my family, my present
health, any pregnancies, any abortions. Her questions got worse. I was asked
about birth control, previous sexual activities, drug use, my menstrual cycle
and even the last time I had sex or masturbated. Before she put down the chart I
was asked if I knew my exact measurements and as I replied she put down the
information.

Next in a rough voice she ordered me onto the table. I remember how I hesitated
hoping for something to happen. I knew once I was secured to the table I would
be totally at their mercy. The Dr. was getting impatient and again in a voice
that scared me ordered me on the table. I was petrified. What would she do once
I was secured. Some of the comments I had heard were running through me. Was
this to be my first torture session. Why was this room here. Why was it sound
proof. Was the Dr. a healer or a sadist. Apparently she had done this before.
How many women came before me, and what became of them.

No matter how hard I tried to put all these thoughts out of my head I just could
not. I considered taking a valium but was afraid of the reaction later on. They
might be upset if I was not completely alert. I decided not to drink any more
tea for fear I might have to use the bathroom during the party as it was called.
I thought parties were supposed to be fun, I knew there would be none for me
this night.

I continued to sit in the dim room and lit another cigarette. No matter how hard
I tried my thoughts went right back to that first meeting with the Dr. I
recalled how after telling me to get on the table, and me being too afraid to do
so, the Dr. just reached for the cattle prod. It made me move quickly.

I got up on the table as fast as I could. I had still not fully recovered from
the first jolt. Now the Dr. seemed to take on a different attitude. Her face
turned cruel and she had a strange fire in her eyes as she adjusted my body. My
legs were positioned into the stirrups and secured. Goldie helped by securing my
arms to straps on the side of the table near the floor. This position proved
painful on my shoulders but served to make my breasts very prominent. Next
straps were brought over my hips and across my rib cage and tightened. I tried
to move but could not. I remember feeling totally helpless, but they were not
done. The Dr. came up to the top of the table and fastened another strap across
my forehead. I was now completely deprived of any movement and totally open and
vulnerable. The only freedom I had was that of speech.

Through the sobs I begged them to stop this and not hurt me. My reply was
laughter from the three women. Mrs. Winston came up next to me and told me one
of the reasons for me being there was to feel pain. She explained how aside from
it being necessary to check my physical condition, they would take this
opportunity to introduce me to their world. The world of sadism directed at a
helpless female. She continued by saying how the three of them and many others
found the greatest pleasure in hearing the screams and watching the reactions of
their victims. It was now my turn to give them what they desired.

The memory of what happened next will stay with me for the rest of my life. They
all stood around me and began to undress. Although my field of vision was
limited I watched as they stripped down to their underwear. The spectacle was
indeed bizarre. Even what they wore was unusual. Mrs. Winston was wearing almost
the same things I was. Black push up bra, black waist cincher with long garters
and black stockings. I remember thinking that for an older woman she still had a
very good body.

The Dr. was dressed in a black half cup corset that left most of her small
breasts exposed and ended just below her waist. Attached at the bottom were long
garters which framed her exposed pussy which was free of any hair as was Mrs.
Winstons.

My eyes went to Goldie. This was the most shocking of all. She was wearing a
flesh tone girdle which was in total contrast to her ebony skin. The girdle
started just below her massive breasts and stopped at the top of a huge pubic
mound. In a fast glance I was able to see how heavy and well constructed this
garment was. I had never seen a black woman nude before and was shocked by her
breasts. They had to be at least a 48-D and hung well over the top of the
girdle. The nipples were jet black and the size of saucers. Her pussy was
covered by a thick mass of long, curly black hair.

I remembered how at that point I gave up all hope. I was surrounded by three
demons. I had entered hell itself. Now they were ready, my time to suffer was at
hand.

Even now safe in my room the hours that followed still bring on a cold sweat.
The Dr. began at my mouth. She forced my jaws apart and inserted a devise that
held it open. She had a dentists pick and checked all my teeth. She was not
gentle and made the examination uncomfortable but bearable. Then she opened the
clamp a little wider and began to examine my throat with a tongue depressor. It
was inserted deep and I gagged.

Next she inserted a vibrator into my mouth which was in the shape of a penis. It
measured about 1 1/2 inches in diameter and at least 8 inches in length. It was
forced deep into my throat. I immediately began to choke and gag. The Dr. kept
maneuvering it until I was sure I would pass out. With my head secured as it was
I could do nothing to fight the thrusts of the object. It was withdrawn just as
my vision turned black. From somewhere under the table the Dr. produced an
oxygen mask and I was quickly revived. The clamp was removed and she made an
entry on the chart. She informed Mrs. Winston that I had very large tonsils and
could only accept small tubing, but would have no problem with oral sex. I
remembered trying to figure out what she meant by tubing, but my thoughts were
interrupted.

Next my blood pressure was taken and putting on a stethoscope she checked my
heart rate, more entries. She then moved to my breasts. Her fingers kneaded the
sensitive flesh checking for any lumps. This she did in such a manner as to
bring tears to my eyes and a moan to my lips. Mrs. Winston came to the opposite
side of the table to get a better view. As they had done earlier they began to
discuss the breasts as if they were not part of a living person. The Dr. assured
Mrs. Winston that although the nipples were small they could take a lot of
abuse. The Dr. directed Mrs. Winston to feel the consistency of the breasts. She
did, squeezing even harder than the Dr. had, causing me to moan louder. They
paid no attention to my protests.

The Dr. went on to explain how the needles could be used frequently with no
problems, even into the nipples themselves. Mrs. Winston them asked if the
syringes could also be used. After more painful manipulation of my breasts the
Dr. gave her the answer. She said I would be able to take about a pint in each
tit, and they would even be able to use the oxygen on me. All I could do was lay
there and wonder what the hell they were talking about. The Dr. also pointed out
the effectiveness of the rubber hoses.

Because I had large breasts they could be used often with good results. Could
they be referring to the treatment I had seen done to the Spanish woman on the
tape. I was now crying uncontrollably. She went on to tell the others how the
compression rings and the press should bring excellent results, but cautioned as
to the use of the canes or suspension.

What did these things mean. I could only imagine they were some way to torture
the breasts I had been so proud of. Mrs. Winston next asked the Dr. if she would
be able to have a few punishment bras made, and was assured it would be taken
care of.

Having had enough of my breasts for now the small group moved to the foot of the
table. The stirrups were opened to their maximum width. By doing so it opened me
fully, and gave them a perfect view of my most private parts. I was able to see
the Dr. put on a rubber glove and apply lubricant. She disappeared from my
limited field of vision but I immediately felt the insertion of her finger. Her
probing was thorough and a little painful. Then I felt her trying to put several
fingers into me.

It was beginning to hurt very much and I was complaining loudly. A few seconds
later I felt her hand forcing its way inside me. The pain was extreme and I was
sure she would rip the opening of my pussy. With one hard push she got her whole
hand into me. I let out a scream and then began to cry openly. She was hurting
me badly. I never had anyones hand in me before. I began to feel her fingers
probing and feeling around inside me. My body automatically started to stretch
and the pain began to subside.

She continued the internal exam. All of a sudden I felt a searing pain deep
inside the brought out a series of loud screams. As the pain was increasing she
was casually telling the others that she had forced a finger into my uterus. My
screaming went on as I tried to tear free of my bonds. This time I did pass out.
I was revived and the hand was no longer inside me. Goldie stood above me with
the smelling salts still in her hand. The Dr. and Mrs. Winston were next to me
engaged in a conversation. The Dr. was explaining the fact that although I had a
small frame, they would have no problem fisting me or forcing large objects into
me. She went on explaining how she needed smears for testing and would need to
dilate my uterus in order to insert a probe. She sarcastically added "wait till
I give her that injection, then you'll hear her scream". She then walked over to
a cabinet but I could not see what see was doing.

I remember how I begged Mrs. Winston to please make her stop. Do not let her
hurt me anymore. I have been hurt enough already. I also remember her reply, we
haven't even started, she said.

The Dr. returned to the table. She explained to the other woman how under normal
conditions she would spray the area to be injected with nitrous oxide. That she
said would freeze the area and the needle would not be felt. She looked directly
into my eyes as she completed the statement by saying, but I love to do it this
way, the pain it causes is excruciating. She then moved back to the end of the
table and started working between my legs.

I then felt the cold steel of the spreader clamp inserted into me. Other Drs.
have used these on me before with little or no discomfort. Now the sadistic
nature of this woman really became evident. She used no lubricant and just
pushed until it was in place. Then she opened it as wide as possible as quickly
as she could. I thought the delicate area had been torn for sure. My tears
flowed freely as much from fear as from the pain. She was becoming more cruel by
the minute. She came up near my face and held up the syringe she had prepared. I
started screaming through the tears. It was the largest needle I had ever seen.
The shaft was at least 6 inches long, but the thickness was what made me panic.
It was as thick as a knitting needle. I remember how between the screams I
begged her not to use that on me. She just glared down at me and said that I
would get to know it well, because this was the one that would be used on me
most of the time. She went back to the end of the table were Mrs. Winston was
waiting. Looking down at me she told Goldie to check the straps because this
would cause a violent reaction. As Goldie checked all the restraints I just
screamed and begged but to no avail. It was by far the most excruciating pain I
had felt to that point in my life. She plunged the syringe deep into my womb.
The pain was so terrible I could not even scream. I thrashed about in my bonds
as much as I could. It felt as if there was a red hot poker burning deep in my
stomach. Every nerve in my body was on fire. The pain was so intense my eyes
must have rolled in their sockets because everything turned black. Again I was
revived by Goldie. As I awoke I began screaming. I remember how it felt as if I
screamed for hours until I could scream no more. I just laid there and sobbed
uncontrollably. The pain in my stomach was still intense but not as bad as when
the needle was being twisted around in my womb. My vision returned to normal and
I was greeted by the three women studying me with their looks of amusement.
Finally the Dr. announced that I had come through this first torture better than
expected. She informed Mrs. Winston that she was pleasantly surprised and felt I
was strong enough to endure many more sessions. After they had a few minutes of
consultation the Dr. said I was ready for the next procedure.

Not even knowing what was to be done next I began to sob and beg for release. I
was informed that the next procedure would be almost pain free. See stressed the
word almost. I was told she had to take some smears in order to check for
disease. As soon as she assumed her position between my legs I started to beg
her not to hurt me again. She held up a cotton swab and told me to relax. This
part of the exam was done without causing me any undo discomfort. Next she went
to the cabinets and was busy there for a few seconds. She again came up next to
me and said she was ready to take the next smear. She looked over at the other
two women and with a smirk on her face told me that unfortunately this one might
hurt as she broke into full laughter.

A Year of Slavery # 1-3

"Caught And The Contract"

She held an instrument up for me to see that looked much like an arrow. When I
asked nervously what it was I was told it would be put into my uterus to get a
tissue sample. She went on to further torment me by saying it would probably
hurt, but not nearly as much as it would have if she had not given me the
injection to dilate me. Again she took the familiar position between my legs.
And again I started to plead with then not to hurt me this way. I tried to tell
Mrs. Winston that this was more than I had expected and was not in our deal. She
sarcastically asked me what I had expected.

Between my sobs and gasps I said I thought I would be tied up and whipped, used
for sex and things like that. She answered by telling me I was very stupid and
should have paid more attention to what she and her husband had explained to me.
Just as I was about to answer my words were cut off by the stabbing pain of the
probe being forced into me. I experienced all the same sensations I had when the
needle was inserted. The pain was severe, again the screaming was
uncontrollable. My throat was getting sore and my eyes were beginning to swell
from the constant screaming and crying. The Dr. saw by my reactions that the
pain was diminishing but she decided I did not as yet have enough. She began to
move the probe which was deep inside me. This brought another round of screams
to my parched lips. Between the flashes of pain I was surprised to hear Mrs.
Winston tell the Dr. to stop.

She did so immediately and the pain stopped. With the probe still buried deep in
me the Dr. got up from her position as torturess. I was glad to hear Mrs.
Winston say that she thought I had enough of this form of pussy torture as she
called it. But I was horrified when she went on to say she wanted to try some
other things and did not want to burn me out. The Dr. agreed and said she was
not sure how far to go on my first session. Mrs. Winston said she wanted to try
some other areas. The Dr. said she would remove the probe but reminded Mrs.
Winston she had not done the anal exam as yet. Her words sent a shock wave
through me. They intended to cause me more pain. The Dr. began to remove the
probe, the pain was not as bad as when it was inserted but still hurt very
badly.

The hours were dragging as I stayed in my bed. My mind was getting the best of
me. I had these same thoughts hundreds of times since becoming a slave. I
sometimes wondered if the memories of what had been done and the knowledge of
what was to come were not just as bad as the actual experience. The mind is a
funny thing, it can cause as much pain as the torture itself. I thought of John,
it was terrible the way I was treating him. Even though he was married to
another, he treated me very well and I loved him very much. As many times as I
thought of telling him I knew I could not. My main fear was what he might do to
the Winstons. Although I had an intense hatred for them, I did not wish them
dead. What if he was caught, then I would have no one. I had created this
problem and would have to deal with it. But at what price. I still had time
before I had to get ready, and again found my thoughts wandering to that first
time at the Drs. office.

I remember how I just remained tied to the table as the three women sipped
champagne and discussed what was to be done next. The stress of what they did to
me was taking its toll. I was tired, still in pain and had to use the bathroom.
I was afraid to speak, but the need to relieve myself was becoming intense.
Finally I called to the threesome and asked if I could be allowed to go to the
bathroom. Goldie came up next to me and asked me for what. I told her and she
went back to the other women. After some spirited conversation they came next to
me.

The Dr. seemed very pleased and instructed Goldie to get her a # 2 catheter. I
had no idea what she had requested but by the looks on her and Mrs. Winstons
faces I knew I would not like it. Goldie handed the Dr. a package which was
quickly opened. A roll of plastic tubing was held up to my face and I was asked
if I knew what it was. I remember fearfully replying that I did not. The Dr.
smiled at me and told me it could be used to let me relieve myself without
getting off the table.

The looks of the women told me there was more to this. I did not understand how
this could work and just asked if I could be released. Mrs. Winston, with a
broad smile on her face said if they did that it would ruin their fun. I
realized I would again be made to suffer. I was right. The Dr. again took up her
position as torturess and I immediately felt her hands working inside me. All of
a sudden I felt something being pushed into me. It started as more of a burning
sensation than pain. I demanded to know what she was doing to me. She replied by
saying that a tube was being inserted up into me and would ultimately drain my
bladder. The burning was getting worse and I was beginning to moan as much from
fear as from the pain that was starting. As the Dr. kept pushing, the pain was
increasing. It was not as bad as what she had done already, that was a sharp
blinding pain, this was different. The pain was slowly increasing until again I
was crying and screaming.

Mrs. Winston just kept watching me with a joyous look on her face. As I felt a
stabbing pain and let out a long loud scream the Dr. stood up and announced it
was home. The need to urinate was now stronger than ever. The added pressure
made my bladder feel as if it would burst. Goldie was told to get a canister.
The Dr. was holding the end of the tube in the air as she told me as soon as she
released the clamp I would feel relief. I begged her to do so and asked her why
she was doing this to me. She just said because she enjoyed inflicting pain and
loved the screams it brought. I then asked as a woman, how can you do this to
another woman. She smiled down at me and replied that although she had no use
for men, she hated young beautiful women.

She went on to explain how as a Dr. who specialized in women she knew how to
cause the most pain. I then knew there was nothing I could say that would help
me. She lowered the tube into the canister and released the clamp. As promised
relief was instant. I had no control over the flow but in a minute felt I was
empty. From the corner of my eye I saw the Dr. at the cabinet again. I was
getting scared. Every time she went to the cabinet I would feel pain. She
returned and showed me a large plastic syringe. She explained how the tube could
be used to let fluid out, or put it back in. I realized immediately what she
meant. As before, I started to beg. To make the procedure worse she put the end
of the tube on my stomach and began attaching the syringe so I would be able to
watch. She then started to push the plunger. I felt what I first thought was hot
turn to an icy chill, they were putting ice water into me. The pressure was
increasing in an unnatural way. She had put in more than she let out and the
plunger was only half way down. As before the moans turned into gut retching
screams. Finally the syringe was empty and the clamp was reapplied.

The women again gathered around me. Mrs. Winston spoke first. With a grin on her
face she told me I was doing better than she expected. She added that if I
remained quiet for 5 minutes the clamp would be released. I didn't know it then
but trying to remain quiet when in so much pain only made the pain more intense.
I learned that the ability to cry and scream takes your mind off the pain. As I
laid on the table trying not to make a sound my mind had nothing but the pain on
which to focus. I closed my eyes, was biting my lip and even digging my nails
into the palms of my hands. I felt the scream welling up in my throat but fought
with all my being not to let it out. Just as my mouth opened to let the scream
escape, the clamp was released. After several minutes I regained my composure
and was congratulated by Mrs. Winston.

She told me I had done well and showed great endurance, somehow I knew this
would work against me in the future. They were removing the tube as I heard Mrs.
Winston say that they would have to remember this procedure and use it more
often. My thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of the spreader clamp being
closed and removed from my pussy. I silently prayed they were done with me. The
three women again came up near my face and the Dr. spoke. She told me they were
almost done with the exam.

She went on to explain that my anal opening had to be checked, and a smear
taken. The past hour taught me to fear her words, but I had no choice other than
lay there and submit. The Dr. adjusted the stirrups, they were raised and
brought towards my head. This caused my ass to roll up and provide easier
access. The spreaders were used again. I tried to tighten the muscles but as
before she just pushed until they were in place. This hurt and I moaned in
protest. She began to open them but was more gentle than she had been on my
pussy. It was extremely uncomfortable but tolerable.

I felt her finger being inserted and feeling around, but again it did not cause
any real pain. She asked Goldie for a swab and I felt it reach deep into me. The
swab and the clamp were removed. Was it over I thought. The Dr. made more
entries in the chart and told Mrs. Winston everything seemed in order. She went
on to say in her opinion I would have no trouble with anal penetration, and
could take long, large objects. As much as I did not want to hear what they were
saying, I was relieved, thinking the exam was over. I did not know then that
their fun was about to start.

They retired to a corner of the room and sipped more champagne. Their voices
were muted, but I could tell they were in heated conversation. Finally they
returned to me. I asked if I could be released since the examination was over.
Again that familiar smirk came to the three faces. Mrs. Winston answered by
saying that indeed the exam was almost finished but now was the time for them to
indulge in a few of their perversions.

Once again I was gripped by fear. The Dr. came up to my head and started to undo
the strap saying it was no longer necessary and would give me the opportunity to
better see what they were doing. The strap was removed and I turned my head in
time to see a truly bizarre sight. Goldie was on her knees in front of Mrs.
Winston inserting a large double ended dildo into her gaping pussy. She then
fastened straps around Mrs. Winstons waist that held it in place. Mrs Winston
turned to face me and at first glance it appeared as if she had grown a giant
penis. It had to be 12 inches in length. The look on her face coupled with what
the Dr. said about long, large objects gave me a feeling of impending doom. I
remember thinking that she was about to rape me. As she walked up to me I asked
in a trembling voice what she was going to do. I recall how in a lusty tone she
replied that she was going to fuck me in the ass. I began to protest that it was
too big and would cause damage. She answered I had better get used to it and
would not be injured, just made to scream. The Dr. came up and mercifully spread
lubricant on the dildo and with a huge grin said to hurry because she wanted to
play too.

Mrs. Winston took a position between my widely spread legs and I felt the dildo
brush against my most intimate opening. I remember the waves of disgust that
came over me. Here I was bound to a table totally exposed about to be sodomized
by a woman while two others looked on. I just completed the thought as Mrs.
Winston grabbed my thighs and lunged forward. The searing pain and the sudden
thrust into my intestine took my breath away. She pulled out and lunged into me
again, this drove the dildo all the way into me and caused me to start screaming
again. I begged her to stop saying she was tearing me apart. She just fucked me
harder. She kept fucking, I kept screaming. The other two kept laughing and
making lewd comments. This continued for what seemed an eternity until to my
disgust and disbelief, she reached orgasm. After several more thrusts she
slumped between my widespread thighs and pulled the dildo out of me. I felt the
need to vomit but was afraid of the punishment it would bring.

Mrs. Winston finally stood up and said the next time will be better. She would
have me bent over properly and would use a bigger dildo. I felt this had to be
the ultimate degradation. I had been raped by a woman with a rubber cock. I
turned my head away, totally mortified. I did not know then that this would be
the first of a long line of sexual assaults on my defenseless body. I would even
learn to welcome the sexual abuse, it was better than some diabolical torture. I
recall how no sooner was Mrs. Winston through with me, the Dr. came forward. I
was disgusted by the prospect of being used as an object for her perverted lust.
I was not to be that fortunate. She received her sexual gratification by
administering pain. She studied me a long time. Her eyes roamed my entire body
as if looking for a spot to violate. She seemed to make up her mind and went
into action.

The table was readjusted to bring my legs down and my thighs closer together.
The head was brought up slightly as if I were reclining. My arms were also
retied over my head and behind me. Although I had straps across my chest, my
breasts were thrust forward. She took a step back and focused directly at my
chest. I shuddered at what I knew she was thinking. It was obvious she was
planning something for my breasts.

She walked over to the cabinet and took out two large vials. One was marked
saline the other glucose. I had no idea what she was preparing to do. She then
began opening packages of disposable syringes. A wave of panic swept over me.
The wrapping on the syringes read 2 inches + 20 cc and she was filling them from
the 2 vials. What could all these needles have to do with my breasts. Something
that was said earlier came to mind.

I remembered that during the examination of my breasts Mrs. Winston asked the
Dr. if the syringes could be used. I immediately began screaming and begging the
Dr. not to use those on me. I could not even begin to imagine these needles put
into my bound and vulnerable breasts. This woman was a Dr. She had to know the
injuries she could cause. My mind was in a frenzy. Could what she planned to do
be fatal. What had been done so far, as bad as it had been, did not have the
ramifications of what I feared was to come.

As I looked back at the Dr. she was busy placing the loaded syringes into a
glass canister. She then placed the canister on a Bunson Burner. Why was she
sterilizing already sterile needles? My emotions were running wild, absolute
terror, fear of the unknown, self pity and also anger for putting myself in this
position.

Even now safe in my apartment, those same emotions were consuming me. As was the
case back then in the Drs. office I was in a reclining position fearing my
coming ordeal. After some of the things that were done to me that day, fear of
the unknown had lessened. I now had some idea of what these people were capable
of but was also sure there were many surprises in store for me. The terror was
still a big factor. I had no idea how far they would take their need to inflict
pain. A day did not pass without my feeling sorry for myself. I knew what I had
already endured and always feared to what extremes I would be subjected. And
last but far from least was the reflection on my own stupidity.

I checked the time and found it was only a few minutes later than it had been.
Time was on their side. The more time I had the more pain my mind inflicted on
me. I lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply and tried to rid my mind of the
memories. Even this comfort would be denied me.

As if my mind had a will of its own, the horrible memories of Dr. Kim's office
consumed me. While they were waiting for the needles to be sterilized the three
women once again surrounded me. I looked at Mrs. Winston and asked her what they
were going to do to me. She explained how in payment for the Drs. services she
would be allowed to as, she put it, indulge herself. She said that although the
Dr. had a very successful practice and had many patients, she seldom had the
chance to use her real talents.

I was told how many years ago in North Viet Nam Dr. Kim had a very different
profession. She had been in charge of interrogating female prisoners. She went
on to tell me how several years ago she and Mr. Winston had been fortunate
enough to meet the good Dr. and bring her into their little group. I remembered
her referring to her friends as she called them when I had signed the contract
turning me into their slave. I had now met two of these friends. The Dr. and on
tape, the Wardress. I silently wondered what other deviates she referred to as
friends.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Winstons voice. She went on telling me how
the Drs. special talents had been helpful to the group in the past years. She
had helped the Wardress by teaching her various methods of torture and
punishment. The Dr. was also responsible for training the slaves that belonged
to members of the group. She had also provided countless hours of entertainment
in the form of acting as torturess at certain functions. And last but most
important she was responsible for the physical condition of the victims and they
used. She had to make sure they were in good health and free of any contagious
diseases and also treat any injuries that might occur.

As she spoke the knot in my stomach was growing tighter. Mrs. Winston calmly and
somewhat sarcastically went on to tell me how the Dr. was going to inject the
contents of the syringes into my breasts. She was confirming my fears. I
remember how as I started to shake, my eyes wandered down to the bosom they
planned to assault. As I had done before I began to beg. Appealing to them as
human beings I apologized for what I had done, I even found myself pleading for
a different form of punishment. I just could not bear the thought of them
hurting my breasts. The terror grew worse as I watched the Dr. approach with the
canister of syringes. As she set it down on a small tray next to my table I saw
the steam rising from it. One look at the dozen or so needles caused me to start
screaming and trying to pull free of the straps. As if a command was given by
the Dr., Mrs. Winston and Goldie moved to my side. The Dr. was ready. I stopped
screaming in time to hear her tell the two spectators that she would try to put
five or six injections in each tit. The terror I felt was so consuming I could
not even scream, all I could do was focus on the Drs. movements.

She began by wiping my entire chest with alcohol. I recall how through my sobs I
asked her why she was doing this to me. Her answer was painfully simple, she
wanted to hear me scream, and see me writhe in agony. As she was pulling on a
pair of heavy rubber gloves she told me the fluid in the syringes obviously was
very hot. She continued to explain that the syringes contained saline and
glucose which would dissipate into my system after about 24 hours. Although the
temperature and volume of the fluid to be injected would cause internal pain and
swelling I would have no permanent injury. She did not complete the sentence as
she retrieved the first syringe.

I had never been afraid of needles but this was different. As this instrument
which was usually used for healing approached my left breast I felt the blood
drain from my head. The room began to spin and I sought the welcome relief of
unconsciousness. Even this luxury was to be denied me. The Dr. instructed Goldie
to give me a few breaths of Amyl Nitrate so I would be totally alert. Goldie
jumped to the task and I was again painfully aware of what was going to happen.
The Dr. slowly began to insert the needle into the bottom of the breast.
Although painful it was not as terrible as I had imagined. Through the sobbing
and begging I watched as she repeated the process in the other breast. The Dr.
continued by inserting four syringes at 90 degree angles in each. Now each one
of my breasts was impaled by four needles. As I looked down at them I felt as if
I was in a trance. As I watched the Dr. I could not believe I was taking this
invasion so calmly. My brain was in a frenzy. Even though I was in pain it was
not nearly as bad as I had imagined. Then the realization hit me and again I
began to scream. She did not as yet inject the fluid.

As if reading my thoughts, the Dr. grasped the first syringe and pushed the
plunger. The pain was much like the cattle prod I had experienced earlier. The
agony I felt was so intense I could not get the scream past my lips. I remember
how I tried to rip free of my bonds. For the second time in a few hours I seemed
to be blinded by the pain. Every nerve in my body was ablaze. As she continued
to inject the fluids from all eight syringes the searing agony was so bad I
began to smash my head against the table in an attempt to knock myself out. No
matter what I did the agony continued. To make the whole scene even worse I
remember the three faces of my tormentors staring down at me. Finally all the
fluid was in my breasts and the needles were being removed. As the Dr. pulled
them from me the screaming continued. My throat was raw, and the sounds were
more animal than human.

I recall how between the screams I ground my teeth until I was sure they would
break in my mouth. I managed to look down as the last instrument of torture was
removed. The sight before my eyes caused me to start screaming again. My breasts
appeared twice their normal size. Seeing the swelling and the beet red color, I
refused to believe these were my once alluring breasts. I also felt as if I had
been consumed by a high fever. My whole body was covered in sweat. The Dr. was
taking my pulse and checking to see if I was all right. I remember her telling
me to calm down, the worst was over.

I continued to sob uncontrollably as the pain in my breasts was still very
intense. Again the Dr. reached under the table, put the oxygen mask on my face
and told me to breath deeply. The oxygen had the desired affect, I immediately
began to calm down. The mask was removed and the three women gathered around me
and began surveying the damage they had done. The Dr. told the others that in
her opinion I had enough torture for my first time and wanted the treatment to
take its full effect. By the looks on the three faces the women were extremely
pleased by what they had done. To make it all more unbearable they all began to
feel and squeeze my burning breasts.

All I could do was cry and demand to know what had been done and would I return
to normal. The Dr., who seemed very proud of herself told me that I took about 8
ounces in each tit and would be fine by tomorrow night. She went on to tell me
how she wanted to give me two more injections in each, but would save the full
treatment for a later date. Her tone became very sarcastic as she told me how
lucky I had been this time. Next time she would inject the nipples also. I was
speechless. These people were absolute maniacs.

Even now in my own bedroom the events of that day brought a cold sweat over my
entire body. I caressed my breasts wondering if they would receive more of the
dreaded treatment tonight. As I had done on numerous occasions I considered
running away from this insanity but as usual thought of my family and John.
Maybe the visit to the Dr. had been the worst. I would know more tomorrow. I
tried to be optimistic and tell myself that there was nothing more they could
do. Even as I tried to talk myself into this false sense of reality, the fear
tore at my very soul. Again I checked the time, I would have to start dressing
in about 45 minutes. I lit another cigarette and closed my eyes. In seconds my
mind went involuntarily back to Dr. Kims office.

There I was bound to the table with the three women still examining my tortured
and grotesque breasts. Some of the comments they made were as bad as the needles
being plunged into me. The Dr. was saying how the next time she would be able to
use more syringes and inject more fluid. Mrs. Winston, apparently not satisfied
with what they had already done, was asking what else could be done now. She was
telling the other two how in her opinion I was getting off too easily. As
terrible as it was hearing what they were saying, I felt a small sense of
relief, thinking they were through for now. But as I had been on more than one
occasion since this nightmare started, I was wrong.

The Dr. again with a smile on her face reminded the others that she still had
not taken a blood sample. I remember now how I felt an instant knot deep in my
stomach. I had seen that smile before and knew it meant I would be made to
endure more anguish. Mrs. Winstons attitude changed immediately. She began to
question the Dr. as to where she would take it from. The look on my face must
have told the Dr. I was again suffering from the mental torture, so she seized
the opportunity.

She began to tell the others some of her favorite spots. After she made two or
three suggestions, I was screaming and begging. After a short debate it was
decided that my breasts would be used since they were very prominent. As
ridiculous as it sounds I was relieved. The other areas she discussed were my
clitoris or the lips of my pussy. I recall how I begged her not to hurt me
anymore as she took out another syringe.

She paid no attention to my pleas and just inserted the needle directly into my
nipple. I watched and cried as some blood was drawn and the syringe was removed.
Although painful it was in no way as bad as what she already did. Then the
syringe was roughly pushed into the other nipple. This one was much worse than
the first. Before she took blood she pushed the needle as deep as it would go.
Then as the Dr. looked into my eyes she began to twist and probe. Suddenly
everything went black.

Again I awoke with the oxygen mask on my face. Mercifully that was over. I
remember how totally exhausted and beaten I just laid there sobbing in my bonds.
After a few minutes of discussion by my tormentors Mrs. Winston told Goldie to
release me. Waves of emotion swept over me. I had survived, they were through
hurting me, I could go home.

I was wrong again. After all the straps were removed I was made to stand and the
women took the opportunity to examine me. I remember how I was made to walk
around the room as they made remarks about what they had done and would do in
the future. I was still in a lot of pain and stumbled several times causing them
to laugh as they grabbed the abused portions of my body. Finally Goldie was told
to help me to the bathroom and clean me up.

The large woman grabbed me and headed in the direction of a hidden door. She
must have felt that this was her opportunity to cause me additional pain as she
placed her hand on my swollen and sensitive breast. I was openly crying as much
from the pain as from the humiliation of the session. Once in the small but well
appointed bathroom, any dignity I had gone, I just sat on the bowl and emptied
my bladder in the normal way. I felt an acute burning sensation and told Goldie.
Her response was that I better get used to the feeling since they would use the
catheter often.

I just sat with my face buried in my hands quietly sobbing. The black maid spent
the time by taunting me saying that I was crying needlessly. She told me I had
better resign myself to the fact that this was only a mild introduction, and it
would get much worse. Her words only made the whole situation worse. She then
shocked me back to reality by grabbing a handful of hair and jerking me to my
feet. I was ordered to wash my face, fix my make up and straighten my hair. I
was quick to obey, not wanting to make this woman angry.

I was ushered back into the examination room. Mrs. Winston and the Dr. were both
dressed and told me to put my bra back on, and follow them upstairs. The thought
of how tight it had been before brought an immediate protest from me. I said
that it would be impossible because of the swelling and the pain it would cause.
Mrs. Winston became very angry and told Goldie to put it on me, saying I had
better learn how to take orders. The maid came up behind me and roughly put the
bra around my chest and tried to fasten it. The pressure on my breasts was more
than I could stand and I broke free and again tried to run for the door. I
remember how I pulled at it before I realized it was locked. The three women
surrounded me and dragged me screaming to the center of the room. With the
cattle prod in her hand Mrs Winston told me to stand still while the bra was
fastened around me. Under the threat of the cattle prod I stood motionless as
Goldie and the Dr. forced my swollen breasts into the constricting bra. It felt
as if a steel band was being tightened around me. The pain in my breasts was
reaching the same heights as when the fluid was being injected. I felt waves of
nausea sweep over me but I was to terrified to move. The bra was finally in
place.

The trio stood in front of me admiring the effects. As I looked down all I could
see was two bulging mounds of angry red flesh crisscrossed by bright blue veins
and hideous black and blue marks. I remember how my mind refused to accept the
fact that they were mine.

The sound of Mrs. Winston screaming at me jarred me back to attention. I was
ordered to follow her and the others. We left the room and walked back upstairs
to an ornate office. The pain of the tortures I had endured and the tight
underwear made the short walk seem like miles. Each breath brought a stabbing
pain to my chest and each step reminded me of the violation of my two lower
openings. As the three women made themselves comfortable I was ordered to stand
at attention.

I recall how Mrs. Winston began to give me more details of my enslavement. The
first thing she said was assuming all the tests came back satisfactorily we
would proceed with the arrangement. If not she would call the police and have me
arrested and sent to prison. Next I was to address her and her group as Masters
and Mistresses. They would be made known to me shortly. I was to follow any
command given me and would be severely punished for any disobedience. I was also
informed that the first party as she called it would be in two weeks on a
Saturday night. It would begin at 7pm and last for at least 12 hours. I would be
picked up and brought back home by limo. If I required any medical attention
that would be handled by Dr. Kim. I would also receive further instructions
prior to each party. They might involve being fitted for special clothing, going
to get certain articles, receiving required treatments or submitting to periodic
medical examinations at the hands of the Dr. I recall as I stood there trying to
absorb what she was saying, that I felt as if life as I knew it had come to an
end. I was the unwilling captive to a group of sadistic lunatics. As bad as the
things I had just heard were, her next words put me over the edge and had me on
my knees begging.

I was told that in order to complete my first lesson I would have to be punished
for trying to escape the examination room. It would also serve to show my
willingness to obey. As if she was telling me to perform some simple office
task, she went on. I was told to bend over the edge of the desk and hold the
opposite side. She explained how I was to spread my legs and not move as Goldie
whipped my ass and the backs of my thighs. If I resisted or did not keep the
position I would be tied down and receive double the amount of strokes.

I remember how I knelt at her feet crying and begging them not to do anymore.
She just looked down at me with a look of total contempt and said to get over
the desk. I stayed on the floor looking into their faces, searching for a sign
of compassion, but found none. Instead my eyes fell upon the dreaded cattle prod
in Mrs. Winstons hand. I had no choice but obey, anything would be better than
the paralyzing pain of that murderous instrument. Again beaten and resigned to
my fate I got up and slowly approached the desk. I looked back one last time and
knew there would be no reprieve. Mrs. Winston and the Dr. were moving their
chairs in order to get a better view of my punishment and submission. Logically
I knew there was no other alternative. I would have to learn to accept my new
role as a slave. As I bent over the desk Goldie told me to grasp the opposite
edge. That was just another lesson in how diabolical these people really were.
As soon as my breasts came in contact with the surface I screeched and stood
straight up. I remember looking at the women and saying how I was in too much
pain to lay on the desk.

Before my sentence was complete ropes were being applied to my wrists and
ankles. Mrs. Winston was pleased to inform me that my reaction was anticipated
and now I would be bound and receive double. Goldie tied the ropes to the legs
of the desk causing most of my weight to fall on my tortured breasts. Next my
ankles were tied to the opposite legs spreading me out totally. all I could do
was lay there and whimper as much from embarrassment as from the pain.

As I looked up I saw Goldie holding a wide leather strap about 18 inches long
with a short wooden handle. I had never seen any kind of whip before and had no
way of knowing the severity of this instrument but I would learn all to quickly.
Mrs. Winston made the announcement that I was to get six, but do to my lack of
discipline I would now receive twelve. I remember thinking how this was the
worst part of a truly terrible evening.

Here I was a 38 year old intelligent, independent female bound to a desk in
provocative lingerie about to be whipped like a child. To make matters worse I
would be beaten by a woman for the pleasure of two other women. Nothing could
have prepared me for the first stroke of the strap. It crashed down on me with
the force of a baseball bat. The pain was incredible. I was instantly screaming
and tearing at the ropes. This pain was new and different. The needles and the
rape were an acute pain, this was just savage brutality. The second stroke took
my breath away as it slammed into me. My attempts to break free only added to
the intense pain in my chest. As the beating continued I was sure the flesh was
being ripped from my ass. At one point I looked over my shoulder to see this
massive near naked black woman swinging the strap and again felt the agony of
the blow. I lost track of everything around me. I was being consumed by the
brutality of the beating. As terrible as the blows to my ass were they paled in
comparison to the last few on my spread thighs. In a dazed state I recall the
ropes being removed and thinking it was over.

I awoke on the floor with the Dr. holding smelling salts under my nose. I was
too exhausted to even move. My entire body was a mass of pain and it was hard to
focus my thoughts. My first instinct was to look around to my ass cheeks, I was
sure they were a bloody mess. Instead of blood I saw a mass of black and blue
swollen flesh from the bottom of the cincher to the tops of the stockings. I
touched the area and felt a series of ridges running parallel to each other.
Where the strap came in contact with the stockings, the nylon was torn to
shreds. The skin felt as if it was on fire and throbbed in an unmerciful way. I
remained sprawled on the floor sobbing and trying to collect my thoughts. I
could not believe the pain of the whipping. In its own way it was the worst
thing so far. I recall Mrs. Winston looking down at me with that now familiar
grin telling me to get up and stop carrying on. As I struggled to my feet she
threw my dress at me and told me to get dressed, it was time to leave. She added
as the ultimate insult that she did not want to be late for a dinner engagement.
Goldie helped me put my dress on and the two woman said goodbye to the Dr. and
walked me to the limo. I was barely able to walk and they almost carried me. The
pain was so severe I did not even care about the looks I was getting from the
chauffeur.

Once in the car I knew I could not sit and just slumped onto my side on the
floor. It seemed as though I had lost all dignity and self respect. The short
ride to my apartment lasted for ever. Mrs. Winston and Goldie talked about
future plans for me as if I were not present. At that point I was beyond caring.
When we arrived Goldie was told to assist me and Mrs. Winston coldly reminded me
to be on time for work on Monday. I recall how I struggled upstairs to the
safety of my bedroom.

And now two weeks later, here I was, back in my bedroom, looking at the clock
knowing it was time to get dressed. I was very upset with the prospects of what
was waiting for me. I was equally upset with the day I had just spent. Not
seeing John always had a bad effect on me. Now the fact that he was mad at me
made everything worse. How would I be able to handle his call tomorrow. What
condition would I be in. Would I even be able to talk at all. After the incident
at the Drs. office I had to tell him I was very sick and could not see him or
even talk very much. When I did finally see him on the following Wednesday I
lied about still feeling ill and asked him to leave early. All night I was in
terrible fear of the bruises on my body and was afraid of any intimate contact.
That was one time I was glad John is not an affectionate person. I would have to
figure out a way to deal with our sex life, as I was not sure what damage would
be done to me. The only encouraging thing was the fact that I was completely
healed from the beating and the injections in about a week. I resigned myself to
take it one day at a time. No use worrying about next week or even tomorrow, I
had to get through tonight first.

I went into the bathroom for a quick shower as per Mrs. Winstons instructions.
All the other hygienic preparations had been completed earlier. The note was
also very explicit as to hair and make up so I took a little extra time at the
mirror. Applying the make up as suggested in the note I almost cried with the
irony of the situation. Here I was getting made up to be tortured and used as a
sex object by a group of perverts. I could not help feeling sorry for myself.
What a disaster I had made of my life. And not even for any good reason. I never
even wore most of the things I bought with the money I had stolen. All these
thoughts would do me no good now I had to be strong in order to survive the
impending ordeal.

As much as I tried not to think about it, I could not keep my mind from
wandering. What forms of punishment would be used on me? What kind of sex acts
would I be forced to perform? The horror of being with another woman. As the
time for the first party was almost here, all the thoughts and fears were at a
fever pitch.

All other preparations complete, I went to the bottom of my closet and took out
the package of clothing I was given. The note said that I must wear only what
was in the package with a coat over it. I had not given it any advance thought,
but as I opened the bag the same feelings as I had in the office ladies room
with Goldie returned. I was staring at several pieces of strange lingerie. First
was a white heavily constructed 1/2 cup push up bra. Without even putting it on
I knew I would be very lewdly exposed and displayed in this garment. Being bare
breasted would be less embarrassing. Next was an article that was unfamiliar to
me. It was a old fashioned garter belt. It was very wide and heavily constructed
with 6 garters. It appeared to be specially made and was reinforced with steel
rods. and strong hooks. Of most concern to me were the four steel rings in the
front, back and sides. I was afraid to even contemplate their purpose. This also
was white. To finish the ensemble was a pair of black nylons and a pair of red
come fuck me shoes, as I call them.

Just looking at the underwear had me flushed with embarrassment. The thought of
being exhibited in front of at least 6 people dressed like this. I fought to
hold back the tears as I began to dress. The bra was very tight and hard to get
on and as expected exposed more than it concealed. My 34-D breasts appeared as
they had after the injections. They were almost twice their normal size and
stood high on my chest. The design of the cups left the nipples exposed but
otherwise held firmly. Looking in the mirror I had one thought only, total
vulnerability. The garter belt was a nightmare. It was so tight it took several
attempts to even get one hook caught. Having long finger nails I often have a
tough time with buttons and hooks. By the time this was fastened I was in a
sweat. It was so tight around my normally small waist I had the felling that my
internal organs were being rearranged. Once it was adjusted in its proper
position normal movement became difficult. Even breathing was a chore. Looking
down I could not help but wonder what purpose the rings would serve.

As I was about to try and figure out their purpose I realized it was only a few
minutes before 6. My instructions were very precise about being in front of my
house ready to be picked up at exactly 6 pm. I slipped on the shoes and almost
stumbled at the first step due to the height of the heels, they were highest I
had ever worn. As I went to the closet for my coat I could not help stopping in
front of the mirror and taking a good look at myself. The image reflecting back
could not be me. The woman I saw was indeed beautiful, but also very exposed and
vulnerable. The most obvious part of the picture were the eyes, they had a look
of fear, sadness, despair, and no hope whatever. They had the look of a slave.

The End of Part # 1 Continued in,

A Year of Slavery # 2-1

"The First Party"

A Year of Slavery # 2-1

" The First Party "

By: debs

Edited by: Johnny P

The limousine arrived precisely at 6 pm. The chauffeur quickly and silently
opened the door for me to get in. To my embarrassment I realized he was the same
man who had driven me to the Drs. office and home after my first ordeal. He had
seen the condition I was in and heard me sobbing in the back seat. As our eyes
briefly met I felt a hot flush come over me. I wondered exactly what did he
know? What kind of a person did he think I was? Did he know what horrors awaited
me?

He remained silent as I slid into the back of the car.

As expected sitting was not an easy task. The strange undergarments made it very
uncomfortable. Within minutes we were on the expressway headed out of Brooklyn
towards Long Island. I had made this trip several times during my employment to
Mr. Winston. Those trips had been either for meetings or social events. This
time would be much different. We drove in complete silence. This only made the
journey seem longer. I could not help wondering what was in the chauffeurs mind.
Did he know why I was being brought to the Winstons. Had he driven other women
to the same fate that awaited me. My mind was a maze of questions. The deeper
into thought I ventured, the more confused I became. The thought of demanding to
be brought back home even crossed my mind. That was quickly replaced by the fear
of the consequences.

I had in fact signed a contract and confession of guilt. If for any reason I did
not follow the instructions I would be arrested immediately and sent to prison.
As much as I feared my impending ordeals, the thought of five years in the place
I had seen in the video left me little choice. The silence and the fear were
working on my nervous system so I ventured to try a conversation. I asked how
long before we arrived at our destination. My reply was complete silence. Out of
frustration I asked if he knew the purpose of my trip. The only reply was a
quick backward glance in my direction. I realized any effort to communicate was
futile, this man was well trained. Again I sat back in my seat trying to find a
somewhat comfortable position. As I looked out of the window I saw a sign that
read exit 36 1 mile. We were almost at the Winstons home. I knew from past
experience it would only be about another ten minutes before we arrived. I
immediately felt a knot start to form deep in the pit of my stomach. The terror
of what would happen to me was again beginning to take its toll. My body was
starting to shake uncontrollably and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I
opened the window to get some air as I felt a wave of nausea come over me. I
took several deep breaths and tried to control my fears. I knew I had to regain
my composure or I was truly doomed.

I had gone over this night in my mind many times and resigned myself to the fact
that I would have to use all my strength and will power to survive. I looked up
in time to see the chauffeur almost staring at me through the rear view mirror.
I felt instantly embarrassed at the spectacle I was making of myself. I rolled
up the window and sat back in the seat not wishing to further humiliate myself.
I lit a cigarette thinking this could be the last for quite a while. As I tried
to relax for the last few minutes of the journey my mind took over and brought
into focus all the thoughts I had been having for the past two weeks.

I had resigned myself to certain facts. I was sure I would be exhibited like
some prize animal. The lingerie I was wearing made that very obvious. The fact
that I would be beaten and tortured in various ways was made very clear to me by
comments made by the Winstons. I also knew I would be used in many different
ways as a sex slave by the group of men and women. The thought of being forced
into various sexual acts with the men was horrible, but I knew I could get
through that. It was the prospect of sex with the women that was totally
revolting.

I had never been with a woman and for some strange reason feared them much more
than I feared the men. It was probably a fear of the unknown. There was nothing
sexual a man could do to me that had not been done before. I quickly thought of
the worst case scenario. I might be forced to give someone a blow-job. I've done
that before. Although it was not high on my list, I would get through it. I also
thought of the possibility of being fucked in the ass. Again, I had done it
before and would survive. The women were different. I had seen videos showing
women having sex with each other. The thought of sucking another breast or
eating someone's pussy absolutely turned my stomach. As I began to delve deeper
into these most distressing thoughts the car made a sudden turn. As I looked up
I realized we were in the driveway of the Winstons house. As we drove up to the
front door we passed three large imported luxury cars which I had never seen
before. The one closest to the door was a new Mercedes 600 SEL. It was black
with dark tinted windows. For some strange reason just the appearance of that
car sent a shiver through my body. It reminded me of old war movies I had seen
were the German Gestapo had similar cars. They would take some poor woman away
to be tortured. The only difference here was I was coming to them. The chauffeur
opened my door and extended his hand to help me out. Getting out of the car was
even more difficult than getting in. The constricting clothing I was wearing
made movement awkward. As I stretched my leg out to the pavement my coat parted
revealing me almost to the waist. As I looked up the chauffeurs eyes was locked
on my near nakedness. His greedy stare was taking in the fact that I was not
wearing anything but the garter belt under the coat leaving my pussy totally
exposed. As I looked up my eyes met his and to my surprise I detected a
sympathetic look.

Before I had a chance to say a word, he in a kind and gentle tone told me to be
strong and hang in. He also assured me that he would be there to make sure I was
all right, and got home safely. His change of attitude caught me off guard.
Before I could think about it the door opened and Goldie was telling me to come
inside. As I walked into the large entrance hall I heard the door close behind
me. The sound made me realize how alone and vulnerable I was. It served to
remind me of the title I had been given, slave. I was startled by Goldies voice.
She sarcastically told me how good it was to see me again. As I looked in her
direction I could not help seeing the way she was looking at me. I had seen the
same hungry glare in the Drs. office and the ladies room at work. I quickly
turned my focus from her eyes to what she was wearing. It was not her normal
maids uniform. Instead it was a tight black dress, dark stockings and black high
heels.

Before I had a chance to analyze the maids strange attire my thoughts were
interrupted by the sound of spike heels on the marble floor. It was Mrs.
Winston. As she approached all my deepest fears surfaced and I felt my body
begin to involuntarily shake. I had to reach deep into myself to find the
strength to regain what little composure I had left. As she came closer I could
not help noticing her clothes. She was wearing a short red leather skirt, a
black silk blouse, black nylons and red high heels. It was in total contrast to
her normally conservative style. Instead of any kind of greeting she said in a
stern voice that it was a good thing I was on time. Next I was asked if I was
wearing what she had provided, and if I had followed all the instructions I had
been given. The look on her face and the tone of her voice frightened me. In a
panic I mentally retraced all the preparations I had put myself through. Because
of the fear this woman had instilled in me without thinking I confessed to not
completing the last enema.

Mrs. Winston became angry and demanded to know why. I told her I had tried my
best but could not hold as much as she had instructed. With a smirk on her face
she said that was too bad and that other provisions would be made in the future.
I was afraid to ask what she meant. Next I was ordered to remove my coat so she
could see how I looked. Goldie took my bag and my fingers began to fumble with
the buttons of my last remaining line of defense. No sooner was the last button
undone did Goldie practically rip the coat off my shoulders.

Both women wasted little time surveying the bizarre costume I had been ordered
to wear. They both feasted on my near nakedness. Slowly they walked around me to
glimpse every angle. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Finally Mrs.
Winston looked directly at me and congratulated herself on the fine selection
and fit. Her only complaint was that the hooks on the cincher should be tighter
and ordered Goldie to make the adjustment. Despite my protests concerning the
difficulty in breathing, the cincher was immediately made smaller. The effect
was devastating. It felt as if my rib cage was being crushed. The simple act of
taking a breath caused pain and discomfort. My protests were answered by being
told that I would get used to it and soon would have other problems to think
about.

Next Goldie was told to put the cuffs on me. There on a small table were four
leather straps which I had not noticed. As the maid began to engulf my wrists in
the fur lined straps, Mrs. Winston explained how these cuffs had been made
especially for me and would hold me in any position they deemed appropriate, yet
would not cause any bruises. As two more were fastened to my ankles Mrs. Winston
sarcastically said that any bruises I did receive would not be visible to the
general public and would be confined to the area between my knees and neck.
After the four cuffs had been secured to Mrs. Winstons satisfaction I learned
what the rings on the sides of the cincher were for. By means of small clips, my
wrists were fastened to my sides. This left my hands and arms immobile and of no
use in trying to defend myself. It also brought my shoulders back bringing my
breasts into greater prominence. Now totally satisfied, Mrs. Winston announced
it was time for me to meet the others. As I was led through the house I realized
for the first time that during my time in the hall I did not hear sounds other
than our own. Passing the living room and entering the den I wondered where the
others were. Could they be upstairs I thought as we passed the stairway. We then
stopped at a door which I had seen many times but never noticed. I had just
assumed it was a closet. Suddenly Goldie produced a key and unlocked the door.
It opened to a long staircase which lead to the basement. In all my previous
visits to the house I never knew there was a floor below the main level. I was
told to follow Mrs. Winston as we began our decent with Goldie at the rear.
There was nothing at all peculiar about the stairway, it was well decorated and
luxuriously carpeted. As I slowly followed, cautious of the extremely high
heels, I felt a terrible sense of danger. All of a sudden the recollection of
the hidden room in the basement of the Drs. office crashed into my mind. I felt
the sudden urge to turn and run but I knew there was no escaping my fate. I was
trapped in more ways than one. I could not believe my stupidity for stealing the
money in the first place. And the reason was even more pathetic, to buy clothes.

The stairs led to a large ornate door which was also locked. This time it was
Mrs. Winston who produced the key and opened the door. As it opened a wave of
panic came over me and I turned and tried to run. I knew once in the room I was
truly doomed. Just as she had done before Goldie grabbed me and easily forced me
in as Mrs. Winston locked the door behind us. Once inside I gazed at my
surroundings in total awe. It was an extremely large well lit room. The area
closest to the door resembled a well appointed living room. In the far corner to
the left was an area that looked exactly like a hospital operating room. It was
complete with white tile and overhead lights. The opposite corner resembled a
medieval dungeon. It had stone walls, floors and large wooden devices. My only
thought was what kind of hell had I entered. This had to be some kind of
nightmare. This could not be real. I could not be here.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a womans muffled scream. That was
when I realized other people were already here. I squinted towards the bright
lights of the hospital area and focused on four other figures. Just then the two
women grabbed me by the arms and pulled me towards the group, saying it was time
to join the party.

The first person I recognized was Mr. Winston. His attire was strange to me as I
was used to always seeing him in a suit and tie. Now he wore only black slacks
and a magnificent black smoking jacket. Next my eyes came to focus on the
dreaded Dr. Kim. Just the sight of her along with the memory of the excruciating
pain she had caused brought bone chilling fear. Then to my horror I recognized
the woman from the video. It was the prison wardress. Before her ominous figure
had a chance to fully register my eyes came upon a man whose very presence
commanded the room. He was tall, very well built, probably in his 50s with long
silver hair and absolutely gorgeous. He wore jeans, a white dress shirt with too
many buttons open and loafers the same color as the slightly faded but perfectly
tailored jeans. As he looked in my direction I had to turn away in total
embarrassment. I should be meeting this man wearing an evening gown, not some
lingerie that made me a sexual exhibit.

I was so taken aback by the silver haired man that I stopped my inspection of
the room. A loud pained female moan made me look up again. I now saw what had
everyone's attention. There was a woman strapped to the examining table.
Although it was hard to see her I could clearly hear her pained sobs. Mrs.
Winston and Goldie both started dragging me toward the group. Mrs. Winston was
saying it was time for me to be formally introduced. The first one to pay any
attention to me was the wardress.

She walked toward us with her eyes riveted to me. I could actually feel her
stare consuming every curve and crevice of my body. Her cat like eyes seemed to
have the ability to remove what little clothing I did have on. Mrs. Winston then
took the opportunity to formally introduce us. She said Debbie I want you to
meet Ms. Collins. She is the wardress of the state prison for women. Before I
could say or do anything the wardress tilted my head back with one finger placed
under my chin. I had been looking at the floor afraid to look directly at her.
She continued her examination of me and finally told Mrs. Winston what an
excellent specimen she had found. She added that I was much better in person and
the pictures did me no justice. She was only sorry that I did not choose to take
the prison term because of all the fun and games she was sure she would miss out
on. She went on to say that not only did she regret my decision but she was sure
that the guards and other inmates would have found me a choice morsel. As I
looked at this woman I found her even more attractive in person than I had
remembered from the video. She was taller and larger than I had expected.
Although her face was that of a mature woman, her body would be envied by woman
half her age.

Her clothing and jewelry were magnificent, definitely Armani and Cartier. The
understated elegance of the black two piece suit did little to hide the
voluptuous body it tried to conceal. The more I looked at this woman the more I
feared her. That coupled with what I had seen her do in the video had me biting
my lip and digging my fingernails into my palms.

Just then the woman on the table let out a very loud moan and Mrs. Winston
suggested we see what was going on and meet the others. As we got to the table
Mrs. Winston said I of course knew Mr. Winston and the Dr. but she wanted me to
meet Mr. and Mrs. Gund. The man with the silver hair turned toward me and in a
thick German accent introduced himself in an extremely cordial way as Herr Gund.
He then gestured to the table and said that the woman strapped down was his wife
Laura. He then took the opportunity to visually examine my exposed form and
congratulate Mrs. Winston on her fine acquisition. The man had a definite air of
self assurance and arrogance, yet he projected power and wealth. The Mercedes
parked outside had to be his, the car fit the man. My mind was in turmoil. The
room. The people. The knowledge of why I was here. All I could do was stand
there in silence. I remembered my instructions. Never speak unless asked a
question and foremost never address anyone without the title Master or Mistress.
I thought of some of the things that were done to me already. I also thought of
what could be done now and in the future. This was after all only the first of
twelve such parties. I remembered Mrs. Winstons words,"twelve parties, medical
examinations, fittings and whatever other preparations are necessary". I just
stood there and silently prayed I would be able to survive the up coming year.
What tortures would I be made to endure? How many sexual deviations would I be
used for? I wondered how I would manage to conduct a somewhat normal family
life? And most of all how would I keep John from finding out. A smack to the
back of my head by Goldie brought me to attention. Mrs. Winston wanted me to
come closer to the table so I would be able to see what was being done to Laura.
The closer I got the worse the sight became. She was on her back well secured to
the table by straps around her wrists, ankles, thighs and a wide strap across
the top of her breasts. She also had a strap across her forehead much like the
one I had on me when I was at the Drs. office. The worst part of what I saw was
the large funnel that was strapped into her mouth. It was hard to see what her
face looked like because of the straps and the way her cheeks bulged out.

She had long blonde hair and seemed to be about the same size as me. She was
wearing a black bra, garter belt and stockings. Her breasts were not as large as
mine but stood out well in the position she was in. It was then that I noticed
her stomach. It was very swollen and for a minute I wondered if she were
pregnant. I thought she might be getting an enema but as I glanced down, saw no
tube. I did notice a large butt plug in her ass. I also saw the same type of
catheter tube coming out of her that was used on me. Just then she began to moan
and to my horror everything became clear.

The Dr. was pouring a pitcher of steaming liquid into the funnel. Laura's
reaction was instant. I watched her eyes bulge and heard her muffled screams as
the Dr. poured the hot liquid into her mouth. Her stomach swelled even more and
she was immediately covered in sweat. As I had done when I was strapped to the
table in the Drs. office, she was pulling on the bonds and thrashing as much as
possible. As the Dr. emptied the pitcher she quickly reached for a full one and
I heard Laura scream as much as the funnel would allow.

I had to turn away. Watching this torture being done I realized that it could as
easily be me on the table. Mrs. Winston saw my reaction and came closer to me
and began to explain what was being done. She told me that not only was Laura
Mr. Gund's wife, she was also his slave. She added that although Laura was a
slave, she was allowed to assume the role of dominant over other females.

She continued to explain how recently she had committed the indiscretion of
spitting out her husbands cum while giving him a blow job. He had decided that
some form of oral punishment would be in order and took this opportunity to have
the Dr. do it for him. She went on to explain how the funnel was attached to a
tube that was down Lauras throat. She said that the Dr. planned to pour over a
gallon of hot soapy water into the woman and then leave her secured to the table
while she considers her terrible conduct. She also pointed out to me that Laura
had the catheter in her and was also well plugged with an inflatable butt plug.
That way she would have to hold the entire contents until her husband thought
she had suffered enough. Mrs. Winstons last comment to me was to remember what I
was seeing. She said this could easily be done to me if I had any problems with
giving blow jobs, eating pussies, or anything else I might be ordered to do with
my mouth. I was then told that since this was my first time in their so called
playroom, I would be given a little tour. This would help familiarize me with
the various devices that in all probability would be used on me. Mrs. Winston
continued by needlessly pointing out the fact that the area we now stood in was
very much like the special room in the basement of the Drs. office. The memories
of what had been done in that room came crashing into my brain.

The elaborate gynecological table to which Laura was bound being the same as the
one I had been bound to. All the tools necessary to inflict the maximum amount
of pain on a female were all present. The same type of syringes that had been
used on my breasts were all neatly displayed. The mere sight of them caused a
wave of nausea to overtake me. I remembered the intense pain the fluids in my
breasts had caused and thought about the days of suffering I endured until the
swelling had gone down.

I saw an open cabinet which contained an assortment of dildos. Some seemed too
large to be used on any female. What made seeing them even worse was the fact
that I knew from experience how they could be used. I had been given a small
demonstration by Mrs. Winston. Looking at some of the larger dildos I realized
that the anal rape I received at her hand could have been much worse. She must
have seen the expression on my face and asked what I found so interesting. Her
question caught me off guard and I replied without thought about the size of the
dildos. I was told not to be alarmed since the larger ones would not be used on
me until I was properly prepared.

She continued in her sarcastic tone to tell me how I would be gradually
stretched until I was able to take even the biggest one in either of my
openings. As much as I tried not to look at the bound woman on the table a
particularly loud moan caught my attention. As I looked down at Laura, her
stomach now even more grossly distended than it had been only a few minutes ago,
I realized she was begging through the funnel. Mrs. Winston just looked down at
her and said there was nothing she could do, the length of her ordeal was up to
Mr. Gund and the Dr.

The sight was too terrible for me to behold. Laura was bathed in sweat, her eyes
were glazed over and she was in uncontrollably spasms. The sight of another
woman being tortured was not an easy thing to see. It only served to remind me
of the unenviable position I was in. A slight tug to my arm by Mrs. Winston
signaled the continuation of the tour.

I was now shown an area almost hidden from view just off the medical section. It
also was completely made of white tile and very well lit. Before I was able to
focus on the rooms contents, I was informed that this was the water room where
most of the douches and enemas were administered. In the center of the room was
a apparatus that resembled an old gynecological table. It was all shiny metal,
with no padding. As with the other tables, binding straps hung all around it.
Against one wall was a metal tray that was big enough for a person to lie in. It
resembled a bathtub with shallow sides. Upon further examination I noticed it
had a large drain and like most of what I had seen so far was fitted with
binding straps. Set into this apparatus was a set of gleaming steel bars which
formed what looked like a table with no top. Again the ever present straps. In
the corner stood a platform with a thick pipe sticking out of it. The pipe was
about two feet high and had a large dildo attached to the end sticking straight
up. At the front of the platform were a series of valves and gauges. There were
also rings at the edges and a chain hanging from the ceiling above it. In the
opposite corner was a toilet bowl. It just sat in the open exposed to the view
of anyone looking.

I could only imagine what terrible ordeals could be carried out in this room. As
ridiculous as it now sounds I shuddered at the thought of sitting on that bowl
with no privacy at all. Before I was able to let my mind wander too far, my
attention was directed to the opposite wall.

Mrs. Winston took a sinister joy in showing me all the hoses which were attached
to an elaborate plumbing system. On the same wall were rows of shelves neatly
lined with douche and enema nozzles of every size and shape. I was told that
there was a specific nozzle for any desired effect. Some could be inserted into
the upper intestine, while others were made to fit into a woman's uterus. Some
could be expanded to unimaginable proportions, while others had the ability of
being electrified. My expression must have given away some of my thoughts. Mrs.
Winston only smiled at me and said how she looked forward to trying them all on
me. My fears were increasing by the minute. I was beginning to realize that what
had been done to me at the Drs. office was nothing compared to what could be
done here.

Next I was directed to a set of shelves on which many bottles were stored. I was
told that they contained an assortment of chemicals that could be used in the
douches and enemas. They ranged from simple soap to things I had never heard of.
I can not even begin to describe the gut wrenching fear I was experiencing. I
was in the hands of a group of complete lunatics and totally at their mercy. As
we exited the room I thought of the enemas I was instructed to give myself
earlier that afternoon. I remembered the pain they had caused and knew that was
nothing compared to what these fiends would subject me to in this room. Is we
walked across the medical area, as I will refer to it, we came upon a section of
the basement that was in total contrast. This section

had stone walls and floors. All the apparatuses were constructed of heavy dark
wood. Before I had a chance to react Mrs. Winston said that this was their
version of a medieval torture chamber. She said how proud they were of this
re-creation. It had taken great expense and many months to have it built to
specifications taken from old European dungeons. She went on to say that I
probably would not know the purpose of the different things I saw so she would
give me a brief explanation of each.

First I was shown what she referred to as the rack. It was a long low table with
ropes and pulleys on each end. I was told how I could be tied to it and
stretched out until my joints were pulled to the point of dislocation. I could
also be stretched until my skin became very taut and then I could be whipped.
She said these were the main things that were done on this but I could be sure
there were many variations I would not enjoy.

Next I was shown what she referred to as a simple whipping post and an x-frame.
These along with a long bench like device were used mainly for whipping. Before
I could analyze what I was being shown my attention was brought to what she
called the pillory. I had seen something similar in movies about the pilgrims.
They were in the town square and people would be bent with their necks and arms
in the holes. As if she read my thoughts she said that I would recognize this
from old movies but quickly pointed out some differences.

There was a large platform on which the legs of the victim could be spread and
attached. She also told me that since they were dealing primarily with females,
the top had been modified. It enabled them to change a piece and secure a
woman's breasts into the holes. Again in her sarcastic tone she explained how
this did not work on everyone but given the fact that my breasts were large,
would indeed work well on me.

Hearing her comment I looked down at my chest that was quite exaggerated by the
bra I was forced to wear and thought of my sisters. I had often made comments in
jest about their size calling them tit-less. Now I wished I was a 34-A like them
instead of my more than ample 34-D. Before I could finish the thought I was
pushed toward what resembled a massive chair.

I could see that it was attached to the floor with large bolts. Upon further
examination I saw that it had no actual seat. Instead there boards where the
thighs would rest. It did not take much thought to realize that this would leave
your ass and pussy open and vulnerable. As with the other devices there were
heavy leather straps dangling from the arms, legs and back.

Mrs. Winston was helpful in showing me an assortment of wooden and metal
attachments hanging on a wall next to the chair. She said that this was one of
their most versatile torture instruments. There were pieces that could be put on
the seat so dildos could be attached. Other pieces were lined with small needles
for the victim to sit on. She pointed to an attachment that when put in place
formed a platform. It was made to fit under the breasts of the woman in the
chair. This she explained was invaluable for tit torture.

There was that phrase again. I had heard it in the Drs. office during my
examination and I remembered what the Dr. had said. Because of the size and
shape of my breasts I would be able to take a lot of tit torture. If the
injections I had received were any indication, I doubted I would be able to take
as much as they planned to give me.

I have always considered my breasts one of the most sensitive parts of my body.
I remember routine mammograms done by my own Dr. I would be crying openly when
they were put in the ex-ray machine and pressed. Now looking at this chair and
listening to what was being said, the thought of having my breasts, one of my
most valuable assets tortured, caused an even deeper sense of anguish.

Ever since I was a young girl and started to develop my chest was one of the
things about myself I was most proud of. As I grew older I would take every
opportunity to wear things low cut or tight that showed off the creamy white
cleavage. Again as if she were some kind of wizard, Mrs. Winston seemed to read
my thoughts. She said how much fun they would all have torturing the tits I had
been so willing to flaunt. Then she said that I should not worry too much
because they promised not to cause any permanent injury. Also I should not be so
sullen at the mention of tit torture alone. They planned to hurt my cunt, ass
and every other part of my body. The comment and my expression brought about a
hearty laugh by Mrs. Winston. Next to the chair was what looked like a simple
sawhorse. Mrs. Winston told me how I would be bound over it for an assortment of
punishments. Pointing at the upper edge she said I would also be made to ride
it. I was not sure of what she meant until she made me look closer.

I saw that the top was cut into a narrow triangle with small wedges that looked
like sawteeth. I must have had a puzzled look on my face because she again
laughed, called me stupid and said " I guess you do not know what I mean by
riding it". To my horror she explained how I would be hung from the ceiling with
my legs astride so my cunt was on the top edge supporting my full weight.

She was a master at her game. The real torture had not even begun and I was
suffering untold agonies in my mind. I had heard of mental torture and now for
the first time realized its total effectiveness. Just as I was being directed to
the corner of this area, we were interrupted by the Wardress. She informed Mrs.
Winston that the others were eager to begin with the festivities. She added that
she also wanted to begin. Mrs. Winston replied that she was almost through with
the tour and only had the tank left to show me. The wardress asked if she could
explain its uses since she had one very similar at the prison and used it often.
In response Mrs. Winston said "please be my guest". I watched Mrs. Winston walk
off to a small area that resembled a living room with couches, chairs and coffee
tables. The Wardress grabbed my arm in a vise like grip and walked me to the
corner of the room.

They said I would be shown the tank. There was nothing I could see except a
large board on the floor. The Wardress commanded me not to move as she let go of
my arm. She went and moved the piece of wood out of the way. That exposed what
appeared to be a large hole in the floor. It was about the size of a large
garbage can and was pure white. That was in total contrast to the rest of this
area. It had a thick clear plastic cover that was split down its length with
three holes. The center hole was larger than the two end ones and it resembled
the pillory. I could clearly see locks which held the cover in place. Visible
inside were several openings in the sides and base. Mounted to the wall next to
it was an elaborate control panel with a small trap door underneath. As I was
trying to figure out what its purpose was the wardress pushed me toward it and
said I should take a closer look so I would know what would happen when I was
put into it. Now that Ms. Collins or the wardress as I had come to know her
stood next to me I realized how big a woman she was. In the 5 inch heels I was
forced to wear I stood nearly 6 feet tall. This woman had at least 3 inches on
me. She was also much broader than my size 6 frame. What surprised me most was
the strength of her grip on my arm. The words being whispered in my ear brought
my attention back to the tank. I was told how I would be made to climb down into
it. Then the clear plastic cover would be put around my wrists and neck and
locked into place. For the first time since the tour had began I was asked if I
understood. I did not, and when I failed to reply the Wardress sarcastically
called me stupid. She then began to explain in more detail. She told me that
this device was designed for more diabolical forms of torture. Once I was locked
in place, they would all be able to relax and watch the show I would put on. My
questioning look brought an evil smirk to her face. I was told that none of the
previous occupants of the tank understood its full potential until they had
experienced it. Then they would promise and do almost anything not to be put in
again.

She was playing a game with me and doing a very good job of it. As horrible as
some of the other things I had seen were, this was worse in a different way. It
had no obvious way of causing pain. As if she too was able to read my thoughts
she started to tell me how once locked in place a variety of things would
happen. For example, after a severe whipping the tank could be filled with a
mixture of salt, lemon, vinegar, alcohol and hot water. Screaming, I could be
kept in it until my skin almost blistered.

Another variation was to be submerged in ice cold water which would cause
violent shaking and muscular cramping. Now I was beginning to understand her
warnings. Before I could say a word she opened a little cabinet near the tank
and showed me about a dozen large glass jars. As had been the case with
everything else these people did, all of the jars were neatly arranged and
clearly marked. I began to silently read the labels and as my brain absorbed
what I saw, I screamed and turned to run. Through all the events that lead up to
this moment I had tried to act stoic and accept my fate. I kept telling myself
that somehow I would get through it. After all, I was guilty of stealing a large
sum of money. I had also made the choice between a year of slavery or five years
in prison. The Winstons were very clear about the fact that as retribution, I
would have to be punished. What I was seeing was beyond punishment. It was
beyond the limits of female endurance. I ran aimlessly toward the door screaming
for help. With my arms fastened to the sides of the cincher it was hard to
maintain balance. The five inch heels also made it easy to catch me. Within a
few seconds Goldie and the wardress were dragging me back toward the tank. I was
in a state of absolute panic. As bad as what had already been done to me, or
what I had seen or heard had been, it paled in comparison to the prospect of
those jars.

It took the efforts of both women to hold me near the open cabinet. In my mind
this had be the worst form of torture that could be used on me. Ever since I was
a child I had a tremendous fear of bugs, snakes or rodents. I believe most woman
do. Now I was staring at glass jars full of these creatures. The wardress was
the first to speak. I was told that my reaction was not uncommon. Most of the
victims who were faced with the inhabitants of the jars would submit to almost
anything instead. Some would even inflict pain onto themselves. She completely
disregarded my pleas and struggles and continued to tell me how I could be
locked in the tank with the contents of any of the jars. To make her point she
picked up one that was labeled Leeches. As I stared at the slimy things she told
me how they could be added to the water, along with me. Before I was able to say
a word she replaced that jar and showed me one labeled Blood Worms.

On and on she went. I saw small Snakes, Mice, Hamsters, Spiders, several types
of Ants, Bees and even 2 large eels. As if I had not seen or heard enough she
told me how in her tank at the prison she would often put an uncooperative girl
in along with a cat. Once water started going in the cat would become frantic
trying to escape and severely scratch and even bite who ever was in the tank. To
further make her point the Wardress ran her hand over the mounds of my breasts
and asked "imagine the cats claws and teeth digging into these". The point was
indeed made. Although I had very few choices, I would submit to almost any form
of punishment or degradation to avoid this torture. Just seeing the different
creatures gave me a good indication of what could happen once I was locked in
place. I was beaten and I knew it. I stopped struggling and just relaxed in the
grip of the two women. Just what I had seen took most of the fight out of me.
The wardress had me terrified and she knew it. I guess she wanted to see me
squirm so she continued.

She made me listen as she described one of her favorites. As Goldie held me the
Wardress again squeezed my breasts and told me how she would make a paste out of
Honey and Corn Meal. The mixture would then be painted on my tits, around my ass
and all over my pussy. For emphasis she released my breasts and ran her long
nails along the sides of my pussy. Without warning she even jabbed a sharp nail
into me and said "I make sure I get a lot in here".

Then she said I would be locked in the tank. To demonstrate what she was saying
she opened the trap door and showed me how it lead to the inside of the tank.
Then she would put a hungry chicken in with me. I felt my eyes bulge in
disbelief as she said, "think how you'll scream as the chickens sharp beak takes
little bites out of you as it tries to get the food". She scraped me as she
pulled out her finger and added "it can even reach in here". With my head down I
walked docilely with them as I was lead toward the area that resembled a living
room or den.ÿ


A Year Of Slavery # 2-2

" The First Party "

The wardress took a seat and was served a drink by Goldie. All of the other
guests except Laura were lounging with drinks awaiting my arrival. I was
directed to stand in front of them as they all looked me over and made comments.
The Dr. stood up and began to read from a folder. She said that all the tests
they ran were satisfactory and I was in excellent health. She also told everyone
that pursuant to my examinations, she was of the opinion that I would be able to
endure a lot of abuse. All she had seen also indicated that I could be used for
all of their favorite activities, with few limitations. She added that as usual
both of my openings would have to be stretched. Her suggestion was that we
should begin in this area to see what I could take and to show my obedience. I
stood there not knowing what she meant as the others voiced their agreement.
Goldie was given orders by Mrs. Winston and went to a closet for the necessary
objects. I silently watched as a small tripod was set up and a plastic box was
put on the table in front of me. The Dr. then said as she uncovered the box that
it contained six numbered dildos of increasing size. I was to attach them to the
stand starting with #1 and at her direction insert them into the opening she
chose.

A jar of Vaseline was put on the table. She said it would make it easier for me.
At that point I was in no mood for her jokes. How could this be made easy. But
after what I had seen on my so called tour I had no options at all. I quickly
looked at the group trying to find some reprieve but found none. Instead I saw
them all adjusting themselves for a better view. Suddenly Goldie stepped toward
me carrying a whip about three feet long. She put it down on the table and began
to unbutton her dress. In an instant she stood next to me wearing a heavily
constructed long white bra and a massive girdle with garters. The stark
whiteness was a total contrast to her ebony skin and the near black stockings.
She was indeed a large woman. Her breasts spilled over the bra top and the
girdle looked as if it would burst around her hips and thighs. My main concern
was why she was next to me with the whip.

My question was answered by the Dr. She told me that if they did not approve of
my efforts in getting the dildos inside myself, Goldie would whip me. The Dr.
undid the clips holding my wrists to the cincher and I was instructed to begin
with dildo #2 in my pussy. I knew protest of any kind was useless. It was time
for me to begin. What choice did I have. I was their slave. I looked into the
box and saw six compartments with a dildo in each. I reached for #2 without
looking at the rest. I did not want to see them just yet. The threat of Goldies
whip made me move quickly. I screwed the rubber dildo onto the stand and reached
for the Vaseline. I took notice of its size as I spread the lubricant. It was
about 8 inches long and 1 1/2 inches wide. It was almost the same size as one I
had at home and had used on myself many times while masturbating. The fact that
I knew I would be able to handle it brought some relief. I was still very
nervous and felt a deep sense of fear and humiliation. Goldie started to pick up
the whip and I immediately stepped over the dildo and began to squat.

I kept my eyes toward the floor as I spread myself and began my descent onto the
rubber cylinder. I sensed the group devouring my shame as I continued to push
down and also felt my body flush with embarrassment. Although it was a little
uncomfortable I was able to get most of the dildo inside myself fairly quickly.
This brought about a torrent of lewd remarks from the spectators. I was still
looking toward the floor when I heard the Dr. tell me how well I did. Now I
should show them how I could get it down my throat. Not wanting any part of the
whip in Goldies hand I stood up letting the well greased dildo slide out of my
pussy. With no wasted motion I got to my knees and opened my mouth over the
source of my humiliation.

I had at least half of it in my mouth before I began to gag. This only brought
laughter and more comments from the group and a warning from the Dr. to get it
all in. As hard as I tried I was only able to take about two more inches before
I started choking and brought my head up.

As I did I felt the first stroke of the whip on the back of my unprotected
thighs. I screamed and threw myself on the floor as much from pain as from
surprise. It felt as if I had been touched by a red hot poker. The whip was
totally different from the strap that had been used on me in the Drs. Office.
Its pain was more concentrated and was a lot more intense. Before I could regain
my composure the Dr. was ordering me to my feet. I obeyed the command quickly,
not wanting another taste of the whip.

As I stood up the Dr. said what a poor showing I had made and warned me that I
would have to do better in the future. With no hesitation she then told me to
get it up my ass. Not wanting to anger her any more and face another stroke of
the whip I adjusted myself over the dildo. As I reached behind to spread I
looked up to see all the faces staring and heard more of their remarks. Some of
them were even betting on how many inches I could take. Their comments served as
an inspiration. I realized that I better take as much of the smaller dildos as
possible because I would be whipped when I was not able to take the larger ones.
As the dildo penetrated my ass I remembered the enemas I had given myself that
morning. As bad as they had been I was glad I followed the instructions. It made
what I was now forced to do a lot easier. With a little discomfort and a lot of
inspiration provided by Goldies whip I was able to get the entire dildo inside
myself. This brought instant congratulations from the Dr. and more comments from
the others. One of the women ordered me to fuck the dildo. Without looking up I
did as I was told. So far this was bearable but I knew it would get worse. The
next dildo went about the same as the one marked #2. I was able to get it in all
my openings without another taste of the whip. When I was ordered to attach #4
to the stand I felt a knot start in the pit of my stomach. This one was at least
10 inches long and 2 inches wide. While forcing it into my pussy I felt the whip
one time.

They were not satisfied with the amount I was able to get down my throat so I
received three more strokes to the backs of my thighs. The pain of the whip was
dreadful. I had been given five strokes and it felt as if my thighs were on
fire. As each stroke fell I screamed and begged for them to stop the whipping, I
was doing what they wanted.

My answer came from the wardress who asked me what I would do when they tied me
and used more severe whips all over my body. I had no time to digest her remark.
The Dr. now ordered me to get this one up my ass. As I squatted over the
formidable object I glanced between my legs and knew this would not fit. One
look at Goldie and her whip made me start to lower myself onto it. I felt
immediate pain as I was stretched by its width. As much as I pushed I was only
able to get about three inches in before it felt as if I was being ripped
internally.

The pain was intense. But it was nothing in comparison to the whip crashing down
on the front of my thighs just above the stockings. The shock of the blow made
me sink down further onto the dildo. The pain in my bowels was excruciating. In
response I tried to stand but was stopped be strong hands on my shoulders. It
was Mr. Gund. He was standing behind me and instead of letting me get up he
pushed me down onto the massive dildo. I remember screaming in agony as it tore
up into me. Then everything went black. I was pulled from my state of
unconsciousness by the Dr. She knelt by my side as I lay sprawled on the floor.
The scent of the Amyl Nitrate still lingering in my nostrils. Through a fog I
watched her walk away to join the others. I was left on the floor to regain my
senses and try to determine how badly injured I was. The pain in my ass was
still very severe so slowly I touched myself there to see if I was indeed ripped
apart. To my surprise I felt no damage, not even any blood.

It was hard to believe that all the pain I had just endured left no obvious
signs of injury. All of a sudden I was surrounded by the four women. I was then
ordered to my feet. When I did not move as fast as they wanted, one of them
kicked me in the ribs with the point of her high heeled pump. The kick was not
hard enough to cause any injury, it was just enough to make me quickly obey, and
I did.

Without another word I was taken by the arm and lead to a door near the sitting
area by Mrs. Winston. She opened it revealing a lavish bathroom. I was told to
go in and attend to my needs and also fix my hair and make-up. I would find
everything I needed on the vanity. As she was closing the door she said I would
be allowed 15 minutes to myself. This was a very welcome relief. As I looked
around I saw that besides all the necessary cosmetics, a tray with water, coffee
and even my brand of cigarettes had been provided. The first thing I did was
pour a glass of water and take a long drink. It helped clear the smelling salts
from my system. Next I lit a cigarette and took several deep drags. It seemed to
have a calming effect. I then studied myself in the mirror. To my amazement
except for the whip marks on my thighs I saw no signs of the ordeal I had just
undergone. I had not realized until that minute that I needed to urinate. It was
probably from all the coffee I drank in the afternoon. What I wore gave me free
access to the toilet but as I began to sit I felt the pain from the dildos deep
inside. I just prayed that when Gund pushed me down I was not injured
internally. I did not linger for fear of not completing my orders. I went back
to the sink and finding a cloth wiped down my body as much as the lingerie would
allow. I dabbed at the welts on my thighs with cold water. This took some of the
sting out. I even tried to put some of the cold water between my legs. Next I
quickly fixed my hair and face. Not knowing how much time I had left I poured
some coffee and lit another cigarette. As I took a mouthful of the warming
liquid my mind began to ponder what I had seen and heard. Mercifully as I began
to torture myself with thoughts the door opened. Goldie and the Dr. had Laura.
She seemed to be barely conscious. Her arms were draped over their shoulders and
her head hung down. They were almost dragging her into the bathroom. As I looked
up at her, my eyes were drawn to her stomach. They had forced so much liquid
into her that she appeared well along in a pregnancy. The garter belt she wore
was almost hidden beneath the distended flesh. Through her groans I heard her
beg them to release the water. It was at that point that Mrs. Winston appeared
at the door and called me out. She said it was time for me to perform again. She
added that I should pay close attention to Lauras condition. As I exited the
room Mrs. Winston reminded me that this is what happens to slaves who do not use
their mouths as ordered. As we walked back to the sitting area I was told that
it was time for me to get my first taste of female flesh. I felt myself cringe.
I had known this time would come, and I dreaded it. The idea of having sex with
a female was absolutely revolting to me. The worst part of it was that I did not
even know what to do. Mr. Winston and Mr. Gund were still seated in the same
chairs they were for my show with the dildos. The wardress was on a small couch
and that is were I was lead. We stopped directly in front of her and I was sure
she would be my first. As the anxiety started to take hold of me it was Mrs.
Winston who ordered me to start undressing her.

She quickly told the others that since she was the one to engineer my current
situation, she should be the first to benefit. I heard what she had told me but
did not know how to proceed. I just stood there feeling waves of humiliation and
fright sweep over me. Mrs. Winston again ordered me to start but all I could do
was beg them not to make me do this. I offered to service the men instead saying
that they could have me in any way they wanted. Mrs. Winston answered by saying
that would come, but now it was time for me to learn how to please a woman. I
stood motionless staring down at the floor.

All of a sudden Mrs. Winston slapped me hard across the face. She began yelling
that if I did not do as she said they would begin with the tortures. I had no
choice. I would do whatever possible to forestall the inevitable pain. I reached
for the buttons of her blouse. With trembling fingers I slowly worked my way
down until the blouse hung open. She turned suddenly and ordered me to take it
off and put it neatly on the couch. I was then directed to remove the red
leather skirt she wore. I undid the zipper and slid it down past her hips. As
she stepped out of it I picked it up and put it with the blouse. Again she
turned and for the first time I looked directly at her.

She stood before me wearing a scant red lace bra with a matching garter belt,
black stockings and red shoes. She wore no panties exposing her clean shaven
pussy. Although I had seen her almost totally nude in the Drs. office this time
was much worse. I knew what was expected of me, and why she was exposed. She
took a semi reclining position on the couch next to the wardress. She then told
me to get on my knees and start kissing her tits. She added I better do it well
if I did not want to end up like Laura. I knew any pleading or resistance at
this point was futile. And I definitely did not want the treatment Laura had. I
tried to resign myself to the fact that I knew this time would come. After all,
this was one of the reasons I was here.

With a sigh of defeat I gently pulled her bra out of the way, exposing her
breasts. I tried not to look into her eyes as I raised my mouth to comply. As I
sucked the nipple into my mouth I felt repulsed and confused.

I tried to remember how John had sucked on my nipples. It seemed so long ago.
Before I had been caught and reduced to some sort of slave for these peoples
perverted lusts. I loved sex with John. Sometimes gentle other times rough, even
kinky by some standards. Would it or could it ever be again. We had been
fighting the past few weeks. He said I was acting strangely. He demanded to know
what was wrong. With my preoccupation to the problem I was having I was
neglecting and even mistreating him. If only I could tell him what was wrong. My
attention was brought back to what I was being forced to do. Mrs. Winston
grabbed a handful of my hair and as she began to pull said I better show some
effort. I brought my hands up to her chest and tried to gently rub and caress.
Not knowing what else to do I tried licking and sucking the nipples. All the
while she just pulled at my hair and told me how poorly I was doing. Afraid to
anger her I put more effort into it. The harder I tried the worse it got. She
was getting angrier. The tears began to well in my eyes. Finally I picked my
head up and began to beg, saying I was trying my best but couldn't do it.

She went into a rage. Guiding my head by the hair she forced my face down to her
pussy. She began to scream at me to start eating her or else. She then adjusted
her position and buried my face in her cunt. I felt her thighs engulf my head as
she continued pulling my hair. She ground my face into her slit. The smell of
her, even though not repulsive, triggered something deep within. I fought to try
and free myself from her grip. Whatever the consequences this was too perverse
for me. The more I struggled the harder she held me. I was being smothered.
Fighting for breath I finally pushed myself free falling back onto the floor. As
I lay there trying to catch my breath she sprang from the couch. She went into
an absolute frenzy shouting threats and obscenities down at me. I was called a
worthless cunt, a rotten bitch, a total piece of shit etc. I was also promised
unimaginable punishment for disobeying and embarrassing her. To punctuate each
verbal assault I received a kick to whatever part of my body was exposed to her.
I just tried to protect myself and begged for forgiveness. I even tried to tell
her that I would try again. All my pleading was in vain. She continued to yell
and kick.

Finally it was the wardress who came to my aid. She stood up and pulled Mrs.
Winston away from me telling her to calm down. I was finally able to get on my
feet and run behind a chair. As a sense of calm was restored I heard the two men
laughing as they told the women that they knew I would not do it. They were also
bragging over the fact that they had won the bet. The mention of which only made
Mrs. Winston's face burn in anger.

Again I begged them to forgive me and try to understand that I had never even
touched a woman before. My reply came from Mrs. Winston. She told me how because
of my disobedience she lost a bet with the men. It was because of me that she
would have to allow them both to fuck her in the ass. It was because of me that
she was now, and would later be embarrassed. As she spoke her anger toward me
grew. She told me how because of what I had done or rather refused to do, I
would be severely punished. She promised that I would be tortured until I begged
to eat her cunt, eat a hundred cunts. Her words had me literally shaking in my
shoes. I knew she meant every word. It was then that the Dr. and Goldie returned
from attending to Laura. They were told what had happened and they all began to
discuss what should be done. I just stood frozen, hearing about beatings,
electrical, needles, douches, the rack, the chair, enemas even the tank.
Thankfully it was the Dr. who explained how this was my first time and what
could they really expect. She agreed I had to be disciplined for what I had
done. But pointed out that they had to follow the plan and not go to fast with
me. After they all took a moment to think they said she was indeed correct. Next
they asked her how she suggested they proceed. I could not hear what was said
but they all appeared satisfied. The Dr. came over to me and almost kindly told
me to follow her. After watching and hearing the others I felt my chances were
best with her so I obeyed. She and the Wardress lead me towards the medical area
with the others following close behind. As I walked I felt my stomach tighten. I
knew I was about to be punished. I silently cursed myself for not trying to obey
Mrs. Winston. As repulsed as I was by the thought of having sex with another
woman, it was preferable to pain.

During the past several weeks I anticipated the act and thought I would be able
to carry it out. It also occurred to me that they figured I would not do as
ordered and used it as an excuse to cause me to suffer. Whatever the reason it
was to late to think about now. I was next to the gynecological table with
everyone except Laura surrounding me. The wardress spoke first. She told me how
at the prison they often had the same problem with new girls. When they were
called upon to service one of the staff, they would usually refuse. The normal
procedure was to strap them to a table and whip their tits and cunts with a cane
until they bleed and would beg to eat anyone. The problem with that being the
cane does a lot of damage and the girl usually ends up in the infirmary. Since
they do not want me totally incapacitated, the Dr. has suggested an alternative.
"I will allow her to explain it to you" the Wardress concluded. This was a
deviation from the norm. Usually they would just do as they wished, now it
seemed as if they were going to tell me about it first. The Dr. began by saying
that I would be secured to the table. My legs would be spread and my chest
elevated. I would then be injected with Bees Venom in my breasts and vaginal
lips. I gasped and began to protest but was told to shut up or it would be
worse. After all, I had done this all to myself. Despite my whimpering she
continued. I was told how the venom would cause instant swelling and burning,
but have no lasting effects. I would then have the injected areas beaten with
rubber hoses. After I received 20 strokes to my breasts and 10 between my legs I
would again be given the opportunity to please Mrs. Winston. If I then refused
or did not perform satisfactorily I would receive a second beating. I tried to
say that I would try again on my own and to please not hurt me. That statement
brought laughter from everyone. In unison they said they had barely begun to
hurt me. Angrily the Dr. told me not to interrupt her as my immediate fate was
sealed. Without any further dialogue I was ordered to remove my bra and get onto
the table. Shaking in fear I reached behind my back to undo the clasp. Between
my nerves and the tightness of the garment I could not unfasten the hooks. I
heard Mrs. Winston tell Goldie to help me. She said she would be right there,
she was getting the hoses.

Within a few seconds she approached and laid two pieces of what looked like
ordinary garden hose on the table next to me. As she stepped behind me to unhook
the bra I had a second to study the instruments they were going to beat me with.
One piece was about a foot long, the other about eighteen inches long. They were
both black rubber with the shorter of the two being thicker.

The bra came loose and was ripped from my chest leaving me standing topless for
the first time today. Instinctively I put my arms up to cover myself and
received a slap across the face from Mrs. Winston. She told me to put my hands
down and get on the table. In fear of angering them further I jumped up.

The four women quickly began strapping me down. My legs were put in the stirrups
and spread obscenely wide. A section of the table below my shoulder blades was
raised causing my chest to elevate. Next my arms were pulled over my head and
fastened. A wide strap was put across my waist and tightened. This was basically
the same position I remembered so well from the Drs. office. I was again
completely helpless and vulnerable. Understandably I began to sob and beg them
not to do this to me. I watched the Dr. as she went to a cabinet and began
filling some syringes. The first two were about the same size as had been used
on me before. When I saw her pick up the third one my sobs turned to screams.
That needle was at least three inches long. Despite the screams and protests the
Dr. filled two of the long ones. She brought the four syringes to the table and
placed them next to me. This time it was the Dr. who slapped me and told me to
shut up. All of a sudden her attitude had changed. She turned into the sadist I
remembered from our last encounter. I began to pull at the straps to try and
break free. Beside feeling the waves of panic sweep over me I also felt a deep
sense of embarrassment. Not only did I have four women staring at me. There were
also two men. I felt like some kind of exhibit. Suddenly both men and the
wardress began touching and probing. This was the first time the three of them
saw me this open and exposed. While the men concentrated on the area between my
legs the wardress was busy with my breasts. After she squeezed and pulled, she
turned to the others and said something. The words that stood out were, "perfect
for tit torture". There was that phrase again. The Dr. then came forward with a
jar of alcohol. Using cotton swabs she wiped around my open pussy. In so doing
she made sure to get some of the liquid inside me. She knew what the effect
would be. I screamed as I felt a terrible burning sensation. She just smiled
down at me. She then looked up at Mrs. Winston and grabbing a handful of my
pubic hair said "this will have to be removed in the near future, send her to
Dorothea". She then moved up to my chest. In my state of panic, that comment,
nor the fact that she only wiped around my nipples registered. The alcohol felt
cold on my sweating breasts. It also made me cry and beg louder realizing the
needles were next. It had been two weeks since I was at Dr. Kim's and had the
injections in my breasts but the memory was very vivid. There was no way to
prepare for the pain I knew would be forth coming. To make matters worse The Dr.
decided to toy with me. She picked up one of the longer needles and showed it to
me. She told me how she would stick it straight into my nipple. I remember
yelling "please god no" over and over. She continued the verbal torment. I was
told how the entire 3 inches would plunge into me, almost touching the breast
bone. Then how the venom would be injected. It would take only seconds before I
felt as if I was stung by a swarm of bees. The more she spoke the more intense
my struggles became.

The muscles in my arms and legs were cramping from the strain of trying to pull
free. My only freedom was the ability to scream, and beg them not to do this.
Being as petrified of the needles as I was, I even offered to willingly submit
to some other form of punishment. My suggestion seemed to amuse them. I was
asked what I had in mind. All I could think of was to let Goldie use the strap
or whip on me again. This brought hardy laughter from everyone. Finally someone
said they planned to do that later anyway. Before I had a chance to say another
word the Wardress grabbed my right breast in both hands and held it in a vise
like grip. She looked down at me and said not to move or the needle could break
inside me. I then felt the tip of the needle pricking the now taut nipple. Cries
of protest caught in my throat as the Dr. slowly pushed the full three inches
into me. I felt the sharp point cutting through the delicate flesh. To make it
even more painful the Dr. kept pulling it out and then pushing it in again. The
agony was so intense I just smashed my teeth together and pounded my head on the
table. I was consumed by the pain. My senses were even taken from me. It was if
I could not see or hear or make a sound. Just as the ability to scream and
struggle returned I fell into a pitch black abyss. For the second time tonight
they had to revive me. When I regained consciousness, I recall still screaming
in pain. The first thing I focused on was the face of the Dr. She just looked at
me and said to calm down, the worst was over. An oxygen mask was placed over my
face and I was told to breathe deeply. As my senses returned I felt the terrible
pain in my breast. Anything that had been done to me so far paled in comparison
to the pain I had just experienced. Before I could say anything the Dr. said the
next injection would not be nearly as bad. She then sarcastically said she was
sorry, but she slipped and touched my breastbone by accident. Through the haze
of pain I heard the others laughing. The wardress commented about how often that
happens. With a smile on her face the Dr. picked up the second syringe. This
time the Wardress grabbed the left breast, pulling it up by the nipple. I began
screaming as I watched the needle which was positioned next to the nipple,
descend into me. As promised, this one was not as severe as the first if that is
possible. The Dr. just pushed the needle into me and injected the venom. This
time not being granted the luxury of unconsciousness, I felt the fiery liquid
spread through me. No longer able to scream I just groaned as I watched myself
swell. It took only seconds for this tit to match the first. They were both much
larger and stood erect on my chest. I could also feel the burning sensation
slowly increasing. I was so engrossed by the spectacle and changing feelings in
my breasts that I was unaware of the Dr. moving between my legs. It was not
until I felt the prick of the needle that I realized she was injecting one side
of my pussy. It was quick and it hurt but nowhere as badly as my chest. The
fourth injection caused me to whine through clenched teeth. Although this was
all very new to me I was sure these injections could have been made much worse.
Time would prove me correct. As if we were back at the office waiting for the
coffee to brew, Mrs. Winston said it would be a minute until they started
hitting me. They wanted to wait for the venom to take its full effect. Both
areas were already burning and swollen. It also felt as if every nerve in my
body was concentrated in the two areas. Under normal circumstances these are the
two most sensitive parts of a womans body. I could not imagine being beaten
there, even without the injections. As Mrs. Winston picked up the longer of the
hoses and moved next to me I again started to beg. My answer was the hose
slapping the underside of both breasts.

Although formidable, it was not as bad as I had imagined. I dug my nails into
the palms of my hands and let out a loud groan. But this was only the first of
twenty. I quickly realized that she could have hit me much harder. I endured the
first five strokes in the same way. I even got the impression she was toying
with me. When she went to the other side of the table and started on the upper
curves my groans turned to cries of pain. I took five of these before she laid
the hose down. Then they all took the opportunity to touch and squeeze the
beaten area. By this time I was openly crying, tears running freely. My breasts
were throbbing and burnt as if they were over an open fire. I was also becoming
aware of a terrible itching. They continued to paw at my now very painful
breasts. Comments were made as to the size and appearance. As I looked down I
saw a maze of blue veins and was startled by how much they had grown. To my
horror they were discussing what types of injections and other tortures could be
done in the future. Suddenly I felt someone touching my pussy. I was able to
move my head enough to see Mr. Winston between my obscenely spread thighs. His
touch made me realize how swollen and sensitive the area was. All of a sudden I
was aware of something being forced inside of me. It must have been a large
object, because it was painful. Mr. Gund joined him in my humiliation. They
touched, probed and looked, constantly talking amongst themselves. I would find
out later about what. My attention was brought back to the head of the table.
The wardress was standing next to me unbuttoning her suit jacket. She took it
off and handed it to Goldie. She wore a black push-up bra that brought her more
than ample breasts into prominence. As she picked up one of the hoses, I
realized what was about to happen. I had seen her in the video remove her jacket
before she started beating her victim.

Her first blow crashed down on my right nipple. My scream was interrupted by the
second stoke. What Mrs. Winston had done was absolutely nothing compared to the
beating I was getting from the wardress. This was pure agony. Beside screaming
and ripping at the straps, I was yelling that she would cause permanent damage.
I was afraid that the skin would burst from the power of the blows. The hose
struck both breasts at random. She concentrated on the nipple area. I lost count
of how many times I was hit. I'm sure it was more than ten. As I began to feel a
black cloud creep over me the beating stopped. I was in terrible pain but
screaming was almost impossible. My chest was heaving from the effort of trying
to breath. When I regained some composure the first thing I did was lift my head
to examine my battered breasts. All I could do was begin screaming again. The
purpose of the hoses became apparent. Although the skin was not broken both
breasts were a mass of bruised flesh. They were almost purple and even more
swollen than before. As soon as I was able to speak I began to beg them not to
hit me anymore. Crying hysterically I begged to be given another chance to
service Mrs. Winston. I would do anything not to feel the hoses on my tender and
swollen pussy. If what had been done to my chest was any guide I knew having my
pussy beaten would be pure hell. My answer was that I had to be punished for
what I had already done. And I was warned that if I did not perform
satisfactorily, the process would be repeated until I got it right. It was Mr.
Winston who picked up one of the hoses and waved it over my face. He began
taunting me by saying how he was going to beat me raw and then fuck me. As he
approached the end of the table I realized that I was about to be beaten my a
man for the first time. I logically assumed that a man had more strength than a
woman and feared that the beating would be more severe. I was indeed correct.
The hose hit my spread lips with tremendous force. I let out a blood curdling
scream as I writhed in agony. With all my strength I tried to tear free of my
bonds. As the blows kept reigning down on my exposed pussy I tried to bang my
head onto the table in an attempt to knock myself out. It felt as if I was being
hit with a baseball bat rather than a rubber hose. This was just pure brutality.
Finally it was over. As I lay there, my body convulsing from the pain I tried to
catch my breath and again regain my senses. The group was assembled all around
me. They not only studied the areas of my body which had been battered but they
also paid close attention to my reactions. They derived joy from my pain. As I
looked at them, all I could see was the excitement and pleasure on their faces.
It was apparent to me that they all got turned on by seeing and hearing me
suffer. Judging from their comments and expressions, the next year would be a
living hell. Before I was able to say a word, Mrs. Winston came right up to my
face. With a sarcastic grin, she asked if I was ready to eat her or did I want
another taste of the hoses. Choking through my sobs I begged her to please let
me try again. I promised to do my best, but pleaded with her not to hit me
anymore.

I was left bound to the table. Without saying a word she just climbed up and
squatted over my face. This time with no thought or hesitation I stuck out my
tongue and raised my head. As my mouth came in contact with her gaping pussy I
felt her lower herself onto my face. Fear of what would happen quickly pushed
the revulsion from my mind. I started to move my tongue around trying to
remember how I had been eaten by some of my lovers. I felt her bucking into my
face as if she were riding a horse. Then I heard her yelling at me to get my
tongue inside her and put some effort into it. Knowing better than to displease
her again I did as I was told. Whatever I was doing seemed to be satisfying her
because she settled into some sort of rhythm. When she put her weight on me,
both my mouth and nose were covered, causing me to gasp for breath. She must
have enjoyed that because she repeated it several times. I then felt her shift
her position as she told me to lick her clit. I must not have done it to her
satisfaction. My penalty was someone grabbing both my breasts and squeezing.
Through the flash of pain I instantly obeyed, not wanting to further anger her.
I licked and sucked at her clit while still using my tongue on her lips and
inside her. Her excitement was evident. I felt it dripping down my chin. Finally
after what seemed an eternity it felt as if she was having an orgasm. She again
grabbed my hair and tried to pull my whole head deeper into her. While so doing
she kept telling me to do it more, calling me a bitch, cunt, slave. After a few
violent spasms, she collapsed on top of me. It took a few minutes before she
climbed off the table. That gave me a little time to catch my breath and think
of what I had just done. I was totally disgusted with myself, but knew it was
better than one of their tortures. I also had the feeling I would be doing a lot
more of it. I just did not know how soon. The wardress came over to Mrs. Winston
and jokingly said I must have done a good job. Her reply was that I had a lot to
learn but showed enthusiasm. Also fear of another beating made up for my lack of
experience. To my horror the Wardress said she would judge for herself. With
that she began removing her skirt. Beneath it she wore only a wide black garter
belt and stockings. Seeing her in only underwear I realized how big and well
built she actually was. As she started to climb into the same position as Mrs.
Winston, I was faced with a new horror. Unlike Mrs. Winston who's pussy had been
clean shaven, the wardress had a thick mound of dark curly hair. Before I was
able to react, she lowered herself, placing it over my mouth. I felt strong
thighs press either side of my head and as had been the case earlier, she
grabbed a handful of my hair. As I began to turn my face away and protest I felt
as if my hair was being ripped out by the roots. To further make the point
someone hit me across both breasts with something.

The point was again made. If I did not want anymore pain I had better obey. For
only the second time in my life I was servicing another woman. It was difficult
for me to get through the mass of course hair but finally my tongue was able to
snake up inside her. The wardress was not as gentle or patient as Mrs. Winston.
In a very short time she was grinding into my face with all her weight. She also
placed herself over both my nose and mouth causing me to choke. She must have
done it purposely, because when I opened my mouth wider in an attempt to breath
she pushed down harder and told me to put my tongue deeper. Finally I must have
been doing what she wanted because she was relaxing her grip on my hair. She
then began to tell me what to do. I heard phrases like eat me out, suck my cunt,
put your tongue deeper and lick my clit. I followed her direction as best I
could. After what seemed an eternity I felt her body stiffen as her juices
flowed into my mouth. I started to gag and thought I would vomit. Fear of the
consequences made me fight the urge. Although totally discussed I continued
doing what she wanted. Finally her orgasm came to an end. Slowly she too climbed
off the table. Still bound I could do nothing but lay there and cry. After a few
minutes of watching everyone stare at me and listening to their comments I
begged to be released. I told them I needed some water and wanted to wash my
face. To my surprise the Dr. unfastened my hands and helped me into a sitting
position. Goldie then handed me a glass of water and a wet towel. Quickly I
tried to wipe away the two women. As I began to drink the water the Dr. spoke.
She said I could not be released because she did not have her turn yet. In a fit
of rage I screamed, "no more" and threw the empty glass across the room. In my
present position that was not a smart move. My legs were still strapped into the
stirrups, leaving my pussy wide open and vulnerable. The Dr. picked up one of
the hoses and told me my temper tantrum had earned me five strokes. As the hose
hit my already swollen lips the men grabbed me and held me in place. The pain
was worse than what I had felt only a short time ago. I screamed and struggled
violently, forcing Mr. Winston to lay over my brutalized breasts. That only
caused me more suffering. The five strokes left me beaten not only physically
but also mentally. When the men released me I just laid there and cried. I also
begged them not to do anymore to me, I had enough. Between sobs I tried to tell
them that this was only the first party and I could not take anymore. My answer
was to have my wrists pulled over my head and refastened. As I watched the Dr.
begin to remove her clothes, Mrs. Winston came up next to me. In her sarcastic
tone she told me that it was only 1 AM and they did not plan to end the party
until around 7 or 8. Furthermore there were still several things they had
planned. And lastly they would determine when I had enough.

The Dr. had stripped down to a black strapless longline bra with garters. She
was very small compared to the other women and not very well endowed. Although I
had seen her almost nude during my visit to her office I was now seeing her in a
new light. Knowing what was about to happen I looked directly at her exposed
pussy. Thankfully she was also clean shaven. As she began to mount the table I
became confused. Unlike Mrs. Winston and the Wardress she squatted over me
facing my legs. To my horror I was looking directly at her ass. Sickened by the
prospect I just closed my eyes and waited. She lowered herself grinding her
pussy onto my now tender lips. As she adjusted her position she told me to start
eating her. Like the two before her she also told me how she wanted me to do it.
Half heartedly I began. In an attempt to satisfy the oriental sadist I did what
I had just done to the two women before her. Unfortunately, she did not find my
performance to her liking. To show me the error of my ways she reached down and
squeezed my already tortured breasts. Through my muffled screams I heard her
telling me how poorly I was doing. She also said that if I did improve quickly
my tits would suffer for it. In an effort to save my pitifully abused chest I
ate her to the best of my limited ability. Unfortunately, she was not pleased by
what I was doing and I received several more slaps and pinches. The reason for
her position was now apparent. While I had the repulsive task of pleasing her
she could indulge herself in her favorite pastime, torturing another woman. Just
as the Dr. began to settle into a kind of slow grinding motion on my face, I
felt something touch my pussy. It felt as if someone was spreading a cool liquid
on the open and swollen lips. Before I could analyze what was being done a
searing pain tore into me. Something was being forced into my beaten and swollen
pussy. My scream was muffled by the Drs. pussy grinding into my open mouth.
Trying to move my head only brought more pain to my breasts. After the initial
surge of pain between my legs I realized what was happening. I was being raped.
Strong hands were pulling on my spread thighs to gain deeper penetration. That
is when I heard Mr. Winston say how tight I was and how good it felt.

Being tortured and forced to service the women apparently was not enough for the
group. Now I was being fucked by one of the men. Having both of my nipples
viciously twisted brought my attention back to the Dr. Between the surges of
pain in my pussy I heard her telling me not to stop eating her. To emphasize the
order she grasped both breasts and twisted them until I was sure they would
burst. Despite the pain between my legs I put all my effort into satisfying the
woman sitting on my face. After a few minutes of doing what I had learned with
the other women I felt the Drs. body stiffen and finally reach orgasm. With
nothing to distract me I became painfully aware of the brutal fucking I was
getting. The injections I had been given made it feel like a horse was inside
me. As the Dr. climbed off me I could see Mr. Winston for the first time. My
groans and tear filled eyes seemed to renew his energy. He started pounding into
my swollen pussy lips. Crying openly I endured this punishment until he came.
Before he even pulled out of me his wife went to his side and sarcastically said
that she knew how long he wanted to do that. She also said that he would have
many more opportunities to use and abuse me.ÿ


A Year of Slavery # 2-3

" The First Party "

As he withdrew from me and walked away, Mr. Gund came into view. As he
approached my wide spread legs I saw him stroking the largest erection I had
ever seen. My eyes riveted themselves to the monster in his hand. It appeared to
be almost twice the size of Johns, or the many other men I had been with.
Knowing what was about to happen I started begging him not to put that in me.
Even without the venom in my pussy I would fear a cock of this size. In my
present condition I was afraid of being ripped and badly hurt. Except for
pulling at the straps that held me I could do nothing to escape the inevitable
rape. What Mr. Gund started to do could not be called rape, it was just more
torture. By spreading the lips of my pussy with his rough fingers, he was able
to position himself. Then he lunged forward.

The first thrust caused excruciating pain and almost made me pass out again. I
was screaming wildly as he prepared to push further into my ravaged pussy. The
second thrust pushed him so deep I felt him crash into my uterus. This time, I
did pass out. With the now familiar Amyl Nitrate capsule waving under my nose, I
was jarred back to consciousness. It was probably only a short time that I was
out, because when I came too Mr. Gund was still fucking me. Not only did my
pussy hurt, but I also felt waves of pain internally. My cries for him to stop
went unheeded, he continued with the assault. The group had assembled around us
and was edging him on. Some of their comments were also directed at me.

Someone said I better get used to him because I will have him in every opening
of my body. The Dr. told me to think about being bent over a table and having
him up my ass. The more I heard the more I begged to be let go. That only
brought more comments and a lot of laughter. Finally he also came and the brutal
rape ended. Bound and exhausted I just laid there hoping that it was over. So
far this evening I had been shown what could and would be used on me. Made to
humiliate myself with the dildos. Felt Goldies whip. Had injections in the most
sensitive parts of my body. Was forced to perform oral sex on three women and
was raped by two men.

I had enough. Crying like a small beaten child I begged them to let me go home.
In a desperate attempt to gain my freedom I even promised to come back in a
week. I tried to tell them that I would be more cooperative and enthusiastic
next time. For a moment I thought my pleas were being answered. The Dr. came
over to me with a stethoscope and placed it on my chest. After a few moments she
told the others that my heart rate was slightly elevated, but not a problem. She
then inspected my breasts and vaginal area. The Dr. announced there were minor
lacerations to the breasts. Also the vaginal opening had been torn and badly
bruised. Mrs. Winston inquired as to the severity and was told that an
antiseptic and some antibiotic ointment would be all that was needed. The next
question asked of the Dr. was whether or not I could continue. Her answer was
totally devastating and made me start to scream and again rip at my bonds. She
said I was still in good shape and could still take more. Through my screams I
heard the Dr. suggest that she first clean me up and treat my wounds. At that
point it was the wardress who said to wait. In her opinion it was only fair that
Goldie have her turn with me. I fell instantly silent. The thought was more than
I could bear. To my horror the rest of the group quickly agreed. Goldie had
removed her dress earlier when she was whipping me. She was still wearing the
long white heavy bra and massive girdle. I watched as she pulled the bra cups to
the sides revealing her huge breasts. She then hurriedly undid the garters and
pulled the girdle toward her waist. The sight was appalling. She had exposed her
jet black nipples and mass of pubic hair. As she approached the table I started
saying that I could not do this. I stopped screaming and in an almost calm voice
told everyone that I would not. I said that if she put any part of her body near
my mouth I would bite it off. Amused the wardress asked me why I felt that way.
I said it was bad enough having to eat them but I would not do it to a black
woman. First I tried begging. Then when I felt I was getting no place I made the
mistake of saying that no matter what they did I would not eat her. Goldie went
into a rage and said that she would beat me until I agreed. The wardress
suggested I be given another dose of the hoses. Mrs. Winston said she would get
me to cooperate with the cattle prod. Even the men were angry and shouting
suggestions. Finally the Dr. told them all to be patient. She said that some
caution had to be taken. She reminded them about proceeding slowly in the
beginning. As they all began to quiet down she told them that she would do
something that would make me beg to obey them. But, she added would be less
physically damaging. As they had done before, they fell silent and listened to
her. Someone asked what she had in mind. She appeared to ponder the question and
then replied. She said she would use a torture that she uses on some of the high
priced whores that are brought to her by their pimps. The procedure leaves no
marks, is quick, causes terrible pain and has no lasting effects. In that way as
soon as the whore agrees to do as she is told, she can go right back to work.
Through this dialogue I just struggled and begged them not to hurt me anymore.
As the Dr. headed towards the cabinets, Mrs. Winston looked down at me and said
I could stop the punishment. All I had to do was immediately agree to eat
Goldie's cunt. For disobeying, I would have to also ask to have my tits whipped
with the hoses. If I did this she would stop the Dr. Without even thinking about
it I told her she was a perverted bitch and to go to hell. I would never eat the
black maid. With a smile, she said "I was hoping you would say that". As I
turned my head I saw the Dr. coming toward me carrying a length of thin hose and
a tube of K-Y. Nervously I demanded to know what she was going to do. Her reply
was to wave the hose at me and tell me,"this is a colon tube and it is going up
your ass". Without saying another word she took the now familiar position
between my widespread legs. It took only a second for me to feel the lubricant
being pushed into my rectum. I quickly felt the cool jell going inside me. Even
this small intrusion was painful due to the swelling of the entire area. She
then uncoiled the hose onto my stomach. I was able to see that it was about 5
feet long but thankfully only about 1/2 inch in diameter.

Holding one end in her hand she bent beneath my line of sight. Immediately I
felt the hose being pushed into me. Between sobs I alternately begged her to
stop and asked what she was doing. She neither stopped nor answered me. I could
feel the tube going deeply into me. I also watched its length disappear from my
stomach.

By this time everyone had assembled around me and was commenting on what the Dr.
was going to do. I kept hearing them say enema, only the wardress shook her head
negatively and smiled. The tube continued into me. It was not what I would call
painful but it was a strange sensation. I could feel the internal movement just
below my naval. As I strained my head to look at my stomach I saw that the
entire length was gone. The Dr. reappeared, walked to the side of the table,
looked directly into my eyes and stated that the tube was well placed at the top
of my large intestine. Frightened and confused by the fact that I felt no pain I
again begged them to stop. It was Mrs. Winston who bent over me and told me that
what I was about to experience was unnecessary. Had I obeyed and let the maid
have her turn, I would be off the table by now. But I had to learn, and would
now be punished until I begged Goldie to let me satisfy her. My eyes went toward
the massive black woman as I bravely said never. I remember Mr. Gund looking at
me and in his sarcastic self assured way tell me "never say never". Suddenly the
Dr. laid a small oxygen tank on the table next to me. Silently I bit my lip and
dug my nails into my palms. Whatever they were planning was going to be
terrible. They were already preparing to revive me, I thought. Next I watched as
the Dr. tightened a strap across my stomach and another across my forehead.
Having my head fastened robbed me of the small luxury of seeing what was
happening. I felt movement between my legs and then felt the cold steel of the
oxygen tank next to my ribcage. The Dr. then entered my line of sight, looked
down at me and simply said that I knew what to say if I wanted her to stop.
Bathed in sweat and shaking in fear I just stared up at her pleading with my
eyes. First I heard a strange hissing sound and then it felt like someone had
driven a knife into my stomach. A scream of pure agony echoed through the room.
I was sure I had been stabbed. Oddly the flash of pain ceased as quickly as it
had come. It was replaced by what would best be described as severe cramps.
Before I was even able to speak the Dr. was asking me if I was ready to obey.
Still trying to understand what had just happened I again heard the hiss. The
sensation was the same. It felt as if my stomach was being ripped apart. The way
I was strapped to the table allowed me almost no movement. All I was able to do
was try and pull free causing my muscles to cramp. I imagined they were putting
some type of long needle into my stomach and the cramping was the result of my
struggles.

This time I was able to speak first. In a very unsteady voice I asked what they
were doing to me. The Dr. began to explain that this was a modern version of an
old oriental torture she had learned in Viet Nam.

They used it on prisoners they wished to interrogate but did not want visibly
bruised. All it was, was air being forced into the large intestine. When the
Viet Cong did it they would insert a hose attached to a tire pump. Now this
group used the oxygen tank.

Proudly she said how much better this method was because of the increased
pressure. As if giving a lecture she told of the great success she achieved with
the treatment. She must have thought I had not heard enough because she added
that the same treatment could also be used on a womans uterus and bladder.
Although I heard the hissing sound of the oxygen, there was no way to prepare
for the agony that followed. Given some seconds to recover I was again asked if
I was ready to obey. Foolishly hoping for some kind of reprieve I remained
silent.

The next torrent of air was much longer than the rest. The pain was so intense I
could not even get the small relief screaming allows. This process was repeated
many more times. It is still difficult for me to understand how air could cause
such pain. As a cloud of darkness was about to descend over me I remember
yelling for them to stop, I would obey. A cool cloth was placed on my face and I
was given time to recover. Mrs. Winston then asked me what I was prepared to do.
She said I should be explicit. I recall thinking that not only did they want to
see me suffer, they also wanted to hear me humiliate myself. In a small shaking
voice I said I would do Goldie. That was not enough for them. I was told that I
would have to be more convincing and graphic.

I said please let me satisfy her. They asked how I would satisfy her. Not
knowing what they wanted to hear caused another dose of the oxygen to crash into
my stomach. Finally I realized what they wanted. In order to save myself another
turn of the valve I would give it to them. To my complete disgust I heard myself
say, "please let me eat goldies cunt". Apparently I was correct. The straps were
removed from my stomach and head. The sight of Goldie mounting the table and
squatting over me almost made me vomit. Not wanting to cause myself anymore
punishment I fought the impulse, opened my mouth and closed my eyes.

The black woman was more interested in vengeance than pleasure. Before I could
even feel the moist flesh of her opening, I had to use my tongue to cut through
the mass of course dry pubic hair. Nauseated I continued until I felt her
smother me with her gaping pussy. When it felt as if I was making some progress
she lifted herself from me. I watched as she changed her position. Now I had one
of her massive nipples over my mouth. She then said start sucking my tits slut.
Afraid of the consequences I did as ordered. Several more times she changed
position. I had either her pussy or tits shoved into my mouth. She continued
giving me directions and verbal abuse. These were punctuated by a slap to my
swollen and tender breasts or a blast of the oxygen. Finally after what seemed
like hours of this, I felt her thighs tighten around my head. All at once I was
trying to breath, swallow her vile secretions and scream because she was tearing
at my breasts. As Goldie got off the table I realized that everyone had gone to
the sitting area except the Dr. Slowly Goldie began releasing the straps as the
Dr. pulled the hose from deep in my intestine. Feeling totally abused and
violated I silently prayed that they were finished with me. Crying openly I was
helped to my feet. Leaning against the table I remember hanging my head as much
from humiliation as from exhaustion.

The thoughts of what I had just been through kept pounding in my head. My entire
body ached from all the physical abuse I had suffered. I just stood there hoping
this nightmare was over at last. Without saying a word the two women each took
an arm and helped me toward what had earlier been referred to as the water room.
At that point I was too weak and disgusted to even protest. Upon entering, the
Dr. asked if I needed to use the toilet. Nervously I replied yes and was lead to
the bowl. Not caring that it was in plain site in a corner of the room, I let
them almost drop me onto it.

Immediately the Dr. sent Goldie to get me coffee and cigarettes. As she handed
me a glass of water she told me to relax and assured me they were almost done. I
gulped at the cool liquid thankful for something to wash the vile taste from my
mouth. In the dazed state I was in the words "almost done" took a few seconds to
register. Before I was able to question the Dr., Goldie returned with a tray.
She placed it on a counter next to me and sarcastically said "help yourself". I
quickly lit a cigarette and poured a cup of coffee. While doing so I heard the
Dr. giving the maid instructions.

She told her to let me rest for awhile. Then to wash me off, douche me and help
me fix myself up a bit. As she was leaving she turned to the maid and said
"remember the men fucked her, give her a douche on the pipe if you want too".
Then she added to call her when that was done because she had to attend to my
injuries. Still not fully aware of what was said I remained on the bowl smoking
and drinking coffee. I must have presented a truly bizarre sight but after what
had happened, I really didn't care. Goldie spent a few minutes adjusting her own
underwear and freshening up. She poured herself some coffee and sat on the
examining table across from me. Not feeling strong enough to stand I remained
seated and kept my eyes toward the floor. The silence of the room was deafening
and I could feel her glare burning into me.

The thoughts of what had just happened and particularly the remarks I had made
in reference to the maid kept going through my mind. Thinking, if I tried to
apologize to her it might help me later I finally spoke. I remember how in a
soft voice I said I was sorry. I told her that I was in terrible pain and was
very frightened. My words only seemed to get her angry all over again. Looking
down at me she just told my to keep my mouth shut. She had heard it all before.
She said I was not the first white bitch to think I was better than she was.

With venom in her voice she told me how she was glad I said what I did. It only
made it easier for her to hurt me. She went on saying that I had only fucked
myself. Now she would make sure that anytime she had the opportunity to make it
worse for me, she would. Before I could say a word in my defense she got up and
said that I had enough rest. To emphasize the order she grabbed a handful of my
hair and stood me on my feet. Still holding my hair she put her face only inches
from mine and said "now strip bitch". All I was left wearing were the shoes,
stockings and waist cincher. Not wishing to further anger her I quickly obeyed.
As soon as I was totally nude she pushed me to a spot near where I had been
sitting. The wrist cuffs I wore were then fastened together and attached to a
chain that hung from the ceiling. I watched as she pushed a button near the door
and my arms were slowly pulled over my head. This continued until my feet no
longer touched the floor.

Immediately I felt the burning sensation in my shoulder muscles. The position
also put a tremendous amount of strain on my abused breasts. Hanging helplessly
I could only watch as Goldie picked up a hand shower and turned some faucets.
The treatment that followed was not a shower, it was just another form of
punishment. The maid took great pleasure in adjusting the water temperature. At
times I was engulfed by an ice cold stream. Other times it felt as if my skin
would be blistered by the hot water. Although not an inch of my body was spared
the torment, she paid special attention to certain spots. My face was one of her
prime targets. More than once I was forced to hold my breath because the water
was being directed into my nose or mouth. Her other favorites were my breasts
and pussy. The pounding liquid hit the already tender areas with the force of
one of the whips. It would cause an agonized scream which would make me open my
mouth offering an ideal target. She continued her game for a long time until
thankfully the water was turned off. As I felt my feet touch the floor I heard
her sarcastically ask me if I enjoyed my shower. Still supported by the chain I
had to endure the further abuse and indignity of having the maid dry me. Again
she turned the simple task into a punishment. As she unfastened the chain from
the wrist cuffs a broad smile appeared on her face. Then she said "now the real
fun begins". She lead me to the opposite corner of the room. Remembering the
instructions the Dr. had given I knew the douche was next. As we stopped in
front of a strange looking apparatus I felt the knots begin to form in the pit
of my stomach. Although I had seen this piece of equipment when Mrs. Winston
gave the tour, it now took on a new prospective. It was about to be used on me.
As goldie helped me onto a platform about four ft. square and a foot off the
floor, she told me to pay attention to what she was doing. She added that over
the next year I would spend many painful hours up here. Looking at the apparatus
only confused me as to how it worked. The front of the platform had a panel
which consisted of valves and gauges. Sticking through the top of the platform I
stood on was a pipe about the height of my knees. I recall wondering how I could
be given a douche. My thoughts were interrupted as Goldie grabbed one of my
ankles and fastened the cuff to a hook near the edge. My legs were spread until
the other ankle was attached to a hook on the opposite side. Next a chain was
attached to my wrist cuffs and my arms were raised toward the ceiling.

I was forced to stand in the position of an inverted "y". The pipe aimed
straight at my spread pussy. For a moment I thought that possibly the water
would shoot up at me. That I soon realized would have been a blessing. As soon
as goldie was satisfied that I was well secured, she stepped off the platform
and went to a cabinet. As I hung there waiting, I wondered what time it could
be. I remembered being told that I would be kept for approximately twelve hours.
So far, with all that had happened it seemed like days. The pain and fatigue
were getting the best of me. Possibly the worst, was the total feeling of
despair and helplessness. After this small taste of what I had to look forward
to, I wondered how I could go on. The thought of any woman being subjected to
this was beyond my comprehension. Just then the contract I was forced to sign
crept into my thoughts. It would be impossible for me to survive a year of this.
I was so immersed in thought that I did not even realize that Goldie had
returned to the platform. She was kneeling in front of me doing something to the
pipe. The position I was in made it difficult to look down but after pulling and
twisting I managed. What I saw made me begin to tare at my bonds and scream with
renewed energy. She was attaching a nozzle. It could best be described as a very
large butt plug with a hole at the top. Suddenly I began to understand what was
about to happen to me. As the maid approached the control panel, I began to
plead with her not to hurt me anymore. I remember telling her that if I had to
be douched, to please do it another way. I even offered to do it to myself. As a
sinister smile came to her face, she just looked up at me and said it was time
to pay for what I had said. As her fingers turned one of the valves, I watched
the pipe move

upward. Bond as I was there was no way to avoid the nozzle as it searched for my
spread pussy. As soon as it touched my swollen and beaten lips I groaned in
discomfort. That was only the beginning. As Goldie increased the lift of the
pipe I began to cry as the hellish nozzle pushed its way up into me. This
continued until most of my weight was concentrated on the object between my
legs. The pain was not caused by deep penetration, but by the stretching and
pressure on the already abused area. Like I had done so many times already I
found myself screaming and begging. That only brought a look of satisfaction to
the maids face. She then squatted in front of me and checked the placement of
the nozzle.

It's purpose was to form a seal using the lips of my pussy. That way it would
also keep the liquid in me. Satisfied, she stood up, looked directly into my
eyes and said she would take a minute to tell me how this apparatus worked. I
was told that hot water would be pumped into me under pressure. Again she
pointed out the shape of the nozzle and explained how it would prevent the water
from escaping. That would cause a tremendous strain on my internal organs. The
volume of water would also cause severe swelling to my lower abdomen. And last
but not least, with sufficient pressure the water would force it's way into my
uterus. To taunt me further she said that if she had enough time she could make
me look like I was six months pregnant.

With an evil smile on her face she said because she had to hurry she would not
be able to do as much as she would like, but reassured me there would be another
time. That said, she returned to the valves, leaving me begging and struggling.
As I watched her turn a faucet I tried to brace myself, anticipating a deluge of
water. Instead I just hung there waiting. Finally I felt the liquid gently begin
to seep into me. At first it actually seemed to have a soothing affect. I should
have known it would not last. Within seconds the pressure began to build and it
was getting hot. Just a few seconds more and it felt as if I was being scalded
internally. Instantly my entire body was covered in sweat. As I tried to scream
at her to stop, I was again gripped by severe cramps. So intense was the pain
that I was unable to catch my breath in order to get the words out. To make this
ordeal even worse was the fact that I was watching my stomach swell until I was
sure permanent damage would be done. Just then I saw the maid again turn the
faucet. The water stopped pouring into me. It took some time but finally I was
able to ingest enough oxygen to regain the ability to move and most of all
scream. Between the pressure and the severe temperature I did indeed scream and
struggle to be free of this hellish device. My contortions only caused me to
become further impaled on the nozzle. That only increased the pain from the
injections. No matter what I did it only caused me greater suffering, and gave
the maid even greater satisfaction. I remember how I tried to calm myself
realizing that the worst was over and I had again survived. It seemed that my
body was also adjusting to the pressure and extreme temperature. The stabbing
pains I had felt earlier were now less severe and further apart, although I was
still in great pain. Wishing to inspect the results of what she had done to me,
Goldie stepped up on the platform. As I begged her to release the contents of my
tortured pussy she just laughed and sarcastically said she would, soon. She then
began to verbally torment me. She again told me to familiarize myself with this
device because I would no doubt be spending many uncomfortable hours on it. To
emphasize her point she directed my attention to the shelves lined with
different types of nozzles. Some she said were for douches and others for severe
enemas. She saw my reaction and with a smile said that what had just been done
was mild in comparison to some of the enemas she would be giving me in the
future. As she continued talking her hands began to roam over my swollen
abdomen. That brought a fresh wave of pain surging into me. Still not satisfied
she began to slap the distended flesh, causing me to again scream in agony.
Finally she stopped hitting me. Again the pain began to diminish and I stopped
screaming. Just as I was about to beg her to please stop, the Dr. came into the
room and stepped onto the platform. She asked Goldie how I was holding up. As
she listened to what the maid was saying she began to examine my stomach.
Thankfully I heard her say that I had enough for now and to get the water out.
With a look of disappointment on her face I watched Goldie quickly return to the
controls. As she turned one of the valves I screamed more from surprise than
from pain. The liquid was being sucked out of me. The relief was instantaneous.
Within seconds even the swelling of my stomach was slowly disappearing. As this
was happening, the Dr. looked at me and said it was done this way in order to
avoid a mess all over the floor. As a smile came to her face she added that the
suction could be increased to a very painful level. As she finished the sentence
she nodded her head at Goldie. Suddenly it felt as if my insides were being
ripped from my body. It was difficult and in itself painful, but there I was,
screaming again. Finally the suction stopped and I felt the huge nozzle descend
from between my legs. Goldie then asked the Dr. if she wanted me released. Her
answer was that my wounds needed some attention and now was a perfect time,
adding it was better that I was secured.

In a matter of fact tone, she turned to me and asked how I enjoyed my douche.
Without waiting for a reply she stated that they would get even better. She also
took the opportunity to remind me that some enemas would be given in the same
way. Her expression told me she was relishing the thought. Without being told,
Goldie brought the Dr. a tray. In a panic I looked down at its contents.
Alcohol, cotton swabs, antiseptic ointment and a small covered container. I
watched as the Dr. saturated some of the swabs with alcohol. She then began
wiping my breasts. She was anything but gentle, using the procedure as an excuse
to further abuse my swollen and beaten chest. There were several areas where the
skin was broken and I cringed when they were touched by the fiery liquid. That
was nothing in comparison to having her use the alcohol on my battered pussy.
Not only did she swab the bruised areas, she made sure to get the liquid well up
inside me. Crying openly I just hung there wondering how much more I could take.
Next she applied the antiseptic and told me I would be fine in a few days. That
said she wiped her hands and I sighed to myself, believing she was done.

My optimism was destroyed in a heart beat. She opened the small container and
picked up a syringe. I recall saying out loud, "oh god no". Her reply was
another sarcastic smile. her only words were that I needed an antibiotic shot to
be on the safe side. Without any warning and with the speed of a cat, the
oriental sadist plunged the syringe into my stomach just below the navel. My
reaction was instantaneous. Every muscle in my body seemed to contract, and my
entire nervous system went ablaze. Thankfully the needle was removed in an
instant, but the effect lingered. It took awhile for me to draw a breath and
again focus on my surroundings. When the ability to speak returned all I could
say was "why, didn't you hurt me enough". After a pause on the Drs. part she
answered by saying, "not nearly, I enjoy hurting women and I take every
opportunity to do so. That was just a sample. It could have been worse". She
continued by telling me that in the months to come I would be given injections
in a dozen places far more sensitive. As she stepped off the platform she turned
to me and said think of how the needle will feel in your armpit or even in your
clit. The thought of her words caused the blood to drain from my head putting me
on the verge of unconsciousness. In a haze I saw the maid approaching with the
now familiar vile of amyl-nitrate. A few breaths were all that were needed to
jar me back to total awareness. It also amplified all the torments I had
endured. I was barely able to stand as the maid released me from my bonds. At
her direction I stumbled off the torture device and fell to my knees on the
floor.

Her intense hatred of me was apparent as she said get up cunt and do as I say.
As I began to pull myself up, the Dr. looked over at me and asked if I would
like another shot to wake me up. The threat made me almost jump to my feet. I
was then told that I had fifteen minutes to get myself dressed and fixed up
before they came for me.

I remember asking in a weak tone if they were through, and could I go home. My
reply was that I had an hour left and the men wanted another piece of me. Goldie
motioned to the tray of coffee and cigarettes that were still there. She said
she would be right back and I should help myself. As I lit a cigarette and
poured a cup of coffee I tried to summon whatever strength I had left. I
mentally repeated to myself, only one more hour. I also thought of the Drs.
parting words, the men wanted another piece. I remember standing there, confused
by all I had been through, trying to understand what she meant. Finally I
assumed it meant they wanted to use me for some sex act. At least I thought they
would not hurt me anymore.

Glancing at the cosmetics made me realize I had been given a command and I knew
better than to disobey. With unsteady hands I began to apply some make-up and
fix my hair. As I stared into the small mirror, it was as if I were looking at
another person. This could not possibly be me. As my mind began one of its many
journeys, Goldie returned and interrupted the thought by placing a small pile of
lingerie in front of me. Quickly glancing at me she said I looked fine and to
put on what I was given. Afraid to anger her in any way I stood and picked up
the first article. It was a well constructed black longline bra with garters.
Slipping the straps over my shoulders brought my inflamed breasts into contact
with the cups. As I feared, that caused immediate discomfort. Before I even had
a chance to comment, I felt the maid pulling the back together so she could hook
it. One by one each hook was attached forcing my breasts into the garments vise
like grip. My protests and pained sobs only encouraged rougher treatment. After
somewhat of a struggle on Goldies part I was firmly encased in the bra. Even if
I had not been given the injections, the cups would have been tight. Now my
breasts spilled over the tops and pushed out of the sides. Besides the renewed
pain in my breasts the garment made breathing difficult. Next I was handed a
pair of black nylons and told to quickly put them on and hook the garters. That
was easier said than done due to the pressure of the bra. As I stood to put on
the shoes I had worn earlier, Goldie checked the cuffs on my wrists and ankles.
Satisfied, she turned to one of the cabinets and took out what appeared to be a
dogs collar and leash.

She handed me the collar and told me to put it on. I remember staring at her and
asking what she meant. In her cold sarcastic tone she said, "around your neck
asshole". After locking it in place as directed I was ordered to get on my hands
and knees. The maid then attached the leash and told me to follow. To emphasize
the command, she pulled on the leash as you would an animal. Totally humiliated
and still in considerable pain I was lead toward the waiting group. They were
all gathered in the sitting area and as I approached a loud roar of laughter
erupted. I could only imagine I was the cause. Getting closer I heard some of
the comments they were making in regard to my present situation. It only made
the deep feelings of humiliation and degradation that much more unbearable. Once
in the center of the space I was told to stay as I was and Goldie dropped the
leash and walked away.

Before my eyes was a very bizarre sight indeed. The men were seated, basically
dressed as they had been. The women however were all lounging on couches. They
were still in the underwear they had stripped down to when I was forced to
service them. The main difference being that Laura had rejoined the party and
was on her knees with her head buried between the wardresses legs. Until my
arrival that seemed to be the main attraction. I watched the wardress, her
expressions revealing a woman totally lost in ecstasy. As I looked over at Mrs.
Winston, it appeared she had recently been satisfied. She had a strange look of
contentment on her face, almost as if she were under the influence of some drug.

Suddenly I was aware of goldie coming toward me dragging a heavy wooden chair.
She placed it next to where I was, still on my hands and knees. I was then
ordered to stand behind the chair, bend over the back, and place my hands at the
edge of the seat. With practiced movements, my ankles were spread and secured to
the legs. My wrists were then fastened to the top of the front legs. This caused
me to be bent at the waist, legs straight and slightly spread. It also served to
thrust my ass up and out. The downward pull of my wrists had my head and breasts
hanging toward the floor. After remaining in this position for several minutes,
the two men approached. They immediately began fondling and probing. Along with
the examination came a dialogue of what they might do to me. It was quickly
established that since they had both fucked me in the conventional manner, they
wanted something else. As Mr. Winston began stroking the curves of my ass and
thighs, he began to tell Mr. Gund his desires. He said how for years he had
watched me strut around the office in my tight skirts and heels. He described
how his eyes would rivet on the cheeks of my ass. As his strokes became more
suggestive he told of the desire to one day have me in this position. Now that I
was at his mercy he would take the opportunity to fulfill his fantasy. Unable to
move and afraid to say a word I just listened and hoped for this night to end.
Mr. Winston then called the Dr. Within seconds she was standing with the two
men. Her presence immediately sent a wave of fear through me knowing that she
was responsible for most of my suffering so far. Without hesitating Mr. Winston
said he wanted to fuck me in the ass.

Sarcastically he added that it be ok if it hurt.

His vulgar words struck me with the impact of a whip. Although I had engaged in
this form of sex many times I now shuddered in fear. I knew that bent over the
chair as I was, and after the beating with the hose, this would not be pleasant,
at least not for me. Before I could give it any more thought the Dr. replied.
She said that was no problem, but in a devious tone suggested the need for some
special preparation.

I watched as she disappeared from my view only to return in a matter of seconds
carrying a tray. I was able to see what was on it and again began to sob. The
tray contained the same gynecological clamps she had used on me in her office.
The other instruments were unfamiliar to me, but I feared them nonetheless.

As she stepped behind me I immediately felt the clamp being forced into my
rectum. I was still stretched from my earlier battle with the dildos so it was
not terribly painful. However when she started to open the clamp it felt as if I
was being torn and my pleas grew louder. I was also concerned with what she was
going to do.

While the men watched intently she went back to the tray and put on a pair of
rubber gloves. For some reason that scared me very much and I began to cry and
beg even louder. I watched the Dr. open a container and remove something that
looked like an egg. Then she carefully grasped it with a pair of long forceps.
As I watched her step behind me again she began to speak.

She told the men that she was about to insert a ginger suppository in me. It
would be a few minutes before it took effect. She explained that these
suppositories were mainly used on show horses. When put in the horses ass it
made them hold their tails up in the air trying to ease the terrible burning.
The Dr. said she had been using them for years in a variety of ways.

The men listened as the Dr. explained some of the uses. If a girl needed a
lesson she would be tied down and have several shoved into her pussy and ass.
She would be left that way for many hours feeling as if her insides were being
burnt away. When the victim submitted or had enough the only way to stop the
burning was to wash the ginger out with very hot, soapy water. The men were told
how the Dr. amused herself by watching the unfortunate victim give herself very
painful enemas in order to stop the burning.

As I felt it pushed deeply in me the Dr. continued her dialogue. She said that
when it melted I would experience a terrible burning sensation. I would also be
forced to relax the sphincter muscle. Then with a broad smile she said the main
reason for it's use was that it would cause me to try and push it out. That
coupled with the terrible burning sensation would guarantee a very enthusiastic
performance by me.

In her clinical tone she cautioned Mr. Winston to make sure he used a condom in
order to avoid getting the ginger on himself. As she departed to join the other
women she said I would start feeling the effects any minute and again assured
him that I would be a good fuck. Again the Dr. was true to her word. I began to
feel a terrible burning sensation deep within me. I was also aware that I was
putting on quite a show by trying to free myself from the chair. As my squirming
increased, the men's comments became more vulgar. Finally I heard Mr. Winston
say that it appeared that I was ready for him.

Although I tried desperately to tighten the cheeks of my ass, the effects of the
ginger made it impossible. It was easy for the man behind me to plunge his cock
fully into me. The rapid and unwanted penetration caused me to scream out in
pain. The burning sensation was also taking hold.

Knowing that my protests would only make this sodomy more enjoyable for my
attacker and difficult for me I tried a different approach. Despite what the Dr.
had said and with tears streaming from my eyes I tried to remain as still and
quiet as possible. My reasoning was that if he thought I was not being hurt he
would stop. Again I was wrong. My act only caused the two men to become angry.
Mr.Winston began pounding into my burning asshole as Mr. Gund came around to my
head. With nowhere to turn I watched as the German sadist dropped his jeans
again revealing his massive cock. He then grabbed a fistful of my blonde hair
and jerked my head up. His look was one of pure contempt. I then felt his large
and powerful hand strike the side of my face so hard I was sure he had knocked
out several teeth. Although I came close to being knocked unconscious, I clearly
heard him say that if I did not suck him well I would be severely punished.
Trying desperately to avoid any more suffering I opened my mouth as wide as
possible.

For the next ten or fifteen minutes my body received an unmerciful pounding at
the hands of my two rapists.

Mr. Gund was so large and brutal that I was sure my jaw would be dislocated. He
also took great satisfaction in forcing his huge cock into my throat making
breathing very difficult and causing me to gag violently. At the other end Mr.
Winston was still enjoying the ass he had desired for so long. With an almost
maniacal abandon he continued fucking as I continued to beg and burn. However,
as if the rape and suppositories was not punishment enough both men were very
free with their hands. Mr. Gund used my breasts to urge me to greater depths as
my swollen pussy was used as a handle to aid in penetration. Finally the men
came in their respective holes. Mr. Gund almost choking me as he savagely
gripped my hair and warning me to swallow every drop. Mr. Winstons movements
became tense and erratic until he collapsed on my back waiting for his breathing
to return to normal.

Totally exhausted, but still thrashing wildly trying to ease the burning, I
remained fastened to the chair. Slowly I became aware that some of the women had
gathered around to witness the oral and anal rape. I remember looking at the Dr.
and begging her to stop the burning. As she unhooked my wrist and ankle cuffs
she asked me if I wanted an enema. Without even a moments thought I screamed
"yes,anything". I was helped into the water room by Goldie and only the Dr.
followed. The others had apparently lost interest. Unfortunately these two
weren't done yet. I was roughly dragged to the table were the coffee and
cigarettes were. Goldie literally dropped me onto it. I was so weak and in so
much pain that I just laid my upper body across it and stayed there. In my
position I was able to watch as they prepared the solution.

They must have used the ginger often and knew I would do anything to stop the
unbelievable burning. They were filling a large bag with very hot water, I
remember seeing the steam rise. The Dr. was also adding things from the bottles
on the shelves. Next a very thick Nozzle was attached to the hose. Then
they hung the bag above me and handed me the nozzle. Next to add to my anguish
they walked to the opposite side of the room and sat down. There I was feeling
as if there were lit matches inside me, holding the enema, looking at my
torturers. After what seemed like an eternity, the Dr. spoke. She simply told me
that if I wanted to end the burning I would have to give myself the enema. She
quickly added that if I spilled a drop on the floor it would be taken away and I
would be left with the ginger. As difficult and humiliating as it was I began to
push the nozzle into my ass. After being sodomized by Mr. Winston and still
suffering the effects of the Bees Venom, I was very sore and swollen. Finally
after a lot of pushing and squirming the nozzle was in. I knew I would also have
to inflate the balloon. That was painful. What made it worse was the fact that I
was hurting myself. I had no choice I had to stop the burning. I kept pumping
the bulb to inflate the balloon until the pain was severe. I wanted to make sure
none of the liquid escaped. Next I released the clamp starting the flow.

Instantly one burning sensation was replaced by another. It was only a matter of
seconds before I felt the terrible pain of the enema. To add to my distress was
the long tight bra I was wearing, it didn't allow my stomach to expand. I was
about to close the clamp when I heard the Dr. saying the if I stopped the flow I
would not be allowed to restart it. I was so afraid of the ginger remaining in
me that I let the bag empty. It truly felt as if I would burst. I just laid
there whimpering. The cramps were getting bad, it was hard to breath and I was
fighting the urge to vomit. Worst of all were the two women watching me suffer
and laughing. Finally The Dr. told me I could let it out as they both left the
room.

Alone I crawled to the bowl and fought to release the enema. Somehow I must have
passed out because I awoke laying on the floor near the door looking up at Mrs.
Winston. I immediately began begging her to let me go. Instead of acknowledging
me she directed her reply to Goldie. I recall her telling the maid to bring me
upstairs. I remember how I began to sob, realizing that it was over and I had
survived.

Finally for the first time in almost twelve hours I was free of any restraints.
Slowly I stood using the wall for support. In a foolish show of defiance I gazed
at the group of perverts with my head held high. I was beyond caring about my
near nakedness or the bruises that covered most of my body. As I stood there I
tried desperately to disregard the burning deep in my intestine or the pain in
my tits and pussy. It was also hard to ignore the dried cum still on my thighs
and chest.

Although almost impossible considering the circumstances I was determined to
leave with some measure of dignity. But as Goldie helped me to the door Mrs.
Winston detected my show of bravery and had to have the last word. Making
certain everyone could hear she told me to make sure I was on time for work
Monday morning. She then added that I should keep my evenings free as she had
some plans for me. When I did not answer she drove her point home by yelling,
"do you understand slave".

They had done to me again, I was beaten. As I exited the door of the dungeon I
did so with my head hung cursing them under my breath. Struggling to climb the
stairs I began to mentally curse myself. After all it was my own stupidity that
had put me in this position. Now I would be made to pay the price only I did not
fully understand how high it would be.

End of Part 2

Continued In,

A Year Of Slavery # 3-1 " Tina "

A Year Of Slavery # 3-1 " Tina "

By: debs

Edited By: Johnny P
Goldie simply but maliciously opened the door, pushed me out and threw my coat
after me. The bright morning sun was blinding after the gloom of the torture
chamber. The cold Long Island air helped clear my head but also made me realize
I was almost nude. Clinging to an ornate banister for support I looked up to get
my bearings and saw two figures approaching me. In a panic I tried to focus and
at the same time retrieve my coat. Suddenly I heard a female voice softly saying
my name.

It took several seconds for me to recognize Tina Reisand, a co-worker from the
office and the chauffeur. This could not be. I had been discovered. What would I
say. What would I do. Before I was able to say or do anything Tina picked up my
coat and gently placed it over my shoulders. I began to ask what she was doing
here. She calmly said not to talk saying there would be plenty of time for
explanations later. Tina and the chauffeur then helped me into the waiting limo.
I must have passed out because when I awoke I found myself lying across the back
seat of the limo still dressed in the long black bra and stockings I had on
during my ordeal. I saw the drivers eyes in the rear view mirror as he watched
my every move. I frantically tried to cover up as he asked if I was all right.
Thinking he was speaking to me I was about to answer when Tina said "She doesn't
appear to be seriously injured". In my semi conscious state I had forgotten
Tina.

Startled I demanded to know what she was doing there. At the same time I
struggled with my coat trying to shield myself from the chauffeurs gaze. Tina
was gently helping me sit up and at the same time saying that I should calm down
and she would explain everything as soon as we got to my house. She also told me
not to be too concerned with the driver saying he had seen it all before. As we
kept driving I drifted in and out of consciousness When I looked up again I
recognized my neighborhood. I had a million questions to ask Tina but as I
started she again said there would be plenty of time later. We finally pulled up
in front of my building and luckily it was still very early in the morning and
none of my nosy neighbors where up yet. Tina helped me from the car but I could
barely stand let alone walk. She turned to the chauffeur and said "Jimmy please
help us upstairs".

Without thinking I handed him the keys and he opened the door. Then they each
took an arm and helped guide me to my apartment. Jimmy opened the second door
and I was helped in and to the couch. I was at last home and for the first time
since 6 o'clock last evening I felt somewhat safe. Silently I huddled in the
comfort of my own surroundings. I was surprised to hear the chauffeur ask Tina
if there was anything else he could do. Her reply was even more surprising. She
said she would beep him if she needed his help and then asked if he could pick
us up for work Monday morning. Before he could answer Tina just asked for a yes
or no adding, she knew the deal. I did not understand what the meaning of all
that was but he assured her he would and coyly promised to help in any way.
Looking back over his shoulder he gave us both an evil smile and shut the door
leaving me alone with Tina. I watched in silence as she quickly looked for and
found what was needed to make coffee. She also found a large pot and filled it
with hot water. She called over to me asking where to find towels. When she
found them she brought them and the pot of water to the couch. Not willing to be
put off any longer I insisted that she start to answer some questions.

She agreed but said we could talk while she attended to my injuries. I felt
helpless and strange as Tina began to undress me. First she took off the red
heels I had been wearing all night. Next she undid the garters and rolled the
stockings down my legs. As she started to unhook the heavy bra Goldie had forced
me into earlier my nervousness made me again demand to know what was going on.
My eyes met Tina's in time to see tears forming. I was so confused by what I saw
I did not realize that she had removed the bra leaving me totally naked again.
As she began to wet the towels in the hot water Tina just blurted out that she
was also being blackmailed and in the same predicament as me.

I felt my mouth fall open in disbelief. We had worked together for over six
years and I never had the vaguest idea. Even as she wiped me down with the
soothing liquid I stared at her in shock watching the tears roll down her
cheeks. Finally she broke the silence by saying "They really did a job on you".
I think I just began to stutter phrases like "I can't believe it hurts so bad".

As she placed towels on my abused breasts and I flinched from the pain she
replied "I know how you feel, I've had it all done to me".

The realization of what she was saying suddenly hit me. I tried to get up saying
"What do you mean you're being blackmailed too". Letting out a deep sigh of
despair Tina got up and said she would get the coffee and

explain everything from the beginning. Returning from the kitchen in a few
seconds she placed a cup of coffee in front of me. Seemingly to make idle
chatter and give her time to collect her thoughts she commented on the variety
and quality of my coffee stock. "I had it for when John came, he enjoys good
coffee" I replied.

Tina sat in a chair next to me, kicked off her shoes and tucked her knees into
her chest similar to a pre-natal position. I interpreted her actions as a form
of seeking shelter and trying to escape from reality. Obviously what she had to
say was very painful for her. At last she began. She said she had a daughter who
was now twenty four. When she was twenty she got involved with drugs and was
arrested for possession. It turned out that she had two grams over some specific
limit and was charged with dealing. After many thousands of dollars in legal
fees and a lawyer who was more interested in how much he could make, she was
sentenced to five years in the state prison for woman.

Tina continued to tell me how she tried appeals, other lawyers, even government
officials. She tried anything she could think of because her daughter Denise was
all she had. Tina recalled how she married young. Was involved in an abusive
relationship with a man who was constantly cheating. They had a daughter and
were soon divorced leaving her on her own before she was twenty one. Denise was
all she had. Before Tina went on she re-heated the towels and replaced them on
the battered areas of my body. She suggested that after I rest awhile a hot bath
would help. I acknowledged the suggestion and asked her to go on with her story.
Apparently when Denise got to prison she was young, attractive and white. Those
qualities put her in great demand with both the guards and the inmates, most of
whom were minorities with lesbian tendencies. Denise was in trouble right from
the start.

On Tinas first visit she could see that Denise had been beaten and was on the
verge of a break down. Denise was hysterical as she described how she had been
attacked and sexually violated. Tina was shocked as her daughter told of the
threats that had been made if she did not do as she was told. Seeing her childs
fragile state and hearing Denise talk, Tina knew her daughter would not survive.
Tina immediately went to see the wardress.

Upon entering the wardresses office she could not believe her good fortune. It
turned out to be Ms. Collins, a client of the Winstons she had met several times
at the office. After a cordial but hurried exchange Tina explained her reason
for being there. The wardress seemed genuinely concerned and without hesitation
promised to look into the matter but explained that prison was after all a
dangerous place full of societies rejects. Tina recounted how she cried and
begged the wardress for help adding that she would do anything to ensure her
childs safety. The wardress at that point told Tina that because she worked for
the Winstons she was sure something could be done.

A loud moan from me gave Tina the chance to stop telling her story, which seemed
to be very difficult to relate. The pain was not subsiding so Tina insisted that
I take a hot bath to help bring down the swelling. She also said that she had
some ointment that would help. Not waiting for my reply, she headed into the
bathroom and started a bath. Returning she helped me from the couch. As we
headed toward the bathroom I felt very strange walking next to this woman
totally nude. We did work together but really did not know each other very well.
We had gone out for lunch or dinner several times over the years but for
whatever reason did not become close friends. I thought of Tina as being
unusually quiet and often moody. She always kept to herself and worked long
hours, often coming in early and staying late. Many times I wondered why she put
in such long hours for no apparent reason. The water was painful as it touched
my body but I tried to hold back the sobs. Tina explained that it was necessary
and I would soon feel better. She was right. After a few minutes I did feel a
bit better. I took this opportunity to ask Tina why she was here, and how long
she was staying. I thought back to the request she made to the chauffeur, who's
name I learned was Jimmy, about picking us up Monday morning. Her answer was
that she would spend the rest of the weekend with me. The Winstons ordered her
to help me and also explain certain things to me. But she quickly added that she
was glad to do it, and only wished someone had helped her in the beginning. As
some of the pain began to seep from my body and my mind started to clear I felt
both confused and embarrassed. Tina seemed to sense my discomfort and suggested
I go lie down for awhile. She helped me to my feet as she took a robe from
behind the door and placed it over my shoulders. She then gently helped me into
the bedroom, suggesting I sleep for awhile promising to tell me more later. With
the state I was in later would not do. I asked, no, more demanded that Tina get
us more coffee and explain, as she put it. Obviously what she had to tell me was
not easy for her. She went back to her story by telling how she trusted the
wardress and the Winstons. She was certain her daughter would be safe. Tina
explained how Denise was given a job in the prison office and even kept in a
separate dorm away from general population. Everything seemed to be going as
well as possible. After a month or so Tina explained how one day she was asked
to stay late for a meeting. To her surprise the people at the meeting were Mr.
and Mrs. Winston, the wardress, Dr. Kim and Goldie.

Tina could only imagine it was a business meeting and she was needed in some
way. She recalled how she immediately went to the wardress to personally thank
her for her help. Instead of the charming Ms. Collins Tina had spoken to in the
past she was shocked to be told to sit down, shut up and listen. It sounded
familiar as Tina explained how she was given a choice. She would either do as
the group ordered or Denise could fall into harms way. First Tina was reminded
of her willingness to do anything to help her daughter. She then listened to a
detailed explanation of what they demanded of her in return for Denise's safety.
Feeling suddenly ill Tina ran from the office in tears. She was shocked at what
she had been told. There was no way that she or any woman would willingly do
what they asked.

That night as she sat alone worrying about her daughters safety Tina got a call
from a terrified Denise. She told her mother that she was being transferred back
to population and begged for help. It was easy to realize what was happening. If
Tina refused to cooperate with her employers and their friends, her daughter
would not survive. In desperation Tina placed a call to the Winstons. After a
lot of begging and pleading on not only her daughters behalf but also her own
she tried in vain to offer other forms of payment. When Mrs. Winston laughed,
Tina's temper prevailed and she threatened to call the police. As tired and hurt
as I was Tina's story had my full attention.

The next day Tina called in sick. She had spent the entire night thinking of
what to do. Her thoughts kept going back to what she was told the previous day
and of her daughters situation. She kept thinking that what they wanted of her
was not normal. If sex was all they demanded, even with women, she could handle
that. After all she was forty one years old, not in bad shape, had been divorced
nearly twenty years. She had also been around. But what they demanded was sick,
perverted and disgusting.

Without being told I knew what she meant. She told me how her thoughts were
interrupted around noon by the knock of a messenger at the door. She was given a
package that contained a video tape and a note. I couldn't help but think how
familiar this was to my own entrapment. She recalled how she immediately began
to watch the tape. It was obviously a tape made at the prison. The voice
narrating the tape was that of the wardress. Tina recognized some of the rooms
shown from her visits. After a minute or two the scenes shifted to rooms Tina
had never seen. What she did see was a cell with about a dozen women laying
around. Most of them were either black or Spanish. The majority looked old,
dirty and tough. There were a few young white girls like Denise, they all looked
scared.

Another scene showed a group of black women in a large shower room. Some were
being washed by young white girls while in a corner several others were kicking
and punching a small blonde. As Tina studied the tape she saw that most of the
women were badly bruised, some even looked like they had been whipped. The next
scene showed an attractive redhead. She was nude and hanging by her wrists
screaming as she was being brutally whipped by the wardress. The camera showed
the entire room. To Tina's horror it was some kind of dungeon. Tina began to cry
openly as she continued telling me what she saw. As the camera moved it showed
Denise strapped to a large wooden table. She was screaming as four burly female
guards were ripping her clothes off. On the table next to Denise was an
assortment of dildos and several horrible looking whips. At that point Tina said
the tape went blank.

She recalled how she picked up the note and read about how this and worse could
easily happen unless she decided to save her daughter and cooperate. As they had
managed to coerce me into submission, they had also succeeded with Tina. She had
no choice, Denise was all she had and the group knew it. Seeing her child at the
mercy of the guards made Tina run to the phone and place a call to Mr. Winston.
Hysterically she begged him to call the prison and make them stop. She promised
to do whatever they wanted in order to insure her daughters safety. In a tone of
voice she had never heard from

Mr. Winston before, he said he had been expecting her call. He then asked her if
she was sure about her change of attitude. Tearfully Tina admitted she was
trapped and had no choice. Sarcastically he told her how right she was and
agreed to call the prison. He then told her to be at work tomorrow and be
prepared to stay late. Tina recalled how he anticipated her next question. He
told her that after work she would meet with some of the others involved and
would need to sign some papers. Then even more sarcastically he added that he
looked forward to seeing her tomorrow. Tina remembered how angry yet helpless
she felt as she heard him laughing as he hung up the phone. As much as I tried
to remain still and listen to her story it was impossible. The swelling and
burning sensation where I was given the injections was getting much worse. I
told Tina what was wrong. Without saying a word she opened my robe and took a
look. She said ice packs might help. She got up and headed into the kitchen. A
few minutes later she was back with three plastic bags full of ice. Two were
placed on my breasts and one was eased between my legs. As I grimaced in pain
she assured me it would help bring down the swelling. Then she asked me if
anything else was hurting badly. I complained about the burning from the
suppositories. She assured me that the enema would cure that in a few hours.
Looking at the whip marks on my thighs she said that she had some ointment that
would help that.

After Tina gently treated the bruises she said that she had some pills and
ointments that she had collected through the years. She asked me if I knew what
was in the injections I had been given. "I think they said Bees venom, do you
know what it is"? I answered. Nervously she said "Unfortunately very well, it's
one of their favorites and they've used it on me many, many times".

The way Tina answered I could tell it was hard for her to discuss. She handed me
a small pill she said was Benadryl and said "Luckily these work well on any
histamines they use". As soon as I swallowed the pill I asked her to please tell
me about the injections. Obviously trying to close the subject she said "Please
Deb, you have to sleep, we'll have plenty of time to talk later". I should have
realized Tina was trying not to upset me but I kept demanding to know more.
Again a nervous look crossed her face as she fluffed the pillows trying to make
me comfortable. "There are some things you're better off not knowing just yet"

she said as she curled into the chair next to my bed. I could see by her face
that she was upset but I kept pushing. For some strange reason I wanted to know
what they had done to Tina. I felt knowing would help me cope with my own pain
and impending ordeals. After a long silence Tina agreed to answer my questions
saying she thought about it and often wished she had had someone to explain
things to her in the beginning. Also there were her instructions from the
Winstons. She asked me if I wanted her to continue with her story or tell me
about the injections. I thought for a second and said "We'll go back to you in a
minute, right now I'm thinking about what they did to me and the pain I'm in".
She took a deep breath and began.

Tina started by saying that different types of needles would often be used on
me. She explained how a large variety of liquids were used in the injections.
Some were as simple as very hot water or oil, others complex drugs. Some were
plant or animal extracts like poison ivy or the Bees Venom. Mostly these were
given in syringes of various sizes, which according to Tina was not nearly as
bad as an intravenous system they sometimes used.

Generally the procedure was done by the Dr. but Tina warned that anyone of them
could do it. She was nervously playing with her hands as she told me that the
breasts were used ninety percent of the time but no part of the body was spared.
I babbled some stupid comment and sat shaking my head in disbelief. Lowering her
eyes toward the floor Tina said that she had even been given shots in her tongue
and clit. As if to anticipate my next question Tina went on to explain why she
had been given certain injections.

The main reason was that the group enjoyed it and also because it made the
victim suffer and scream. Sometimes shots were given as punishment for a
specific reason. I asked Tina what she meant. She told me that once in the
beginning of her enslavement she did not suck Mr. Winston as well as he thought
she should have. That afternoon she was taken to Dr. Kims office by Mrs. Winston
and Goldie. When she was taken downstairs into the private treatment room she
knew she was in trouble. As she entered there were several other women who
apparently were there for the show.

Tina told me how she was immediately ordered to strip and get on the examining
table. Although she was terrified she did as she was told, knowing from
experience that to disobey only brought more pain. Without elaborating Tina told
me how during the course of that afternoon she was given over thirty injections.
More than twenty syringes full of various liquids were put into her breasts. The
Dr. also spent a long time torturing her pussy with the needles. Most were
injected into the outer lips but some very long ones were used internally. I
could see that Tina was having a tough time talking about her past experiences.
My requests and her orders to tell me what I had to look forward to kept her
talking. Coffee and a cigarette helped Tina continue. With shaking hands she
recalled how when she was sure she would go mad from the pain the Dr. announced
that there were only two more syringes left to be used. She explained how her
tongue was pulled out with a pair of forceps and held by one of the observers.
At the same time Mrs. Winston told her that because she did not use her mouth
properly, that is where she would receive the most pain. Tina summed up that
part of her story by saying she of course passed out as each needle was slowly
inserted into her tongue by the Dr. It was almost a full week before the
swelling went down enough for her to talk normally. It took even longer to eat
with no pain. As Tina looked directly into my eyes she said "That was the last
time Mr. Winston complained about a blow job from me". Although I was horrified
and upset at what I had just heard I also took it as a warning. Without any
prompting Tina began to recount other episodes with the injections. In one story
I was told how the Dr. used the syringes as tools of torture during our monthly
check-ups. I remember being told that I would be checked every month but it did
not seem relevant at the time. Now I listened with renewed interest.

Tina was becoming more at ease. She explained how for their own safety the group
required us to be given complete physical exams every four weeks. Their primary
concern was to check us for any diseases and make sure we were in good health.
We would receive any medication the Dr. felt was necessary, be given vitamins
and birth control drugs and last but not least have a lot of blood drawn. Mostly
though the Dr. used the exams to enjoy her own perverted games and turn simple
medical procedures into torture. I saw by the expressions on Tina's face how
hard it was for her to tell me about some of the ways the Dr. had used needles
on her.

She told me how blood is drawn from places like our nipples or pussy lips.
Sometimes the Dr. even uses special long needles to reach inside our pussies to
take blood. Depending on how sadistic the Drs. mood was normal medications were
often injected into our breasts, stomachs, arm pits or even clits.

I quickly began to understand Tina's body language and facial expressions. When
a specific subject was upsetting to her she began to sweat and clench her hands
into tight fists. As she spoke of the check-ups I watched her knuckles turn
white. She looked at me and said that even after three years the Dr. still
scared her. At that point she warned me about asking to go to the Dr. Unless it
was absolutely necessary I should never ask to be treated. Tina told me to learn
how to help myself or like now, we would help each other. Getting up from the
chair she was curled into Tina checked on the ice packs and said the swelling
was going down a little. She put a head on the coffee and told me that luckily I
did not seem to be having any allergic reactions to the shots. That statement
made me remember what she had said about the venom being one of their favorites
and that she had been injected many times. When I asked her what she meant she
just looked back at me, shrugged her shoulders and said "I may as well tell you
so you'll know what to expect". With that statement Tina began to explain the
horrors of the Bees Venom.

Not only was it used for torture, it was also used to accentuate certain parts
of our bodies. Tina told me that sometimes before certain events she had been
taken to the Drs. office. The treatment she received depended on what was going
to be done to her and how they wanted her to look. Although I listened to every
word, I didn't completely understand what she meant and I said so. My ignorance
and lack of understanding seemed to be getting her even more upset. After a few
moments hesitation she said "Let me tell you what happened about two weeks ago,
it might help you understand."

Tina told me that it was 9am Friday morning. She had just arrived at work and
without warning was called into Mr. Winstons office. With an evil smile on his
face he told her that she would be going to Harlem later that night. As my eyes
widened and I opened my mouth to ask a question, Tina said she would explain
Harlem later. Continuing she said that Mr. Winston also told her to be at Dr.
Kims. office at noon. From past experience she unfortunately knew why. She had
been taken to Harlem many times during the three years of her enslavement.
Sometimes she was taken by Goldie. Other times it was because the group was paid
a great deal of money by a woman named Bertha. In either event it meant she
would be used in a show or as a whore and had to be prepared by the Dr.

I could see how upset she was by the beads of sweat on her face and the way she
continued clenching her fists. Tina nervously shifted in her chair lighting
another cigarette and taking a long swallow of coffee. Apparently telling me
about Harlem and what was done to her by the Dr. was difficult. As she returned
to her original position she continued.

She was taken to Dr. Kims office by the chauffeur. On the way he handed her a
sealed envelope which contained her instructions for the night. There were three
women sitting in the Drs. waiting room. They would all be going into one of the
plush examining rooms on the main floor. Tina had to sit, wait her turn and
think about her trip to the basement, and later to Harlem. After an agonizing
two hour wait the office was empty except for Dr. Kim and her equally sadistic
little oriental nurse.

Without a word they pushed Tina towards the stairs leading to the secret
treatment room. As I listened a shudder ran through me as I remembered my own
visit to the dreaded torture chamber. Tina saw my reaction but continued
talking. Upon entering, the Dr. locked the door and roughly ordered Tina to
remove her dress. She was then directed to stand in her high heels and underwear
with her hands behind her neck. She stood that way for almost an hour watching
and listening as the Dr. and nurse prepared for her treatment.

Being made to stand in that position was not unusual, she said. They do it to
humiliate us and make us realize what we are. It was also done to give anyone
present a chance to visually and physically examine us. Finally the Dr. was
standing in front of her, Tina recalled. She made her remove her bra and resume
her position. Tina already knew by the note she was given that she was being
sent to Bertha. She also knew that they were going to increase the size of her
breasts, but as usual the Dr. wanted to mentally torture her first.

She reminded Tina of the last time she was given a similar treatment. She spoke
of the pain of the needles and the special solution she had used. She reminded
Tina how Bertha had her held down, across a table as she whipped her tits with a
strap to make her perform better. And lastly how painful it was to have the
solution removed. As Tina had done before she combined her story with an
explanation of what I could expect in the future. She briefly told me how after
being made to strip completely she was strapped to a steel table in the corner.
There she was douched with a solution of alcohol and very hot water. She was
also given several large painful enemas by the nurse.

Hearing the words douche and enema made me suddenly remember what Goldie had
subjected me too only a short time ago. I must have made some type of expression
that prompted Tina to say " I'll bet you spent some time in the water room".
That comment opened the door for me to bring up the ginger that was put in me.
Knowingly Tina said "the enema they gave you will take the burning away soon".
When I made a comment about having something as personal as a douche or enema
done by a stranger, Tina said I could expect that often. Sometimes it would be
done before we were sent somewhere. Mostly it was done afterwards, especially if
we were used a lot sexually. She added that it was only done by the Dr. if we
needed some other form of medical treatment. Otherwise we were sent to Goldies
aunt Dorathea. Again, before I was able to ask any questions she summed that
part up by saying that the worst of then were given in the water room as another
form of torture. She added that I should remind her to tell me about Dorathea,
later.

She immediately continued telling me what happened in the Drs. office while she
was still secured to the table. The nurse brought the Dr. six syringes which
Tina said she knew were an assortment of vitamins, stimulants and anti-biotics.
She was always given these injections before being sent to Bertha and always in
the most painful ways. As bad as I felt physically from what I had been through,
it was nothing compared to the mental anguish I was feeling listening to Tina. I
watched her as she came toward me to check the ice packs. It was amazing how
well she looked after three years of the treatment she was describing. I had
only been involved in two sessions and felt that I could not take any more. When
Tina began to once again speak I gave her my full attention. She briefly
described the way she was given the injections and the pleasure the Dr. derived
from causing her the greatest amount of pain possible. Then She began to tell me
what happened when she was released from the table.

As she said before, she knew the Dr. was going to temporarily increase the size
of her breasts, this time using the bees venom. That procedure was basically
done one of two ways. The first Tina said was the way it had been done to me. By
having a series of injections put directly into each tit. Although that was very
painful she prayed that the Dr. would do that instead of by the intravenous
system that was also used.

When she was pushed toward a door she had gone through several times before she
knew she was about to suffer terribly. The door lead to a small room in which
she had previously been given prolonged breast torture. When the door opened and
she saw the two IV stands with all the bottles and tubes hanging ready she began
to sob and beg the Dr. not to do it that way. She even told me how she tried
bargaining with the Dr. Offering to voluntarily submit to other forms of
torture. She also promised to be a willing and enthusiastic sex slave to the
Drs. most perverse desires. The Dr. only smiled and sarcastically said she could
make Tina do any of those things regardless.

Tina tried in vain to plead her case. When she was ordered to enter the room she
refused. With a wide grin on her face the Dr. told Tina how easy it would be to
have Denise take her place. As usual Tina put her head down and did as she was
told. The nurse pointed to the large wooden chair that Tina was all too familiar
with. It was the same as the one in the dungeon at the Winston house. The nurse
quickly strapped Tina's ankles to the heavy wooden legs and pulled her arms
behind the back of the chair. With the use of special straps Tina described how
her elbows were made to touch causing severe pain to her shoulders and also
causing her breasts to be thrust forward. To complete the bondage a wide belt
was tightened around her waist making it virtually impossible for Tina to move.
As the nurse began swabbing her chest with alcohol the Dr. picked up a folder
containing Tina's files and began to read out load. She read more to cause Tina
mental anguish than to gather information. As if Tina needed to be told the Dr.
explained that by administering 300cc of venom into each tit she would increase
the size of Tina's chest from 36-C to at least a 38-D. Unfortunately Tina knew
from past experience that it would take about two hours to have that much flow
into her. She also knew that she would be in a lot of pain and run high fevers
for almost a week if that much of the chemical was not neutralized.

Even before the first needle was forced deeply into her delicate tissue Tina
shuddered at the thought of what price she would have to pay the Dr. in order to
have the right anti-histamines given. She told me that in the past she tried to
wait for the solutions to dissipate naturally but could not. She realized long
ago that it was better to submit to the Drs. demands, no matter how perverse.
Even now it was clear to see the fear and agony on Tina's face as she described
how the needles were inserted. One set about two inches long were put into the
upper slope of each breast. A second similar set was bushed deeply into the
tender undersides. Then the last and by far the worst set which were about three
inches in length were forced through the nipple into the center of the breast.
Before Tina's words came to an end I visualized her in the chair screaming as
the Dr. and nurse looked on in amusement. I remembered how they looked at me as
they put the syringes into my breasts. As she again got up to check on me she
said that she remained in the chair well over two hours before the bottles were
empty. When she was released, she was bathed in sweat. Partially from the pain,
partially from the fever that was taking hold.

I was then told how the Dr. spent a few minutes checking and squeezing her
swollen and burning breasts. Tina was then told to freshen up, fix her hair and
make-up and then she would get her clothes. At that statement she began to
laugh. When I asked why she explained that she was laughing at the word clothes.
It really meant some form of revealing and very uncomfortable underwear. In that
particular instance she was given an especially made, black, heavily constructed
garter girdle. Tina sarcastically added that it allowed access to her ass and
pussy without being removed. A black half cup bra, which not only caused pain
but also showed her exaggerated breasts very well. Black stockings and red high
heels. To that the Dr. added a black half slip, red blouse and 2 piece black
suit. The puzzled look on my face made Tina quickly say that the more we wore,
the more we could be made to take off. As she was finally lead out of the hidden
torture chamber to the waiting limo the Dr. sarcastically told her to enjoy her
night in Harlem and call when she was ready to have the solution neutralized. My
mind was full of questions. The more I analyzed what was said, the more
questions I wanted to ask. I sat staring down at the ice packs on my own abused
breasts trying to absorb what I had been told. I thought of what Tina had just
said and remembered a phrase the Dr. had once used when she was examining my
breasts. Ideal for tit torture. I also recalled the tour I was given by Mrs.
Winston. When she showed me the chair Tina had described she said I would be
spending long hours bound to it, receiving "tit torture".

Again I was brought out of my daydream by Tina. She suggested I take another
bath while she made something for us to eat. She also reminded me how badly I
needed sleep. Besides the ordeal I had gone through I had been awake for more
than twenty four hours. I did indeed need sleep but between Tinas explanations
of what my future had in store, and the pain, sleep was the furthest thing from
my mind. After the ice packs, the hot water felt wonderful. With Tinas help I
got out of the tub and dried off. Looking in the mirror was a mistake. I was a
mass of bruises and now even though the swelling had subsided a bit, my pussy
and tits were turning black and blue. When I asked Tina why, she took a look and
asked if I had been beaten with a rubber hose. When I said yes, Tina told me
that the hoses did not break the skin but damaged the blood vessels underneath
causing the severe bruising. She quickly added that they would heal in a week or
two. As I stared at the image in the mirror, I began to cry hysterically. How
could this have happened. What had been done to me and what Tina was describing
was too bizarre to be real. I tried to tell myself that It must be some kind of
sick and perverted nightmare. But as I looked into the reflection of my own eyes
and surveyed my surroundings I knew it was all too real.

Wrapping my robe around my shoulders I slowly went to the table and sat down.
Tina had put together a quick lunch of soup and sandwiches. Even though I had no
appetite, it was a welcome change from the coffee and cigarettes. Before I had a
chance to start asking anymore questions, Tina began to inquire about some
photos that were nearby. Most were of my nieces and nephew. A few were of my
father, mother, brothers and sisters. And one was of John. As I looked at his
picture I realized I would not be able to see him anymore. Since my crimes had
been discovered I had withdrawn from him. He kept trying to see me and spend
time with me. I used every possible excuse to avoid him. When we did see each
other I managed to always be somewhere other than my apartment. I felt that way
there would be little chance of intimacy. When asked about the change in my
behavior I said it was the pressure of my job and even blamed PMS.

Until now it was mainly my mental state that had caused me to act this way. Now,
the image I had seen in the mirror plainly indicated that he could never see me
nude again. All of a sudden as I sat there, I realized how much I loved him and
how much I would miss him. I began to cry. Without asking Tina realized why I
had become so hysterical. She tried to offer condolence and reassurance but knew
what she was saying was pointless. She tried to comfort me holding me and wiping
my tears. When I had calmed a bit I saw for the first time that she was also
crying. As I looked at her she said she knew exactly how I felt because she had
also been forced to abandon a love. Instead of returning to the bedroom when we
finished eating, I went into the living room and curled up on the couch. It was
bright and cheerful so I thought it might make my life seem less depressing.
Tina soon joined me with the ever present coffee and cigarettes. As soon as she
was comfortable I asked, in a tone that I myself realized sounded very
demanding, to be told about Harlem. Without argument She just looked at me and
said "you may as well know, you'll be going there to".ÿ

A Year Of Slavery # 3-2

As Tina started telling me about Bertha it was easy to detect the hatred she had
for this person. Bertha was an older black woman from Harlem who was also a
sadistic lesbian. Besides being politically connected, she was also on the
prison board. That put her within easy reach of Denise.

Like the rest of the group she was quite wealthy. It was rumored that a few of
her enterprises were very illegal, but because of her connections to City Hall,
she was left alone. Among these illegal activities was the business of arranging
very unusual parties and shows. She owned an old factory building in a fairly
deserted and run down part of Harlem. That's where most of her parties and
whatever else she did took place. It also served as one of the places she
indulged in her own perverse games.

Her clients were mostly Black, Puerto Rican, Jamaican and Asian drug dealers,
pimps and other assorted criminals. They all shared one common interest. They
enjoyed using and abusing white women. To these people money was no object. They
took great pleasure in raping, humiliating and causing pain to the women
unfortunate enough to be the victims supplied by Bertha.

Tina explained that basically there were two reasons to be sent to Bertha. The
first was for one of her parties or shows. These usually had about fifty or
sixty so called guests present. It was Bertha's job to furnish the appropriate
entertainment. That was our purpose. Generally there would be five or six of us.
Some were women like Tina and I who were slaves belonging to the group. Others
were inmates from the prison sent by the wardress. Often there would even be a
woman who displeased one of Bertha's clients. The parties were all basically the
same. We were either tortured or forced to put on disgusting exhibits for the
mens entertainment. Then we were gang raped in any number of ways or worse,
forced into servicing large groups of men. The second reason was simple but
often far worse than the first. Bertha wanted to play.

I was totally shocked and horrified by what I was hearing but something inside
me demanded to know more. I asked Tina to tell me what happened after she was
prepared at the Drs. office. Again the wringing of her fingers indicated her
reluctance to continue. After a short pause she began to speak.

She recalled leaving the Drs. and walking toward the waiting limo. Jimmy the
chauffeur stared at her with his familiar and all knowing look. At that point I
made an inquiry about the chauffeur, Tina answered.

He had been driving her and the others for a long time. Although as far as she
knew he never took part in the groups activities, he knew all too well what was
going on. She told me that many times after a session it was Jimmy who helped
the girls and made sure they got home. When necessary he would provide first aid
until one of the other women arrived. When I asked if he did that out of
kindness, Tina just laughed and simply said "no for sex". A second later she
said that he really wasn't that bad and suggested I get on his good side. "An
occasional fuck or good blow job work really well" she added, stressing the
point that I would need him. I immediately understood the exchange between Jimmy
and Tina that took place at the door to my apartment.

Checking the swelling and making a brief comment indicating a small improvement,
Tina took her seat and resumed. I was told that on the way to Harlem they
stopped in Queens to pick up Sharon. She was another unfortunate victim who was
deeply in debt to Mr. Gund. Tina said I would probably meet her very soon
because she was also used often. Her presence, along with the extensive douches
and enemas gave Tina some insight as to what she could personally expect at this
gathering. Again I asked what she meant. Tina was having difficulty talking. My
constant requests to know what they, meaning the group were going to do to me
along with her orders to prepare me made her continue.

First she explained that she was often forced to put on a show with Sharon. With
a faint red flush on her face and her eyes towards the floor she asked me if I
knew what the term "fisting" meant. I answered that I had heard it before but
specifically remember Mrs. Winston mentioning it. Without raising her eyes and
in a small voice, Tina blurted out that she was often fisted by Sharon or one of
the others. That was one reason for the douches and enemas the Dr. gave her
before the party. I looked at her shocked, but at the same time remorseful. All
I was able to say was "why, how". She just glanced up at me and said "don't look
so shocked, someday soon you'll have to do it to me or I to you". It only took a
second for her words to penetrate and have meaning. I remembered things that
were said about my being stretched until I was able to take large objects.
Somewhat regaining her composure she said "anyhow we arrived in Harlem about
eight". As usual the streets around the old factory were almost totally
deserted. Also as usual there were already several limos parked outside. As
always Tina said she made it a point to look for certain cars and trucks.
Unfortunately two that were familiar were parked near the end of the building.
One was a small blue truck with dark windows, the other a red van with
Pennsylvania plates.

Past experience told Tina this was going to be a big party which meant a long
and difficult night. The presence of the two trucks guaranteed that. She told me
the blue truck was from the prison. That meant the wardress had sent several
inmates to work with Tina, Sharon and whoever else. She also sent one or two of
her most trusted and vicious guards. They would help Bertha and her assistants
put on a show and make the women obey. It also meant a lot of pain and abuse.

After another pause during which I again watched Tina's lip begin to quiver she
spoke. While twisting her fingers she blurted out that the red van was from a
farm and brought animals. Then there was only a long silence. I was not exactly
sure what she meant. And I think Tina was waiting to see what my response would
be.

After a lot of thought and fearing the answer I said "don't tell me they make
you do it with animals". Again Tina's eyes went towards the floor as she began
to sob. It was hard to understand her words although I did catch two, "pain and
Denise".

It took a while for Tina to calm down. After long minutes locked in the bathroom
she returned and again freshened the coffee. Before I could say anything Tina
looked straight at me and almost defiantly said "don't judge me until you've
suffered the way I have. There comes a time when you'll do anything to avoid
anymore pain. And furthermore if I don't do it, they'll do it to my baby". I sat
silently, aghast at what I had just heard. My imagination was suddenly running
wild. Within the past five minutes I was made aware of two new and abominable
acts. Both of which I was sure would eventually be done to me. Suddenly random
words I had heard were making sense. Also, I was quickly beginning to realize
that what had already been done to me was nothing compared to what I could
expect in the future.

Without thought and showing no compassion toward Tina I started to ask questions
that in retrospect were very stupid. I wanted to know what kind of animals.
Also, what she did with them. Thankfully Tina could see my fear and nervousness.
She also knew that she had been sent by the group. As usual her task had a
hidden agenda. Obviously she was there to help with my injuries. Still my
torturers also knew I would have a million questions. In answering, they knew
Tina would cause me terrible anxieties. She would also be forced to relive some
of her own worst nightmares. We would both be tortured, mentally.

Again somewhat calm and ignoring my inquiries, Tina resumed her explanation of
why she received the injections. I had almost forgotten the original intent of
her story. Anyhow, she began Jimmy drove into a large loading dock on the side
of the building. As usual Tina said a shiver ran through her as a big steel
garage door was closed behind them. They were locked in with no escape. Inside
the old factory they were met by Bertha's assistants. Tina again stressed the
point that she was reassured by Jimmy that he would be waiting as usual.

From then on things began to move quickly Tina explained. Sharon and her were
roughly helped from the car by Bertha's two lez assistants. On the way through
the maze of dingy, dirty concrete corridors Tina told me how they were made to
stop. There they were both probed, grabbed and subjected to the taunts and
verbal abuse of the two young black females. Tina emphasized that her newly
enlarged breasts received most of the unwanted attention. Then they were taken
to a small room that served as a dressing room, refreshment area, bathroom and
holding cell. Once locked inside Tina said she was able to get a better idea of
what the night had in store for her and the other women.

It was the first time she was alone with Sharon and able to compare notes. Also
present were four inmates and a guard from the prison.

Three of the prisoners Tina said she had seen before. One she told me was new
and very young. As a source of identification, and for my benefit Tina gave me a
brief descriptions of the woman.

Sharon was small and petite, about thirty five years old. She was probably Irish
with long curly red hair. Although very tiny she had a nice body. Her most
noticeable traits were her silence and submissiveness. Tina explained that she
heard that several years ago Sharon had been sent to a party with someone like
Bertha. As usual she was being abused. Somehow she managed to pick up a bottle
and hit one of the guests. She was immediately grabbed, spread out on a table
and for long hours beaten with whatever was available. In the morning she was
picked up by Mr. Gund and brought to the prison. There they spent two solid days
torturing her. She still has some of the scars. Anyway Tina said, now she's very
quick to obey.

The guard was shouting at the other four. Under the threat of a cattle prod Tina
said they were getting into various articles of underwear and putting on
make-up. The very mention of the cattle prod sent a shiver through me. I clearly
remembered the blinding pain it had caused me.

Tina described one of the inmates as a big Spanish woman about forty. Her name
was Maria. She was attractive with long black hair and a large chest. Tina
nodded a greeting at her as she struggled with a long white bra with garters
attached. Tina couldn't help but notice the fresh whip marks over her entire
body. Tina added that she was a favorite at these parties because of her
defiance and fiery temper. They also liked her because she struggled fiercely
while being raped. That excited Bertha's clients and caused Maria a lot of
punishment which also pleased the perverts.

Sue was one of the others Tina had been with before. She was a brunette in her
late thirties but still in very good shape thanks to her plastic surgeon. She
was a Jewish American Princess who Tina said was set-up by people who had a
vendetta toward her husband and wanted to teach him a lesson. After a quick
trial Sue was sentenced to five years in prison. The husband it turned out was a
wimp and did nothing to save his wife. She became a guest of the wardress who
ironically knew the people teaching the lesson. Sue was immediately in big
trouble.

Not wanting to attract the guards attention, Sue was trying to force her
abundant silicone enhanced tits into a black push-up bra. She was already
wearing a black garter belt, stockings and heels. It was rumored she was one of
the favorite playthings of the wardress and her select guards. The bruises that
covered her body supported the rumor. The wardress played rough. She too was a
favorite at these gatherings. Her pampered lifestyle made prison life
particularly harsh. It also gave her an intense fear of physical harm and pain.
That fear made her willingly submit to the most degrading acts. It also made her
Bertha's most popular whore. To avoid the strap or cane Sue would lie on a bench
and let one guy after another fuck her. If someone wanted her ass she would
quickly turn over before she was hit. She would also spend hours on her knees
crawling from table to table giving blow-jobs, how many didn't seem to matter.
It was as if she enjoyed it.

Next Tina told me about a big chunky blonde she had only seen once before. She
was already wearing a white bra, heavily constructed girdle, stockings and
heels. She was crying pitifully and begging the guard not to hurt her again.
Tina recalled the last time she had seen the blonde. It was also at one of
Bertha's affairs. She was part of the show and brought out three separate times.
The first time she was hung in front of the audience, spreadeagle and upside
down. Bertha's assistants came out with a tray. Without any hesitation they
picked up tweezers and began pulling the hair out of the blondes pussy. That
took some time, the blonde screaming all the while. Blood was clearly visible
covering the area. To take care of that the two girls used a mixture of salt,
vinegar and lemon juice. When the hanging woman was revived she was made to
count twenty strokes of a strap on her raw pussy. Screaming and writhing in pain
she was untied and lead off the makeshift stage.

An hour or so later she was brought out for the second time. She was tied to a
table with her legs spread and tied to ropes hanging from the ceiling. Then
Bertha came out and roughly forced a large nozzle into her ass. All the while
the blonde was begging them not to give her an enema. It took a long time but
they pumped over a gallon of hot water into her until her stomach looked like it
would burst. To make it worse guests from the audience were allowed to step up
and use a thick rubber hose on her tits and stomach until screaming, she passed
out. She was then untied and with the nozzle and hose hanging from her they
dragged her to a back room.

A couple of hours later she was brought out for the last time. For this part of
the show she was spread out on an old metal bedspring. Heavy ropes held her arms
and legs in place. Thick electrical wires were clamped to her tits and two
others disappeared into her pussy and ass. Tina told me how Bertha kept using a
control panel to send powerful shocks into different parts of the poor woman.
Watching the blonde scream and go into convulsions was very entertaining for
Bertha's clients. Even though she passed out many times they continued the
electrocution until even several ammonia capsules wouldn't revive her. To make
the show more enjoyable for Bertha's guests, Tina said that she and the other
women were forced to crawl from table to table sucking the men. As encouragement
the two lezzies stood over them and beat them with straps.

Not knowing what else to say I sympathized with Tina for the sexual abuse she
had suffered. Strangely she began to laugh. It was bizarre, I didn't know how to
react. Finally she said "the sex is the easy part, fucking or sucking twenty or
thirty guys is a lot better than the torture, you'll see". I was again shocked
into silence.

Sitting there in my living room, although in considerable pain, that was a hard
statement to accept. It was also apparently a very real possibility. What I
myself had done only a few hours earlier to avoid more pain came to mind. It was
the first time I had thought about it and began to cry. Tina asked what was
wrong and I told her of my recollection. She looked at me sympathetically and
said "remember what I said about passing judgment". Seeing how upset I had
become Tina suggested we stop talking and rest. Again some morbid desire to know
what I had to look forward to took over. I asked Tina to continue. She began to
tell me about the young girl whose name was Rebecca. The girl was no more than
twenty or twenty one. She was blonde, extremely fair and also very well built.
She represented the typical white blond that Bertha and her mostly black clients
loved. As the girl stood totally nude it was easy for Tina to see the assortment
of bruises and realize what she had been through. It might have been her first
so called party, but she was no stranger to pain. The girl was begging someone
to tell her what was going to happen. She also wanted to know why she was the
only one not given anything to wear. As if prompted by the young girls questions
Bertha stormed into the room and ordered Becky to be brought out. Tina described
how the two assistants grabbed the cowering girl and dragged her into the main
room. She was immediately greeted by the loud and disgusting comments of the
nearly eighty men. Trying to break free of the two women holding her, Rebecca
was dragged onto a makeshift stage. There for the first time she was able to
gaze out at Bertha's guests.

While the girl struggled and tried to cover herself Bertha made her own entrance
and stepped onto the stage also. Tina explained how the audience of societies
filth shouted suggestions up to Bertha as to what should be done with and too
Becky. After several minutes Bertha called for silence and began to speak. She
simply told Becky that she had been sent by the wardress and was to follow
orders. Those orders Bertha added to everyone's applause was have sex with
anyone who wanted her.

I could see Tina getting nervous again as she told me how Becky renewed her
struggles and told Bertha that she would never let these animals touch her. With
a strange smile Tina looked at me and said "we all said those words, once".
Anyhow she continued, Bertha began to laugh and said to Becky "I hoped you would
say that".

At a signal from Bertha two thick ropes were lowered from the ceiling and tied
around Beckys wrists. Despite her struggles the girl was quickly raised until
her feet hung a foot from the stage. Screaming and cursing she wildly kicked out
at the black woman. All her attempts were in vain but enjoyed by all who
watched.

To the crowds delight Bertha's two assistants went to a nearby table and picked
up two whips. Tina described how she and the other women watched what was being
done on stage through a one way mirror. As Tina nervously played with her
fingers she commented about how well she knew the whips that were about to be
used. She added that all the women who had the misfortune of going to Bertha's
hell hole knew the whips well. As the women watched, their only comment was how
young Becky was. Silently they all remembered their first time and thought about
what was soon to come.

As Beckys struggles increased Bertha began to speak. The words were directed at
the hanging girl but for all to hear. Becky was told that she would be whipped
until she begged to be allowed to suck and fuck the guests. I was told how
Bertha used this opportunity to play to the crowd. She made a point of telling
her assistants not to miss any spots. Sadistically she jabbed a bamboo cane she
always carried into Becky's tits and pussy. While doing so she ordered her
assistants to pay special attention to these areas. Becky's only response was to
spit in Bertha's direction.

At that point Bertha stepped to the side and the whipping began. Rebecca's
screams were immediately heard over the cheers of the audience. Wherever the
young girl was touched by the whips an angry red welt appeared. Some stokes even
drew blood. The girl was receiving a truly savage beating. Bertha's two
assistants had done this many times and were very good at it. They also enjoyed
inflicting pain on other women. As Becky wildly thrashed in her bonds they took
careful aim. To the audiences delight the young girls breasts, stomach and
pelvic area were quickly becoming covered in blood. Tina knowingly explained how
painful the whipping was and added that Becky was foolish to resist. She added
that in the end Bertha always gets her way. I quickly realized that I was again
being tutored.

Finally Tina told me how the girl began to holler out her words of surrender. To
add to the spectacle and humiliate the young blonde, Bertha came forward. She
asked Rebecca to tell her what she was willing to do. When the girl did not
answer as Bertha or the audience wanted she would get a savage stroke of the
whip to the backs of her milk white thighs. Before very long Becky was begging
Bertha to let her down so the men could fuck her. Another stroke of the whip had
her begging to suck everyones cock. It took three more strokes before she
described how she would bend over and let them fuck her in the ass. With a look
of hatred on her face Tina said that Bertha had won again.

To the crowds delight Rebecca was untied and brought to the back room. There she
was quickly cleaned up so she could begin doing what she had agreed. At that
point the two dyke guards from the prison herded Becky, Maria and Sue together.
It was time for them to entertain the guests. It also meant the start of the
next act.

It was easy to see how painful it was for Tina to continue. As she sat there
twisting her fingers it was I who filled the coffee cups and lit the cigarettes.
I had begun to understand that Tina's hesitations and nervous displays meant she
was about to explain something personally painful. Slowly and uneasily, she
continued. With her head down and eyes riveted to the floor she quietly said
"Sharon and I were the next part of the show".

Tina recounted how Bertha's two assistants came to bring them out. To add to the
spectacle both women had their wrists put in handcuffs behind their backs.
Beside the cattle prods they always carried, the two sadistic lezzies also had
evil prison straps. Although it was not necessary they took every opportunity to
use both. Tina said Sharon and her knew all to well that it was useless to
resist and doing so would only lead to more punishments. Being fully clothed for
a change helped take the sting out of the strap. Tina added that it wouldn't
last too long.

I was told how the two women were goaded out and onto the stage. The audience
loved to see the bound women being hit, it added to the illusion of force. Once
on stage Tina was secured to a rope that hung from the ceiling. That left both
of Bertha's assistants free to work on Sharon. Her handcuffs were removed and
the act began. She was told to strip. With the liberal use of the strap and the
threat of the prod Sharon started to unbutton the dress she wore. Encouraged by
the audience, Bertha's girls stood on either side of Sharon and verbally abused
and threatened her. The crowd always enjoyed seeing and hearing a white female
being abused. Especially when it was done by one of their own.

Coerced by the stinging strokes of the straps Sharon quickly removed her dress
and half slip. Even as she hurried to obey, the loud crack of leather was
clearly heard. They were accompanied by Sharons stoic yelps. Much to the
sadistic satisfaction of the audience, red blotches began to cover the exposed
areas of pale white flesh. This is what the crowd of perverts paid big money to
see.

Tina described in detail how the assistants toyed with Sharon. She was telling
me what I could expect to see or be part of very soon. As if what had just been
done to me was not terrible enough, I was now pondering thoughts of standing on
that stage in front of the dregs of society.

Once Sharon had stripped down to a tight white corset, stockings and heels Tina
was untied and Sharon took her place. Having her wrists tied and hoisted toward
the ceiling gave the audience a perfect chance to study Sharon's petite but well
proportioned form. Her ample breasts bulged over the corset top. The people in
the front rows were able to see the deep scars that were now a permanent part of
those breasts. They remained from the days of torture she endured after hitting
the guest with a bottle. As usual there was a flurry of lewd and disgusting
remarks directed at the timid redhead.

As I watched Tina fidgeting with the cigarette in her hand I heard her almost
whisper "now it was my turn'. As they had just done to Sharon, the two lezzies
ordered Tina to strip. To emphasize the command they both began to use the
straps. Fortunately Tina explained that the suit she wore absorbed most of the
impact. The crowd enjoyed the beating and thought she was again being forced.
They had no way of knowing about Denise. Nor did they know that Tina would strip
instantly at the command. After years as a slave, being nude was of no
consequence. It wasn't worth the punishment she would get for disobedience.
During the course of these parties there was enough pain that was unavoidable. I
was told how Tina was forced to her knees by the leather biting into her back
and ass. As she indicated her surrender and agreed to undress the whipping
stopped. Tina indicated that the beating was part of the show and really
couldn't be avoided. As she began to remove her jacket Tina said she saw Maria
and Rebecca being held across tables while they were raped. Sue was, it
appeared, willingly sucking an extremely large Jamaican man with long
dreadlocks. The dyke guards stood nearby to ensure the womens obedience. Tina
recalled the reaction of the crowd as she removed the red blouse revealing her
chemically enhanced breasts. Standing in black half cup bra, half slip and red
heels, she was forced to listen to the mens remarks. Worse was the running
dialogue of Bertha who had joined the others on the stage. She gave a short
description of how Tina's chest had been enlarged especially for the party. She
promised that later everyone would get a chance to touch and abuse them and also
watch as they are beaten. When I uttered words of sympathy, Tina indicated that
what was going on was fairly mild and that it would get much worse. Now Bertha
was using a long thin bamboo cane to make Tina undress. A comment for my benefit
was that I should try and avoid Bertha's cane. Tina said that she had come to
know it well over the years and still had many scars. The worst being
permanently embedded in her mind. It took only one kiss of the vicious
instrument to have Tina remove her skirt and slip.

There we sat in my living room. As I looked across at Tina I was able to
visualize her standing on the stage in the black lingerie she had described. I
remembered the underwear I had worn only hours ago and imagined how helpless and
vulnerable Tina must have felt. For the first time I realized how attractive she
was and how good she must have looked.

The sound of her voice continuing the story brought me back to the present. She
told me how Bertha began to give her assistants orders. First Sharon was
released. Next a small table and box were brought on stage. In answer to the
puzzled look on my face Tina only said she had done this before and knew what to
expect. She also indicated that this part wasn't too bad. From her tone and
expression I figured it would get worse. At a command from Bertha Sharon took a
good size dildo and jar of Vaseline out of the box. Then she got onto the table
and coated the dildo with the lubricant. For the next few minutes and with the
crowds approval the petite redhead struggled to get the dildo all the way into
her pussy. At a command from Bertha she pulled it out, changed position and
began to push it in her ass. When it was finally all the way in, the crowd
called for more. Bertha handed Sharon another one, it was longer and thicker.
Under the ever present threat of the cane, Sharon labored with the second dildo.
With a lot of unwelcome help from the assistants, she succeeded in penetrating
both holes. The audience really came to life when Bertha held up the third
dildo. It was black, about twelve inches long and at least three inches wide. It
took several minutes, a lot of energy and a few strokes of the cane, but Sharon
was able to get most of it into her pussy. Tina described how she watched Sharon
turn pale when Bertha ordered her to get it up her ass.

My mind flashed back to the pain and embarrassment I felt when I was made to use
the dildos on myself. I was only performing in front of six people. I shuddered
at the thought of eighty. Thankfully I realized the dildos I had been forced to
use were smaller.

Sharon got a liberal dose of the straps and a few more slices of the cane across
her thighs. Out of shear desperation she got into a sitting position and used
her own full weight to force the dildo about half way into her ass. Despite all
her efforts it wasn't enough to satisfy Bertha or her guests. She was roughly
pulled off the table by the two assistants. As she fell to the floor, the three
sadistic women began beating her. After a few minutes Bertha called a halt.
Sharon was loudly sobbing as Bertha ordered her assistants to hold her down.
With the dildo grotesquely protruding from her, Sharon struggled as she was held
on her stomach. Then Bertha placed her foot on the end of the dildo and began to
step down. With as much force as she could muster, Bertha managed to push the
object much further into Sharon who was now screaming in pain. Finally satisfied
Bertha stopped and told the two assistants to get her to her feet. Then to
further humiliate the petite redhead she was paraded through the audience.
Totally humbled she was lead to the temporary safety of the dressing room. There
she was given a few minutes to compose herself. With the help of some Amyl
Nitrate and a mouth full of coffee she was almost ready. The two assistants then
quickly helped to fix her up and get back on stage.

Before Tina continued her recount of the night in Harlem she came over to me and
again gently examined my injuries. I was told that the swelling wasn't getting
any worse which was a good sign. It meant the Benedryl was having the desired
effect. When I again inquired about the terrible pain I was in, Tina explained
that it would last about a week. Unfortunately the combination of the Bees venom
and the beating with the hoses took a long time to heal. On the plus side I was
told that I probably would not need to see the Dr. Also, luckily Tina had a
supply of Benadryl and pain killers she would share with me. As she spoke she
placed the ice packs on my pussy and breasts again. I knew it was for my
benefit, but at the moment it only added to my pain. Despite all that, my morbid
fascination was running wild. I wanted to learn as much of my fate as possible.
I thought that in some way knowledge would help me get through the coming year.

As she made herself comfortable on the chair Tina began again. I sensed she was
coming to a part that was difficult for her to discuss. While battling with the
coffee pot she went over the scene as it was. The Rebecca was lying on a table
while a sleazy looking Oriental was fucking her. His friends were seated around
the table and had the girls arms held firmly over her head. To encourage a more
lively performance the men holding her were threatening to use their lit
cigarettes on her tits. Every few minutes a scream could be heard from the
blond. At the same time the Oriental rapist would shout his approval.

Marie had been taken to a corner and fastened into a special pair of stocks. I
was asked if I saw the stocks at the Winston house. When I replied in the
affirmative Tina said these were almost the same. She explained that having your
neck and arms secured while your ankles were spread and tied made it possible
for us to be used in any way. At that moment Maria had one man in her mouth and
another in her ass. To add further suffering the dyke guard from the prison was
using a strap on her back.

My nerves getting the best of me I stupidly commented "that sounds like fun".
Tina assured me it was anything but. She added that this was one of the devices
they used to both secure and punish us. Once in the beginning of her slavery
Tina was used at a party almost identical to the one she was now describing.
After being part of the show and having her pussy severely whipped she was put
into those very stocks. Without going into great detail she said they kept her
in them for the rest of the party. As a gesture of kindness Bertha wouldn't let
anyone touch her pussy anymore. Instead with the help of the straps, cane and
cattle prod Tina said she had to give over sixty blow jobs that night.

I gasped in shock. Before I could say anything and in an attempt to forget the
ordeal of the stocks, Tina started to describe what Sue was doing. As usual, and
in an attempt to minimize her exposure to pain Sue was being as agreeable as
possible. She was doing her very best to satisfy a group of Jamaicans. Sue was
sprawled out on the table, Her head hanging backwards off the edge. At that
moment she had one of the men buried deeply down her throat. Several others
occupied themselves with her siliconed breasts. As she kept her legs well spread
and held her own pussy open, two more men were fucking her with a beer bottle.
Finally Sharon was brought back by the two assistants.

Tina said this was not her first time playing this role. Fidgeting with her
fingers she quietly said that now her part really started. The two assistants
lead Tina to the table and pulled her down on her back. Bertha in the meantime
went to the box and took out a very large strap on dildo. She immediately helped
Sharon put it on.

To the delight of the crowd, Bertha just said "start fucking her". Tina
described how Sharon tried to be gentle but after a few hard cuts of the strap,
she began pushing harder into a dry pussy. Sharon felt the strap a few more
times but finally to save herself had Tina whimpering in pain. Then Tina
explained one of Bertha's variations. Instead of continuing to whip Sharon,
Bertha began to use the cane on Tina's unprotected stomach while yelling "tell
her to fuck you harder".

After she felt the bamboo a few times Tina said she was begging Sharon to push
it all the way in. Being raped by the dry plastic was preferable to the fiery
touch of the cane. The crowd was also getting into it. They loved seeing us
abuse each other. Finally Tina said Bertha was satisfied with this part of the
act. She ordered Sharon to step back and made her assistants bend Tina over the
edge of the table.

From what I had learned so far I could guess what was coming. With a look of
embarrassment on her face, Tina confirmed my thoughts. She described how Sharon
was mercifully allowed to cover the dildo with Vaseline. At a command from
Bertha she began forcing it into her ass.

My own thoughts raced back to Mr. Gund. who only a few hours earlier had
brutally sodomized me. When I told Tina what had happened she sadly shrugged and
said I would get used to it. With a combination of sarcasm and remorse she added
that Mr. Gund was one of the kinder things that would be put in my ass. I
immediately recalled some of the dildos and nozzles I had seen at the Drs.
office and the Winston house. At that time I didn't know that even those would
be kind compared to some of the alternatives.

"Bertha was true to form" Tina continued. "She used a new variation to make me
beg Sharon to fuck me". I was told how the two assistants were ordered to press
down on Tina's back. That crushed her tortured breasts into the table and had
her instantly screaming in pain. She was also yelling at Sharon, telling her to
push the dildo all the way in. Suddenly Tina looked right at me and said
"remember Deb, sometimes you have to agree to one thing in order to avoid
something worse. They use that philosophy often. Also remember what I said about
passing judgment. You have to learn to survive".

As she had done before Tina was instructing me while recounting her own
experiences. I was told how Sharon was made to force several other objects into
Tina. Each one being larger than the one before. Each being more painful as it
stretched delicate tissue. And each one giving Bertha and her assistants more
reasons to cause the two woman pain.

The spectacle had captured the interest of the assembled deviates. Tina knew
this part of the act was coming to an end. Regrettably for her it was the part
she hated the most. Tina depicted how Bertha began to inform the crowd that they
were in store for a special treat. Tina, from past experience knew it would take
a toll on her. Hopefully it wouldn't cause enough damage to require a trip to
Dr. Kim. I realized what I was about to hear was very difficult for Tina to talk
about. Her face was covered in tiny beads of sweat and her eyes never left the
floor. Taking a deep breath of resignation she began again. I heard how she was
made to get the Vaseline jar. Then under Bertha's direction she slowly, almost
seductively rubbed the lubricant on both of Sharon's hands and forearms. I was
confused but didn't want to interrupt her.

Tina then explained how she climbed onto the table and assumed a position on her
knees and elbows, legs spread, ass facing the audience. With an order from
Bertha Sharon stepped behind. Tina said that rather than take any unnecessary
punishment she quickly told Sharon to go ahead. I then learned what the term
"fisting" meant. I was told how after a great deal of effort on Sharon's part
she managed to get both of her hands into Tina's pussy. That had Tina moaning
and crying in pain. All the spectators were overjoyed but demanded more. Tina
said she expected what was to come next but hoped for a break. It wouldn't come
that night. She continued her story by saying "then I heard Bertha tell Sharon
to start on her ass".

All of a sudden I understood why Tina had been given the extensive douches and
enemas by Dr. Kim. I also remembered Tina telling me that some day it could be
either one of us doing each other. In spite of what had already been done to me,
and what I had seen, Tina's descriptions of her ordeal were sending shivers
through me. I listened as she explained the terrible beating Sharon and her
received. Bertha kept the two assistants busy with their straps. The black
sadistic bitch wasn't happy until screaming, Tina passed out from the pain. With
tears clearly running from her eyes, Tina looked up at me and said "Sharon had
her arm in almost to the elbow". All of a sudden Mr. Gund, the dildos and
nozzles seamed insignificant in comparison.


" A Year of Slavery Part 3-3 Tina"

It was now my turn to try and comfort Tina. Recalling only a few of her ordeals
in Harlem had upset her. Hearing them was definitely upsetting me. The groups
plan was working exactly as they had hoped. We were both being tortured,
mentally.

In an attempt to change the somber mood, I said it was getting late and I needed
something solid in my stomach. Tina quickly agreed. Heading toward the kitchen I
told Tina that there was a pot of chicken soup in the refrigerator. After all
the coffee and cigarettes, just the thought felt good. I tried to help but found
I was too weak and in too much pain. I sat, and with my guidance Tina found
everything and quickly had the table set. As we ate the conversation stayed on
family, friends and interests. Nonetheless, we were again drawn to the
irrepressible subject. I learned more of how the group manipulated Tina from the
very beginning. Using Denise they broke her very quickly. Before long the fear
of unspeakable tortures served as motivation. She summed it up by telling me to
always try and take the least painful path. She had been using that logic for
over three years. I was also reminded again to not pass judgment. Most times we
are forced into disgusting acts by threats of more torture.

I was learning fast, plus the memories of what was done to me when I disobeyed
were still fresh in my mind. I could tell she didn't want to but we were again
talking about Harlem. After passing out from the pain of being fisted, Tina
awoke in the dressing room with Sharon. Not that she was needed, but also
present was a guard from the prison.

Sarcastically Tina laughed and said "where could I go, a naked white broad
running through the streets of Harlem. I was probably better off where I was".
With Sharons help and because of the stimulants the Dr. had given her, Tina was
promptly revived and fully conscious. They were given orders by the guard to
clean themselves up, straighten their clothes and freshen their hair and
make-up.

My mind flashed back several hours, remembering the same orders being directed
at me by Goldie. I was told how after a cigarette and coffee Tina looked out to
the stage to see the big blonde from the prison. Seeing what was being done Tina
knew Sharon and her had some time to recuperate.

Still wearing the restrictive bra and girdle the blond was being strapped to an
old fashioned steel gynecological table. As her legs were secured to the
stirrups and spread she began to beg and with good reason. It seemed that this
woman's main reason for being at the shows was her ability to take a lot of pain
and keep screaming. Bertha's deviate audience relished the sights and sounds.
Tina explained how the woman begged not to be tortured. She offered to willingly
perform any kind of sex act. That suggestion having failed, she tried to bargain
with Bertha. One proposal was that she be allowed to take the Spanish womans
place in the stocks. There she would gladly accommodate anyone in anyway. Also
if it pleased Bertha she would be happy to let the two assistants use their
straps on her. As the bonds grew tighter, her offers grew more extreme.

Next came a suggestion that she be hung from the ceiling and severely whipped.
In desperation, her last offer to Bertha was that they tie her down and beat her
tits and pussy with straps or hoses. Stuttering she even mentioned the use of
the bamboo cane. Smiling down at her, Berthas only comment was "maybe later".
Tina explained that while the blond kept begging, Sharon and her were able to
see one of the assistants wheeling out a tray. Looking at me Tina said "that
woman had good reason to beg, they were going to use the oxygen on her". As the
contents of the tray was explained I put my head down and said "the Dr. used
that on me". Looking up Tina asked how. Unable to explain it any better I just
said "she used oxygen to give me an enema". Again, shaking her head Tina just
said "they really worked on you". I would soon realize that as painful as it
was, my treatment was mild in comparison to what could have been done.

In somewhat graphic detail I was told what Bertha was doing. It was a procedure
she learned from the Dr. Unfortunately everyone in the group had also been
taught. A special colon tube about six feet long was being pushed into the
blonds rectum. What made it special was that it was attached to the tip of a
Nozzle. That meant anything that went through the tube had no way out
unless the nozzle was opened or removed.

After the six feet of tube was inserted Bertha took great pleasure inflating the
two balloons of the nozzle to their maximum diameter. That alone started the
tightly bound woman whimpering. Next a speculum was roughly pushed into the
woman's pussy and opened. Kneeling to see what she was doing Bertha then pushed
a Foley catheter into the blonds cervix lodging it firmly in her womb. That
caused the blond to let out an ear piercing scream of pain and again beg not to
be tortured. When Bertha finished inflating the end of that catheter she picked
up a second. That one was forced through the womans urinary tract, into her
bladder and also inflated. Tina pointed out that in order to cause us all much
more pain, lubricant was hardly ever used during any of these tortures.

I suddenly remembered the catheter the Dr. had forced into me on my first visit
to her office. The terrible burning sensation as it went in. The excruciating
ripping feeling as it was pulled out. Worst of all was the Drs. promise to me
that many more would follow. Once the surgical tubing was in place it was
connected to a series of valves attached to an oxygen tank. By that time the
blond woman was fully aware of her fate. As if to save her strength for the
inevitable she stopped begging and crying. She just looked straight at Bertha
and said "not with the girdle on, please". My immediate reaction was to ask what
she meant.

Tina quickly explained that the girdle made it much more painful because it
wouldn't let her stomach expand. At least not until it was cut off. As if my
thoughts were written across my face Tina just said "I've had it done to me a
few times, I know. After three years with these fuckin' people there's not much
they haven't done to me". She continued by describing the hideous screams that
reverberated through the old warehouse.

Bertha was alternately filling the Blond's intestines, bladder and womb with
oxygen. The audience was loving it. It was one of their favorite sights. Seeing
a blond white woman screaming and writhing in agony. Bertha was at her best. She
mixed her skills of giving the crowd what they paid dearly to see with her own
love of inflicting pain on other woman. At a signal from Bertha the two
assistants hurriedly released the screaming woman from the table. With the tubes
grotesquely hanging from her groin, the blond was made to stand. That was
impossible. Not only was she being ripped by severe cramping, more oxygen was
still being injected into her.

Seeing her roll across the stage like a wounded, howling animal brought cheers,
laughter and calls for more from Bertha's guests. Another signal had the two
junior sadists pick the woman up and tie her wrists to a hanging rope. I was
told that this act was coming to an end. Once the screaming blonds arms were
pulled high above her head Bertha approached with a pair of long surgical
scissors. A combination of pain and the anticipation of what was next had the
unfortunate woman again begging. With fast and well practiced hands Bertha cut
the girdle away. As the poor blonds organs rapidly swelled her screaming peaked
and then abruptly stopped. Only a strange gurgle was heard as her head fell to
her heaving chest and she passed out.

To the applause and vulgar comments of the crowd she was left hanging. Now
assuming the roll of a teacher, Bertha used the ever present bamboo cane to
point out the distended stomach. She happily outlined the blue veins that
threatened to break through the severely stretched skin. She also brought
everyones attention to the fact that the woman was made to look six months
pregnant in only a few minutes. I shook my head in disbelief. What I had to look
forward to seemed to be getting worse all the time. Only three weeks before I
was a happy person. I had a good job. I had a great man in my life. I had my
whole family. Most of all with the money I embezzled I was able to buy as much
clothes, shoes, perfume and jewelry as I wanted. I had it made. Even the
operators at Home Shopping recognized my voice.

Only two weeks before I thought I would be able to get away with being caught
easily. I figured I would have to let myself be used as a whore. I would give
some blow-jobs. They would fuck me. At worst I would get ass-fucked. Nothing I
didn't do willingly many times before. Also, although it turned my stomach, I
would figure out what to do with the women. I would learn to do what had so
often been done to me by men. And finally I would handle the beatings they said
I would get. John had tied me to the bed and used one of my soft belts on me a
few times, it really wasn't that bad.

What I had endured so far and was now hearing about was something else. How
could anyone do things like this? What other horrors would I hear about? What
would be done to me in the future? How could any female be subjected to these
atrocities? How would I survive a year of this? In a pointless temper tantrum I
through some dishes across the table and began to cry hysterically.

It took quite some time, a lot of compassion and understanding from Tina, but
finally I calmed down. Without saying a word she began filling the bath.
Suddenly I was again aware of my own physical pain. The story of what was done
at Bertha's had consumed me so completely I actually forgot the pain I was in.
She gently helped me into the bathroom.

It must have been a combination of the ice packs and all the coffee we drank but
I suddenly felt the need to urinate. It was awkward with another woman present.
I inwardly smiled at my feelings. They seemed ridiculous considering what I had
just been through. Finally I dropped the robe and slowly lowered myself onto the
bowl. I screamed out as the hard surface came in contact with the welts on my
thighs and ass. Tina was holding a towel out to me and saying "you don't want to
scare the neighborhood". I immediately got the idea and covered my mouth.

Tina must have known what was about to happen because as soon as I released my
bladder I brought the towel back to my mouth as Tina held me. The pain was
unbearable. When it finally past I sat trembling and sobbing. I was told it was
normal. Unfortunately it would last a few days and was caused by having had my
pussy beaten with the hoses. When I calmed down Tina helped me stand. As I
looked in the mirror I again broke down and cried. Being an extremely vain
person I had used this same mirror thousands of times. Now I myself grimaced at
the reflection that I saw.

There were raised red welts on the front and backs of my thighs. The short tufts
of blond pubic hair did little to conceal the swollen blood red pussy lips. Nor
were they able to hide the black, blue and purple bruises that reached the
gentle swell of my belly. The belly that John loved to rest his head on as he
lovingly stroked me. Now I was crying not only from the pain but also from what
I was seeing.

Next were my breasts. They were so swollen they looked to be twice their normal
34-D size. Their entire surface was every color of the rainbow. Deep blue veins
appeared ready to burst. Small dried drops of blood marked all the spots where
the torturing needles had penetrated the delicate flesh.

But worst of all was my face. I had received quite a few smacks but they really
didn't show. What did show was a suddenly aged, beaten look. Also what showed
were the eyes, I had to look away in utter despair.

As always the hot bath and Tinas soothing touch did wonders. Temporarily I felt
better. With the robe again wrapped around me I was helped to the couch. Tina
refilled the ice-packs and placed them on the swollen areas. She reassured me
they were necessary.

Fresh coffee and more cigarettes had us talking again. Although she desperately
tried to change the topic of discussion we were quickly back to Bertha's. I
demanded to know more. Finally with a deep sigh she continued.

I was told that as the blond woman was dragged off the stage by the two
assistants, the guard in the room ordered Sharon and Tina to get ready. Just as
they were to go out for their second act, a disturbance began in the audience.
It was the Jamaicans who were amusing themselves with Sue. It seemed that they
weren't happy with her performance. They were complaining to Bertha that she was
being disrespectful and lacked enthusiasm. As I listened I had to smile. I asked
myself how any woman in that position could be enthusiastic and more ridiculous,
be respectful.

Tina described the way Bertha flew into a rage. As Sue cowered next to the table
apologizing and begging for a second chance Bertha and her two goons approached.
It was normal for us to be punished when any of the customers complained said
Tina and Sue knew she was in trouble. She continued pleading to Bertha but to no
avail. This had been done to her before and she knew the routine.

Trembling Sue stood and looked at the two menacing cattle prods being waved at
her by the assistants. Bertha then began to bark instructions. Sue was told to
undo her garter belt and pull it and her stockings to her knees. After she
reluctantly obeyed she was told to remove the push-up bra she was wearing. That
order caused her to begin sobbing as she begged Bertha not to hit her tits. Her
pleas were futile and only served to arouse the Jamaicans who were watching. She
was then made to lay across the table on her back as Bertha asked the men to
hold her arms and legs.

As the usually submissive Jewish American princess cried and begged, Bertha took
aim with her lethal cane. It took all the men at the table to hold Sue as Bertha
began delivering vicious strokes to each of Sue's tender thighs. The cane was
then directed at the screaming woman's stomach. To make the caning more
effective and be sure Sue didn't pass out one of the assistants kept a vial of
smelling salts under her nose the whole time.

Bertha was an expert when it came to torturing another woman. She knew exactly
what would cause the most pain. Before she moved to Sue's chest she let the tip
of the cane find the womans soft pubic mound. More men were needed to hold the
thrashing, screaming brunette. Then the sadistic black woman directed her
attention at Sue's large silicone filled tits.

First she began to gently caress them. Then she started to knead then as if they
were twin mounds of dough. As this was being done the smelling salts were
clearing Sue's pain shrouded brain for what was to come next.

At a signal from Bertha her other assistant moved near Sue's head and firmly
gripped both nipples. The junior sadist then pulled them up toward the ceiling
exposing the sensitive undersides of both breasts. That showed a great deal of
confidence in Bertha who instantly lashed out with the cane barely missing her
assistants fingers. When it was over Sue laid unconscious with almost a dozen
angry red welts on the bottom of her breasts. But Bertha wasn't through yet.
Tina then described what happened next. I was told how Bertha decided to
continue making an example of Sue. She did this for several reasons. One was to
satisfy the Jamaican's and boost their egos. Second, it made for a good show and
kept the customers coming back. Third was that the sadistic black bitch just
loved to hurt white women.

Sue was carried to the room where Tina and Sharon waited. Bertha followed and
quickly took a syringe from a small cabinet. Tina explained that it contained a
powerful stimulant that was prepared by Dr. Kim. It was a mixture that was often
used to help us endure even more punishment. As Bertha injected it into Sue,
Tina said that Sharon and her were ordered to go out and start entertaining the
men. Tina herself was told to stay with the Jamaicans and see to it that they
were happy or else she would get the same treatment Sue did.

I looked across the room at Tina with a expression of sympathy on my face. She
acknowledged it by saying that oddly enough she was relieved by Bertha's
command. It meant that Sharon and her would not be the next part of the show.
Sue would be made to do it instead. With her yes staring at a blank wall Tina
quietly said that she went to the table where Sue had been. The Jamaicans
immediately began to ravish her exaggerated chest while also forcing her to
begin sucking and fucking.

It was extremely difficult for me to comprehend what she meant by relieved. As
Tina continued recounting her ordeal in Harlem I would understand.

When the stimulant took affect and Sue was cleaned up and redressed she was lead
back to the stage. As the Jewish princess promised to do better Bertha began her
tirade. She was reprimanding Sue for insulting some of her most valuable
customers. She also went on about how she had been embarrassed. The crowd was
enjoying the verbal abuse Bertha was giving the trembling brunette. Suddenly
Bertha's yelling stopped. She stared at Sue and just loud enough for everyone to
hear said "you white trash, if you can't please my guests, maybe you can make
the dogs happy".

Tina described how the color instantly drained from Sue's face. At the same time
I felt myself grow pale. Sue gasped in shock and began to beg Bertha for another
chance. Desperately she promised to make amends for her poor performance. She
offered to do almost anything rather than be with animals. As a last resort she
even suggested staying with Bertha for the weekend.

Again I was puzzled. It was becoming routine, but Tina realized it also. She
added that to stay alone with Bertha and her girls was always extremely painful
and usually very dangerous. Most occasions resulted in a stay at Dr. Kim's. She
intentionally dropped the subject by saying "I've done it, I know".

It was getting late in the afternoon. As much as I tried to fight, the events of
the preceeding night were taking their toll. I was still in considerable pain
and also very nervous. That was due to what I had been through and what I was
being told. Also was the fact that I had been ordered to work the following
morning. The last thing I possibly wanted was to disobey the Winstons in any
way. My curiosity was running rampant. I wanted Tina to tell me everything that
happened to her. I truly felt that by knowing what I was up against I would be
able to find a way out. Unfortunately fatigue was winning.

I told Tina who just commented that it was about time. She immediately went into
the bedroom to undo the bed. Then she helped me up and slowly walked me to my
room. I let the robe fall to the floor as I literally collapsed in the apparent
safety and comfort of my bed. I didn't know it then but the future would prove
that feeling to be a myth.

Tina brought the ice packs, water, some pain killers and more anti histamines.
She was a godsend in the way she helped and cared for me. When I was as
comfortable as possible she left the room. She was back in a second with an
overnight bag. I guess in the confusion I had never noticed it. I immediately
realized that she was going to stay the night. I was instantly both thankful and
concerned. There was only one queen sized bed and I had never slept with a
woman.

Before I could say anything Tina put the small case on the dresser, turned and
began removing her dress. Until that very minute I hadn't picked up on the fact
that Tina was very nicely dressed. She was wearing a green knit dress with dark
stockings and pretty green five inch pumps. As she removed her dress I was
shocked by her lingerie. It was very similar to what I was forced to wear only
hours before.

Tina stood there wearing a black half cup bra, a heavy black waist cincher with
long garters, shoes and stockings. It was far from what would be considered
normal underwear. Also very noticeable was the fact that she wasn't wearing any
panties and had a clean shaven pussy. I remember staring in awe at what I
considered a truly bizarre sight.

Tina caught my puzzled look. Before I could say anything Tina kind of smiled and
said let me explain. First she said "they want us to be clean shaven from the
neck down. Toward the end of the week when you feel better Mrs. Winston wants me
to take you to be shaved". I immediately remembered the Dr. grabbing a handful
of my pubic hair as she examined me saying this will have to go. Again I tried
to speak but before I could get a word out, Tina continued.

She Explained that we were only allowed to wear underwear that they approved of.
Anything we did wear had to be bought from a shop in the village they sent us
to. I was also told that some special items would be made for me after I was
measured and fitted. Sullenly she added that we would be going to the lingerie
shop when she took me to be shaved. She made a point of telling me to never wear
panties or pantyhose, I would get punished if I did. As Tina took off her bra I
gasped in horror. Her very ample breasts were not only black and blue, they were
criss-crossed by thin white scars. Unmoved by my reaction she undid the cincher.
Again I gasped as more bruises and scars came into view. Tina remained silent
and avoided my gaze. She just rolled down her stockings and put them with the
rest of her clothes. Reaching into her case she took out an oversize tee shirt
and put it on. Quickly and quietly she went to the other side of my bed and
climbed in.

I was about to ask more questions but was interrupted. In a voice that sounded
very shaky she said "good night, If you need anything, wake me". I remember
little else as the fatigue, emotional drain and pain killers took immediate
effect.

I awoke to the smell of coffee brewing. It took me a few minutes to clear the
drugs from my brain. After doing so, my first instinct was to touch my chest and
pussy. The pain was still intense and it seemed that I was even more swollen
than I was yesterday. As I heard Tina in the kitchen the memories of what I had
seen and been told came crashing back. Quietly I laid there staring at the
ceiling, within seconds I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Again Tina came to the rescue. Carrying a big mug of coffee She came in and
asked how I felt. Between sobs I jokingly said "I feel like someone beat the
shit out of me", we both laughed. That was the first and only time we did laugh
for the rest of the day. As Tina pulled my covers to the side she told me I had
a few nightmares but didn't wake up. Examining my injuries she said I had time
for some ice before I got up. It took only seconds for her to prepare the ice
packs and place them on my tits and pussy.

There it was, six a.m. Monday morning, a new day and the start of a new week. I
was still in severe pain. Was this the way my life would be from now on?
Recalling the sight of Tina's body I could foresee nothing less.

We sat silently sipping the coffee and smoking. After about fifteen minutes Tina
said I should get up and prepare for work. I agreed, fearing the consequence of
being late. As Tina helped me to the bathroom she reminded me that Jimmy the
chauffeur would be here at eight o'clock. As I shamelessly sat on the bowl I
inquired why so early.

As my whole groin was engulfed in pain due to normal bodily functions, she
answered. I was reminded about the price of Jimmys kindness. He helped her get
me home yesterday and she asked him to pick us up this morning. Now she had to
pay for that service. Again Tina suggested I too get on his good side in case I
needed his help. Before I was able to comprehend what I had just been told Tina
helped me into the shower. I had to shield myself from the pounding water but I
must admit the warmth felt good.

It was really the first time I was able to thoroughly wash. Unfortunately I
wasn't able to scrub the filth of their acts away. I used the shower massage to
give myself a makeshift douche and enema, I made a mental note to be more
thorough later. Before I shut the water Tina called out "leave it on". As I
climbed out she just stepped in and began to wash.

We were both done showering before seven. It was very strange to have another
person in the house getting dressed with me, especially a woman. I usually do my
make-up at the kitchen table. Tina commented about how strange that was but got
her cosmetics and followed suit. I wore a robe and she was wrapped in a bath
towel as we sat there. I couldn't help but notice more thin white scars at the
top of her chest. As much as I tried it was impossible to remain silent. Finally
I began to ask more questions.

Firmly Tina evaded my inquiries by just saying "we'll have plenty of time to
talk later, lets not get ourselves upset now". She was absolutely correct. When
we were both done with our hair and make-up Tina went to her overnight case,
took out a bag and handed it to me. She just said "Mrs. Winston wants you to
wear this". With shaking hands I opened it finding articles of underwear. There
was a white old fashioned heavily constructed bra and garter belt with dark
stockings. As I stared at the small pile dumbfounded, Tina was taking a thick
white one piece bra and girdle from the case. It took me a few seconds but I
finally said "they don't really expect us to wear this stuff, do they"? Her
answer was brief and to the point. "You better, everyday" she said.

The bra I was given would have been a perfect fit if I wasn't swollen from the
injections. Tina helped me get it on as tears filled my eyes. Although safe in
my apartment the group still managed to cause me pain. How could I last the day
I wondered. The garter and stockings weren't too bad. Tina suggested I wear a
dress that was easy to get out of and heels. The implications of her suggestion
went right over my head.

I watched as she struggled into her one-piece. It was old fashioned and strange
looking but I had to admit, it made her look good. The timing was perfect. As we
both finished hooking our stockings, there was a knock at the door. It was eight
o'clock. Tina just turned away from me saying "don't worry I'll handle it". She
went to the door as I reached for my robe. Looking back at me she said "leave it
off". I knew by her tone she meant it.

Jimmy entered with a big friendly good morning as his eyes feasted on us. I felt
like I would vomit and almost told him to go fuck himself.

As he looked me up and down his tone changed turning gentle. Shaking his head he
said "they really worked on you, will you be all right, can I get you anything".
I was caught off guard, all I could say was "no thank You". To my further
surprise Tina handed him a cup of coffee. He took it and sat down with us as if
it were the most normal thing in the world.

After a few minutes Tina politely said to him "come on, lets go in the bedroom".
As they walked away I heard him ask about me. Tina answered that I was really in
bad shape but promised that I would be glad to next time.

I felt strangely embarrassed as I listened to the sounds of Tina giving him a
blow job. I myself had made those same sounds many times with John. Over the
course of our years together he had even admitted that I had gotten quite good.
I never thought my talents would be used as barter for a ride. When Tina
finished Jimmy went downstairs to wait.

After she rinsed her mouth and reapplied the smeared lipstick she put on a navy
blue button down dress. She acted as though nothing happened and I was too
astonished to say a word. Taking her advise but not knowing why, I chose a long
black skirt and black cardigan sweater. Putting on our coats and turning
everything off we went down to the waiting limo. It was very difficult for me to
make it down the steep stairs. I wondered how I would survive the day. Hitting
the cold morning air made me realize that I was running a fever. When we got
into the limo I told Tina how badly I felt. Her response was warning me about
complaining too much. It could get me sent to Dr. Kim.

Within fifteen minutes we were in front of the busy Manhattan offices of Mr.
Winston. It was almost time for work. Once upstairs the office took on a whole
new light. Fear and embarrassment made it different. Tina and I both got coffee
and went to our respective areas. She was in an office down the hall and I was
next door to Mr. Winston.

I tried desperately to do some work. I thought it would help get my mind off the
way I felt. No matter how much I tried I was unable to focus on anything but my
situation. Just then Mr. Winston arrived.

To my astonishment he looked at me and said good morning as if nothing had
changed. He even had the audacity to ask me if I enjoyed my weekend as he passed
en-route to his office. I sat silently, unable to say a word. For the next two
hours I fumbled through my normal routine.

Whoever I spoke to asked if I was all right. The few co-workers who saw me were
extremely concerned about my health. I tried my best to blame it on a terrible
virus that I caught on Friday. The excuse seemed to be working. Tina called
several times to see how I was doing and to offer moral support. I didn't lie to
her. I said I wouldn't be able to make it through the day. The pain was getting
worse all the time and I was burning with a fever. As I was in the middle of the
sentence Mrs. Winston and Goldie walked into the office. I dropped the phone in
shock. For the next few minutes I sat in horror wondering what would happen
next. I didn't have long to wait. My phone rang and Mr. Winston summoned me into
his office. Trembling and gasping for breath I opened the door. Mr. Winston sat
behind his desk as Mrs. Winston and Goldie sat casually on a sofa. I stood in
the doorway shaking, afraid to walk in.

In the same horrible sarcastic tone I heard Saturday night, Mrs. Winston said
"get in here bitch". I quickly did as I was told. As I stumbled to the center of
the room the trio began to speak. They were talking as if I was an object and
not a person. I heard them say things like. I guess the cunt survived. The bitch
don't look that bad. The cunt could have taken more. The bitch is stronger than
we thought. The Dr. was right. Wait till next month. Wait until we tell the
others.

Hearing these comments I began to sob. Finally I was able to look at them and
say "please no more, I beg you". That brought only hearty laughter. Mrs. Winston
was the first to speak directly to me.

Approaching me she said "first bitch I'll teach you how to stand at attention".
I was ordered to clasp my fingers together behind my neck. Using the tip of her
shoe Mrs. Winston kicked my ankles until I stood with my feet well spread. I was
told to always stand straight with my shoulders back. As soon as I followed her
direction I felt the increased tension in my injured breasts. Seeing the pain on
my face made her smile and say "they still hurt, good".

With that she reached out and began to feel my throbbing tits. When I started to
move my hands down to protect myself Mrs. Winston screamed at me to stand still.
Goldie immediately came to her side as if she needed help. The vicious woman
kept squeezing me until I was sobbing loudly. With a big smile I was told I
could make all the noise I wanted, the office was completely soundproofed. At
last she stopped. Turning to Mr. Winston she said "call the other bitch in".
Within seconds Tina was standing next to me in the same position as I. Suddenly
I saw this woman who had instantly become my friend and ally in a totally
subservient role. As we were both questioned by Mrs. Winston I saw how much Tina
feared the woman.

I was asked how I felt and if I needed medical attention. Tina was asked what we
discussed. I was told I had a lot to learn and Tina was given the responsibility
of teaching me. The verbal assault continued. When she was done with her
questions and commands Mrs. Winston calmly but firmly ordered me to strip.

Although embarrassed and mortified at the thought of again being nude in the
office I instantly obeyed. The memories of what happened when I didn't do as I
was told were still very fresh in my mind. My fingers raced to the buttons of
the sweater I had been advised to wear. Now the reason why became apparent.

Letting the garment fall to the floor I reached for the skirt but was stopped.
As I stood in the bra I was given I was ordered to put my hands back behind my
neck. The three of them began to study my confined breasts. Mrs. Winston, with
her contemptuous voice asked if I liked my new underwear and if it fit well.
Finding it difficult to speak I shook my head no.

The probing and squeezing continued, only this time by all of them. It hurt
terribly and I was openly crying. Goldie was by far the worst. She took great
pleasure in causing me pain. She was after all punishing me for my bigotry.
Suddenly I was ordered to remove the bra. As it came loose I felt instant
relief. That feeling didn't last long. I was closely and painfully examined. The
bees venom was still active and I was still very swollen and sore. Using sharp
fingernails and the tips of pens as pointers, every painful mark and bruise was
studied. They all approved of the condition of my chest and happily agreed that
I could take much more tit torture.

That phrase and Tina's stories hit me with the same severity as one of their
whips. Mrs. Winston then directed me to remove my skirt and lay down on the
conference table. I instantly obeyed even though I was mortified by the thought.
I had often sat at this table during important meetings. Instantly they began
treating my pussy in a manner similar to my tits. Pushing my legs obscenely
wide, they squeezed and probed. I cried. Finally I was told to stand while they
traced all the welts left by the whips and canes. Leaving me they turned their
attention to Tina.


She was told to remove her dress. As she stood in the one piece bra and girdle
Mrs. Winston again started to speak. She asked Tina if she explained their rules
concerning underwear. Tina replied that she had started to. Looking toward me
Mrs. Winston said that toward the end of the week I would have to go with Tina
to be fitted for some special garments. With her sarcastic smile she emphasized
that my punishment bras would be included. Pantyhose or panties were never to be
worn. I would be subject to inspection at any time. The only time I was allowed
to go without underwear was when I was home. In a loud rough voice she asked "do
you understand bitch". Again directing her question at Tina she asked if I was
told about Dorothea. Tina answered nervously that she didn't get to it. Mrs.
Winston just smiled and said "I'll deal with that in a minute". Standing
directly in front of me she began to explain Dorothea's purpose.

Dorothea was Goldies aunt. She lived in a tenement on the lower east side of
Manhattan with her retarded son Bobby. She was a retired nurse who attended to
things that Dr. Kim couldn't be bothered with. Among those jobs would be the
complete removal of my pubic hair. I was also told that since I had been unable
to give myself the douches and enemas as I was ordered, in the future I would be
sent to Dorothea to have it done for me. That same type of cleaning would also
take place anytime I was used sexually.

After thinking a few minutes Mrs. Winston turned toward Tina. She said "I think
when your done in the village Thursday night you should go right to Dorothea's
so she can shave this bitch", pointing at me. "While you're there have her give
you a thorough cleaning just so she can watch," again indicating me. "That way
she can see what she has to look forward to". I saw that Tina was getting
nervous.

Not nearly finished with her verbal torture session Mrs. Winston continued. Tina
was asked when she was going to visit her daughter and see the wardress. Without
waiting for a reply Mrs. Winston just said "let her go with you, it should be
very educational", again looking at me. Then Tina was reminded that the
following week was her scheduled check-up. Sarcastically, Tina was told to take
me there also, again so I could watch and learn.

Mr. Winston mercifully interrupted stating he had an appointment coming in
twenty minutes. Unfortunately Mrs. Winston wasn't quite through. Turning back to
Tina She said "you did not follow my instructions. I told you what I wanted
explained to this bitch".

I watched as an expression of fear raced over Tina's face. She suddenly began to
twist and pull at her fingers. At a signal from Mrs. Winston Goldie pushed a
bookcase aside revealing a hidden alcove. I stared at the contents in shock.
Concealed inside were some of the same instruments I had been shown in the
dungeon of the Winston house. Tina watched as Goldie took something from a
shelf.

When the maid turned revealing a small black box with a lot of dangling wires
Tina became extremely agitated. Stuttering and retreating toward the door she
pleaded With Mrs. Winston not to use that on her, at least not here and now. As
Goldie placed the device on the conference table Mrs. Winston spoke. Tina was
simply told that she was going to be punished for her disobedience and to show
me what would happen to me when I didn't do as I was told. The two woman
exchanged words with Tina arguing that the punishment was too severe. Somewhat
amused Mrs. Winston answered, saying that Tina had no choice and knew better
than to argue.

In a vain attempt to change her tormenters mind Tina offered an alternative. To
my surprise she boldly said, "why don't you have Goldie whip my tits and pussy
with the strap. You don't even have to tie me. I'll lay on the table and hold my
legs open". In reply Mrs. Winston maliciously said "I do enjoy that, but not
this time. Start putting the leads on before I make you come to the house and I
use the big machine".

Visibly shaken Tina began to unwrap the wires as Goldie placed other things on
the table. One was a short thick rubber dildo. Second was a metal cylinder about
the size of a frankfurter. Last was a tube of K-Y. As Tina screwed one of the
wires into the cylinder she turned toward Mrs. Winston and said "should I
undress madam". The reply was "just pull your tits out, we don't have all day".

I watched in astonishment as Tina slid the bra straps over her shoulders and
pulled the cups down. Without any further hesitation Tina spread a liberal
amount of the K-Y on each nipple. Next she picked up a wire that ended in a
metal clip. As we all watched Tina opened the clip with her fingers, brought it
to her nipple, and gingerly relaxed her grip. I saw her grimace as she reached
for an identical wire and repeated the process on her other nipple.

With the wires dangling obscenely from her chest Tina began coating the metal
cylinder with K-Y. Seemingly oblivious to her surroundings or the people
watching her, Tina squatted and pushed the cylinder into her pussy. When she was
done she turned toward Mrs. Winston. As the sadistic woman took a seat next to
her husband she said "set it to medium for twenty seconds and get on the table.
If you pull any leads off or get up we'll make it thirty seconds on high and
start again".

Tears were running down Tina's cheeks as she turned some dials on the box. As
she slowly began to lie down on the cold hard wood she put the rubber dildo into
her mouth. Our eyes met as I watched her sink her teeth into it. I could see she
was terrified. Naked and in pain I stood mesmerized. I was witnessing the
torture of a fellow employee in the office we worked in. I thought of protesting
but realized it could just as easily be me. I wasn't quite sure what was going
to happen but my instincts and personal experience told me that Tina was going
to suffer badly. As everyone watched Mrs. Winston flipped a switch on the box.
In an instant I saw my friends body begin to shudder and convulse.

She was emitting sounds that were more animal like than human. Her eyes bulged
in their sockets. I watched Tina's body twist into inhuman contortions. She
thrashed around the table for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally the buzzing
of the box stopped.

Tina spit out the gag and began gasping for breath. She was bathed in sweat and
saliva drooled from her mouth. Her nose was bleeding and there were small pools
of urine near her crotch. We all watched for several minutes as Tina tried
desperately to recover.

Mrs. Winston was the first to speak. I was told to remember what I had just
witnessed. The same could easily be done to me. Tina was told to get up and
clean the mess she had made of the table. She was also told to consider herself
lucky. If they weren't in a hurry she would have been made to lick the table
clean.

White as a ghost Tina tried to stand holding the table for support. Goldie
handed her a wet towel so she could wipe her face. Then, instantly obeying Mrs.
Winston, Tina began to remove the clips from her nipples. The sharp teeth left
tiny drops of blood. Also the nipples appeared to be twice their normal size.
Then moaning loudly she pulled the dildo out of her pussy.

As Goldie put back the instruments of Tina's torture, I helped my friend clean
the table. Mr. Winston's office was now back to normal and he was ready for his
next client.

Tina and I were both helped into an adjoining bedroom which I never knew
existed. Mrs. Winston made herself comfortable while Goldie poured coffee. Tina
struggled into the bathroom as I went to my knees near the bed. The high fever I
was running coupled with the events of the the past forty eight hours caught up
with me.

About twenty minutes later Tina came out of the bathroom fully dressed.
Miraculously she almost looked like nothing happened to her. Again she began
helping me. When I was dressed and on my feet Mrs. Winston looked at us and with
a big smirk on her face said "take the rest of the day off, you both look like
shit".

Continued In

"A Year Of Slavery" # 3-4ÿ

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