THE ESCORT

A multi Chapter Story

       Signing with an exclusive escort service, almost immediately afterwards offered an extended three month tour arranged for cruise ships specializing in wealthy clients in the Middle East, Amy eagerly accepts… With visions of wealth in her head.   Transportation arranged as part of the initial agreement binding her to the contract, immediately upon arrival her unexpectedly short, harried training regiment takes on a darker, sinister cast as she’s forced the first couple of days to observe other girls performing duties that will also soon be expected of her, and what happens if performance isn’t acceptable.

       To her shock, she realizes too late that her employment’s actually rather far reaching.  Not just escorting, nor even occasional consensual sex, not even something bordering on kinky, it dwells seriously into the white slavery market and more, into hardcore Sadomasochism.  A slyly added second page she haphazardly signed, shuffled in with a multitude of mundane releases and agreements involving her tour when she initially arrived onboard has made her commitment not just an agreement but more of an iron clad contract, and legally signed in  that jurisdiction.  The contents virtually cast her in the least as a subservient sex slave to the company, to function as a source of pleasure at the discretion of the passengers and crew of the exclusive liner.

       The conditions of the contract legally binding both civilly and criminally in that corner of the world, not only is she committed for the three month series of cruises, but the fine print allows the contract to roll over virtually indefinitely, based on one’s performance evaluations, as determined by the employer.  Any arbitration as to the contents of the contract is also binding as final, with the judgment the sole discretion of the parent company.

       The wide guidelines of the one sided contract even includes a long list of rules to be strictly adhered to.  One, an appendage for a dress code, extends to agreeing to be naked at any given time at the company’s pleasure.  Another appendage involving discipline allows a wide range of punishments at the company’s discretion to correct any unsatisfactory performances.   From monetary fines that can amount to more then one’s actual salary, it ranges to include the corporal use of the cane for even minor offences.  More severe offences allow for actual imprisonment, and even up to a series of torturous discipline sessions.  Summed up, basically, her body’s no longer hers during the course of her open ended employment as a submissive sex slave, and worse.

Chapter One…  Auctioned

       Training sessions completed, prepared and placed on display, Amy stands toward the center of several other young women, the position always reserved for the cream of the crop.  Positioned across the narrow ledge in front of the ship’s railing overlooking the top deck from a walkway, they’re all nude.  Of multi nationalities, the women are all fresh employees of the same world wide agency that hired her.  Awaiting her first turn at being auctioned, besides five inch, white patent leather stiletto heels, she’s virtually naked with just a double looped white strand of pearls around her neck and a pair of white laced fingerless gloves exposing the bright red nail polish on her manicured fingers.

       Apprehensively staring out from above the milling crowd of onlookers through her sky blue eyes, she strikes the pose she’s been forced to exhaustedly rehearse over and over.  Make up impeccable, her brushed out highlighted blondish hair cascades down just below her arched back shoulders, the snipped even ends fluttering across the outer curves of her widely spread, thrust out breasts.  The puffy mounds of her silver dollar sized areolas, just a couple shades darker then the rest of her evenly tanned naked body, stand straight out like bullets from her melon sized symmetrical globes, the nubs of her nipples thick and hard.

       Glancing out above the crowd of mostly Arabic, Middle Easterners, most with headdresses, fabrics, turbans blocking the rays of the scorching sun, she realizes the warmth across her bare flesh is rapidly spreading as she’s forced to await her turn.  Her right breast jaunting outward a tad further then her left as her torso slightly twists, the taut side of her waist curves inward above her left hip as her buttocks thrusts seductively back.  The brilliant light of the high Arabian Sea sun shining down from the clear blue cloudless sky reflects off the upper curves of her reddening breasts, casting shadows from just beneath her hardened nipples, leaving her unblemished bare flesh beneath her quivering melons in the shade, highlighting the indentations of her upper ribcage.

       The dark, oval indentation of the hollow of her bellybutton’s surrounded by the very faintest of; almost silky traces of fine delicate hair just above her evenly shortly trimmed pubic hair.  Forming a perfect ‘V’ on her pubic mound leading toward the couple inch wide slit separating her athletic thighs; the cropped patch covers to just above the twin puffy folds of her bare labia.  As her flattened stomach slopes, gently flexing with each breath, she holds her head upward, her chin barely quivering as her jaw remains firm.

       Sensing the auctioneer pacing along the other side of the ship’s white railings stepping closer, reaching back with her left hand, she nervously grips one of the lower rails.  Having been exposed to the process of the program a couple times already, been forced to observe the auctions during the course of her initial training, her nightmare’s even more humiliating, degrading then she could have imagined.  The rules of the auction are few and plain enough to understand for the auctioned participants.  The first, to stare straight ahead, make no eye contact with any of the other participants regardless of the situation.  Second, do exactly as ordered, without hesitation, no matter the pain or humiliation, and respond with an assertive ‘Sir’ after every demand.  Again, the rules are simple, but she already knows all to well that any deviation is handled in the severest of manners.

       A couple quick auctions already completed, her eyes remain forward as he approaches the girl to her left.  “Push those titties out further then that girly!”  She hears him addressing the young, reddish haired woman next to her, sternly whispering in his broken but understandable English as he cups the mike in the palm of his hand.  “Show ‘em off good and proper while they bid!... And spread that pussy some more too, understand?”

       Obediently nodding while automatically thrusting her chest even further outward, the obviously nervous woman faintly moves her lips as she continues holding her head straight forward while noticeably squatting, parting her thighs just a smidgeon more.  Quickly glancing back through the corner of her eye, she whispers.  “Yes… Yes Sir!... I understand Sir!

       Giving an approving nod, glancing over the group collecting several feet below her, he taps the mike.  “Okay!”  Again with his accent he addresses the intent onlookers mixed with bidders.  “Here’s one I know you’ve been waiting for… She’s been up here a few times already!...  From the UK… By all accounts, she performs admiringly… As expected since she’s learned the rules the hard way.”  Glancing over the girl’s shoulder, grabbing across her left shoulder, he grips her left breast toward its base, giving a firm squeeze.

       Continuing to appear stoic, obviously having learned the consequences of even the slightest of indiscretions, she continues staring straight forward above the group as his fingernails dig into the firm flesh of her swelling globe.  His hand tugging, she follows as she allows her breast to be twisted out from her chest, her nipple bulging between his fingers and thumb as he harshly twists. Unable to resist, Amy quickly glances over from the corner of her eye, barely catching a glimpse of the girl’s bare breast for just an instant, the faint whip marks still visible from a corrections session.

       “This cunt likes it rough!... Don’t you cunt?”  He rasps through the mike as he gives another twist of his hand while leaning over her shoulder.  “I said… Don’t you like it rough… even when you’re being fucked, huh?”

       Her eyes noticeably watering, she jerks her head harshly in the affirmative as the mike’s slipped under her chin, her breast bulging under his tightening grip.  “Yes… Yes Sir… I… I like it rough… Sir!”

       Twisting harder, forcing her to arch backwards as her breast’s stretched, he grunts in her ear.  “What?... What’s that you answered, bitch?”

       Biting her lip, her breast twisting between his thick fingers and thumbnail, in an obviously painful voice she realizes her mistake as she whines.  “I… I said… I said this cunt… This cunt likes it rough when she’s fucked… Sir!”

       “Yes… That’s what I thought!”  He rasps over the mike with a sadistic smile as he glances over the onlookers.  “She likes it rough!”  Releasing her breast, cupping the mike in both hands, he glances from one side of the group to the other.  “Okay… Let’s start the bidding for her companionship until tomorrow… What’s my bid to start it?”

       Knowing her turn’s next, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, above the collecting group of dark skinned men in mixed garb, gathering, gawking up toward her nude body from a few feet below, she tries to block the sounds of the insults, of the degrading manipulations of the girl’s naked body next to her.  Continuing to grip the rail with her left hand, she awaits her turn as the bartering after just a few animated bids winds down, all too quickly ends.

       “Okay… Amy, your turn!”  She hears his dreaded whisper in her left ear as he leans toward the rail, slides his hand across her left hand gripping the rail.  “Grab the rail with your other hand behind you… Push those titties out for the bidders… Lean out over them… I need you to make me some money!”

       Feeling the warmth spreading across her face, not just from the heat of the sun, she realizes all the attentions now on her as she obeys.  Gripping the other side of the rail and leaning forward, she catches a glimpse of the girl just auctioned off being lifted across the same rail and led away.  Again staring forward as her shoulders thrust back, her breasts jaunt outward from her chest as her abs ripple with each slow breath, the pit of her stomach rumbling.

       “Spread… Show that pussy, girl!”  She hears his broken English in her ear, smells the sour, garlic odor of his breath across her neck.

       Sliding her stilettos apart, her ankles scrapping across the bottom rail, her breasts bounce, sway as she continues to stare forward, still catching the swarming group below her as they attempt to position themselves for their best views of her naked body, especially between her spread thighs and thrust out breasts.

       “This is Amy… A blond American slut!... Her first time up here.”  She hears his voice, the echo of the microphone.  “Big titties, tight pussy… Loves to fuck… Huh, Amy?”

       Feeling the microphone slipped across the top of her chest, up toward her mouth, she glances down toward it.  Feeling his hand groping her right butt cheek, painfully pinching the bare flesh, she squeals through her embarrassment.

       “Oomph!...  Yes… I… I like to fuck…… Sir!”  She humiliatingly answers, barely remembering to say ‘Sir’ as her naked body arches above the crowd, the lewd comments rippling through the group as her face turns a deeper shade of red.

       “Okay… What’s the bid?… Remember, this is her first time with us as an escort… You get to break her in!”  She hears the echo of the speakers around the deck, his voice auctioning her off as even more men press beneath her.  “Shake those titties… Make ‘em dance for the bidders!”  Again the surreal orders resonate from his voice rasping right next to her ear, to the delayed echoes of the speakers around the deck.

       Feeling her hands being gripped, slid closer together behind her, her shoulders bowing even further back, she begins twisting her torso, swaying her firm breasts gently back and forth above the enthralled onlookers.  Her nipples jiggling out from her glistening perspiring melons under the noon day sun, she can feel the stinging burn of her nude flesh, even with the all over built up tan already accumulated in advance.

       “Thrust that pussy out, flex your hips… Give ‘em a nice enticing dance, or your tits will be raw from the lash later, girl!”  She hears his sinister threat.  Having witnessed discipline sessions on other girls as part of her training, heart pounding, she immediately obeys as she blocks out the crowd below her, stares transfixed toward the barely discernable open sea meeting the high blue sky on the horizon.

       Hips gyrating, breasts swaying, her nude body erotically flexes above the group as she feels her hair gently fluttering in the breeze across her shoulders, its ruffled tips brushing across her shimmering nipples.  Letting her mouth part, eyes squint, she glides her tongue across her dry lips, moistening them with the flicking tip as she forces herself to show enthusiasm, again fearing the unacceptable consequences as she does a scaled down impromptu version of a pole dance from her wet t-shirt days.

       “What’s my bid?... What’s my bid for this fuckmeat?… For the pleasure of her orifices… For the privilege of using any part of her for your deepest desires.”  His voice rasps across the deck as the multiple bids ring out in Arabic, English, and a couple other languages as her forced alluring display continues to mount.  “What’s my bid for this American sex slave?... To have… Control… Use as you wish?”

       The bidding spreading, animated, it continues to heat up as the auctioneer probes her hips with his thumb, rasps in her ear as her sweating body continues to contort dangerously close to the edge of the ledge.  “Keep doing that… Entice them girl!... Make them want you even more!”  Glancing over the intrigued group, sensing the chance for a big payday as her naked body glistens as it slowly but seductively contorts under the hot sun, he blurts through the mike.  “Corporal punishment!... The highest bidder will be allowed to let her bare butt taste the crop by your own hand!”  Leaning, whispering toward her ear he orders.  “Twist girl… Show that ass and wiggle it out there for them all to see!”  Turning, twisting her head sideways as she again grips the rail, she follows his orders, her legs spread, her hips flexing as she slowly squats.

       The constant buzz of the group expands as the vocal bids instantly mount appreciatively, even as fewer players remain.  Reaching a crescendo, he palms the mike, rasps beside her ear. “You can be proud, girl… This is already one of the highest bids ever… Especially for a new whore!... Keep moving!... Today, you make me wealthy!”

       Several more rapidly escalating bids and it becomes obvious the auction has narrowed down to two wealthy bidders, both dark robed and turbaned… And relentless.  The auctioneer places his hand on Amy’s shoulder, smiles as he whispers while he leans toward the rail.  “Stop… Stop, hold still, girl, today’s my fortunate day!”  Glancing from one to the other, recognizing both as high rollers, he motions them forward.  The crowd parting between them, he awaits their presence directly below and in front of her quivering body.

       “For a whole week… Not just today… She’s yours…  To the highest bidder… But, it must be generous!”  He excitedly rasps down toward the pair as he cups his free hand across the damp flesh of her firm left breast, bouncing it playfully up and down.  “To do with as you please sexually… And more!”  He continues as he almost gently backhands her across her breast, flattening her engorged nipple.  “Now, who really wants this American to do with as he pleases?... Which one of you?””

       Silence spreads across the deck as the crowd’s caught up in the moment.  The pair of men glances toward one another, toward Amy’s glistening, naked body above them as she now stands motionless after turning back around, now at the end of the row of the remaining other naked girls, all silently staring straight ahead.  Hesitantly contemplating their upcoming offers, the auctioneer glances from one to the other.

       Dropping the mike, reaching around and gripping, melding Amy’s breasts, he adds.  “For the right price these are yours to use and abuse as you wish… Your imagination and manual guidelines virtually your only boundary!” 

       Franticly listening, unable to block the thoughts of the dire consequences of the heightening stakes, she fears the severity of her predicament, practically ignoring her bare breasts being manipulated as she twists naked above the crowded deck, also disregarding the many eyes of the other men focused on her.  Glancing down toward the pair of bidders, talking, nodding, spreading their hands from their sleeved robes as they barter, Amy feels herself being pulled backward toward the rail by her gripped breasts, her back bowing across the hard curved metal.

       “You’ve served your purpose already!”  He whispers hoarsely in her ear, again the odor of garlic strong, bitter.  “Your first day and my commission for your auction have made my wages for the voyage!”  Glancing down, smiling toward the two men, he gets the affirmative nod from the bearded, older of the pair, signaling up with his fingers straightening, flexing on his exposed hand.  Releasing Amy, the auctioneer turns toward his group of servants.

       A matter of moments and feeling herself pulled backwards by her arms, Amy’s rolled across the railing.  Finding herself in the grip of a couple of the auctioneer’s white robed servants, one grabbing and cuffing her wrists, the other fastens a black leather chocker around her neck, above the strands of pearls.  Quickly fastening the cuffs to the rear of the choker, her white gloved hands crisscross her arched back, her nipples pointing apart on her up thrust breasts as she’s led carefully across the walkway in her stilettos as the auctioneer’s voice is already booming from the loud speakers as he shows the next girl.

       Fearing to speak, feeling the ominous atmosphere of being shackled with her arms behind her back, she’s led from the walkway through the heavily occupied corridor.  The servants behind on either side press her along; her shoulders brushing against and through the crowd of men as more then a few intentionally make contact with her naked body, especially her unprotected breasts and hips.  Keeping her head lowered, staring toward the floor, she senses somewhat of a relief as she presses past the crowd, approaches an elevator, the door open.

       Forced to face toward the rear as a handful of men step forward making room, the doors closes as the elevator jerks into motion.  Feeling the hands of the servants groping her buttocks, sliding between her thighs, fingers squeezing, melding the base of her breasts, tugging her against the elevator’s wall as her breasts are pressed, flattened against the warm stainless steel, she continues to remain silent, face the occupancy limit sign on the semi-mirrored surface as the servants have their short moments of pleasure with her.  As a tip of a finger scrapes across, pushes past the sphincter of the rim of her anus, the door opens.  Twisted around, the outlines of her breasts, even smudges of her nipples are left in sticky outlines from her perspiration on the shinny metal.  The hand removed from between her thighs, she’s roughly pushed from the elevator, behind the rest of the occupants exiting into another hallway, with the button pushed holding the door open.

       Led across the plush carpet as several men mill about watching with interest while admiring her naked body, she’s stood in front of a double door as a servant has her stand a couple or so feet back.  The other shoving her backside, straightening her legs and back almost causing her to tiptoe in her stilettos, her breasts and left cheek flatten against the right side door as she arches forward.  Lifting, stretching one breast while working the other, her nipples are forced to poke toward her sides with her sternum pressing against the door between her flattened melons as the pearls around her neck bunch up against the chocker collar.  Turning back through the collecting onlookers toward the elevator, the servants snicker, the doors still opened for them to enter.  As the elevator doors begin closing, she hears the faint order.  “You’re probably being watched… Stay there… Don’t move your feet until you’re allowed to enter… Be careful not to fall!......

       Glancing up toward the camera pointing downward from the ceiling as her hands twist behind her neck, realizing it’s focused on her, she maintains her stance, even as red faced, humiliated, she holds the attention of more then few onlookers still milling around her.  Struggling not to fall, leery of trying to straighten up, she allows her weight to continue to press against the door with her clammy chest, breasts flattened, slowly scraping downward across the sticking varnished wood as she tries her best to ignore the stares.  Knowing the punishing rules, not wanting to face being disciplined the time slowly passes as her chest begins to burn from the fresh tingling sunburn itching across her bare flesh as it adheres to the dampening wood, more of an annoying discomfort then real pain as the surreal experience continues.

       The elevator opening again, the robed bearded man exits surrounded by an entourage of a small group of men and women, also all robed in traditional Arab attire.  Stepping toward her left, opening the door, he glances back and nods back toward the men as he enters.  The women covered in black garb step silently behind him, the couple of men gripping Amy’s arms, stand her upright, again her sweating breasts sticking before scrapping away from the wooden panel.

       Leading her into the room, on first glance appearing almost patterned after a stereotypical sheik’s tent one would see in a ‘B’ grade porn flick, she’s led to the center of the floor to an oversized silk covered cushion.

       “Kneel, woman.”  The bearded man orders as he nods toward the dark toned cushion.  “Lean forward…  Let those breasts hang free and keep your hips shoved upward.”  Glancing and nodding toward the men, they immediately force her downward by either arm, lower her knees across the fluffy material forcing her to arch forward.

       Leaning, her breasts barely graze across the pillow as the pearl necklace hangs from her neck, her knees sliding apart as her butt cheeks spread.  Teetering, trying to balance as she glances up toward him standing in front of her, her heart pounds as she sees one of the robed women handing him a willowy length of cane.

       “Raise your head up straight… Keep it tilted upright and arch your back when I order… I want room to strike your buttocks… Lay welts across your backside.”  He orders between breaths in surprisingly good, but harsh English as he slowly steps around her trembling body while flexing the crop in between quips.  “For you, at this time only a good flogging is allowed me!”  He smiles with his quiet voice as he glances toward Amy’s widening eyes, appreciating the stark look of fear staring back.  “For the foreseeable future at least, I’ve been told that is all the punishment I’m allowed to administer to you…  But maybe one day soon I’ll be allowed to trade for you!”  Glancing toward the pair of robed, veiled women standing quietly side by side, only their obedient eyes revealed, a set of blue and a set of green, he adds.  “Then who knows?... For the time being I just rent you!... But for now… Your caning.”

       Stepping directly behind her, gently tapping the tip of the cane against the small of her back, circling the indentations of the twin dimples atop her butt cheeks, he orders.  “Raise your buttocks Amy… Push it out… Then remain motionless as I lay a stroke across the left cheek.”  Flicking the cane back over his shoulder, he flicks it forward, almost in slow motion.  “Swish… Thwack!”

       Flinching, almost falling forward, Amy whimpers.  “Oomph!”  Breasts swaying, pearls jiggling, her hands gripping into fists as her fingers dig into her palms behind her neck, she just as quickly gains her balance as her nipples press against the pillow’s case.

       Glancing toward the circling entourage, a hint of a smile with an approving nod, he steps forward, traces the index finger of his free hand across the vertical, thin welt already rising across her tanned left rump.  “Very good, Amy… Now let’s match that welt with one across the other butt cheek.  Arch upward and push outward to accept the crop.”

       Slowly rising with an audible whimper, she turns her eyes pleadingly toward him as he slowly circles from her left side.  Noticeably trembling, the white strands of pearls spreading above her quivering breasts, she hesitates, reluctant to thrust her butt out again.  A tear already streaking down a cheek, she glares toward the flexing crop in his right hand as he steps toward her.

       “Not another warning Amy… Shove your buttocks outward or I’ll strike both cheeks alternately until you obey… Now choose girl!”

       Biting her lip, her hands frenetically twisting behind her neck, she still feels the burn of the stinging welt resonating across her butt cheek as she reluctantly twists, arches her back as she thrusts her buttocks outward.

       “Good girl, Amy… Now arch your buttocks just a little further back.  Lightly tapping the end of the cane several times against the quivering mound of her right buttocks, just below the dimple, he centers the cane’s flexing tip against the very middle of the quivering cheek before holding it steady, indenting the puffy flesh briefly while slowly preparing to draw back.  “Don’t turn your head or close your eyes, Amy… If you move I’ll strike it again… Harsher… Do you understand?... Now push your buttocks against the cane, understand?”

       Tears welling, arching her back as her flattened stomach hollows under her heaving ribcage, the double row of pearls spread wide between her chocker collar and her separated, firm global breasts as she barely nods.  Having chosen the exact placement to strike, he momentarily glances with a smile toward her other quivering cheek with its red welt as she whines.  “Yes… Yes Sir… I… I understand Sir!”

       The cane finally flicked backwards, instantly springs forward, slashing across the right cheek.  “Swish… Thwack!”  The sound of the willowy cane splitting the air leads to the resounding effect of the cane striking her rump, sinking into the soft flesh.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!”  Both breasts flailing, the cane embedded and then springing from her assaulted flesh, her anguished cry echoes throughout the room as her knees jerk on the cushion.  Her head rearing back as her breasts sway back and forth, a crimson welt quickly swelling horizontally across her right butt cheek matches the initial one placed across her left.

       Stepping closer, another slight smile, he lets the tip of his index finger glide across that narrow welt, slowly, gently as the hot flesh quivers beneath his touch.  “Good… Good Amy!”  He applauds her, nodding toward her tear filled eyes as her darkened eye shadow begins to barely smudge across her cheeks.  “Now… Lower yourself forward… This time I want to strike both cheeks at the same time as your breasts hang down above the pillow…. Understand?... Lean over now!”

       Struggling both physically and mentally to maintain her balance as her body continues to uncontrollably tremble, the burning pain now sears equally through both her butt cheeks.  Closing her eyes and quietly moaning as she lowers herself forward, her swaying breasts flatten across the cushion before she catches herself, slowly arches upward.  “Yeh… Yes… Sir!”  She mumbles with a stutter as tears mix with a trace of mucus dripping from her flailing nostrils.  “Yes Sir!... My… Oh God!... It… It hurts so bad!”  She whimpers as her head slowly shakes back and forth.

       Painfully swaying forward, she feels the tip of the cane slipped between the cushion material and her torso before brushing gently across her flexing stomach as he lets the willowy crop flick back and forth.  Quietly moaning as the cane scrapes back and forth across her bare flesh, realizing he’s taunting her, she feels the cane sliding up across her jiggling nipple.  Her breast tugged, stretching with the motion of the springing cane, she grunts with each nervous breath, struggling to continue to lean forward and hold her breasts up from the cushion, anxiously waiting, silently praying for the cane not to slice into her dangling nipple.

        Her spreading thighs ache on the verge of cramping as her arms tingle, virtually numb from being twisted behind her back, a discarded stiletto lying on the floor beside the cushion.  “My… My ass is pushed back for you… Sir!”  She whimpers while glancing glassy eyed toward him as the crop flicks back and forth across her nipple. “My… My ass Sir!... My ass”

       A nod, a smile and he lets the cane slip across the cushion, to rise behind her trembling butt cheeks.  Snapping it gently at first across her tan flesh, each tap slightly firmer as the willowy tip flexes just a little more, he toys with the pair of red welts already standing up, spreading across each glistening cheek.  “Yes… Yes just your butt cheeks for now… Your breasts later!”  He again rasps in a monotone voice as he flicks the crop back, quickly snaps it forward.  “Swish… Thwack!”

       “Aaagghhh!”  Both cheeks flatten under the flexing cane.  “Swish… Thwack!”  A second, unexpected burning sting crisscrosses the just planted welt.  “Swish… Thwack!”  A third, in the line of almost instantaneous lashings, again creasing both quivering cheeks as Amy’s body contorts, her breasts flattening across the cushion, her arms jerking behind her back cuffed to the collar as her face presses into the fluffy material, the second stiletto flinging across the carpet..  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!”  A long, guttural scream, muffled by the cushion as her buttocks jaunts upward, her knees spreading across the slopes of the cushion exposing her shaven slit.

       “Swish… Thwack!”   Yet another unexpected strike of the curling cane, this time vertically planted as he steps directly behind her contorting body.

       “Aaaaggghhh!!!... Aaaggghhh!!!... Aaaggghhh!!!”  Rasping screams resonate through the room with each halting breath from the effects of the crop disappearing between the folds of her labia, snapping from the rim of her rectum to her pubic mound, her clit flattened from the springing crop.

       Falling flat forward, her face scraps the carpeted floor as her naked body spasms across the jerking cushion.  Legs twitching, her hands twist frantically behind her neck as her fingernails dig into her scrapped palms.  Stepping closer toward her side while lowering the crop, he smiles as he leans down toward her spread thighs, looking closely at the final beat red welt tracing across the quivering flesh circling her pulsing vagina.

       Glancing toward the women, he orders.  “Take her and bath her… Salve her welts.”  Even as the women are stepping forward, he adds.  “Then bring her to my bed unshackled… All three of you… Naked.”  Stepping away, the men following, he allows the women to attend to Amy still sprawled across the cushion.

       Watching and waiting for the men leaving toward a side door, the robed women lift Amy by her arms still cuffed behind her; guide her between them as she gingerly walks barefooted.  Her legs bowed, her buttocks thrust back as her breasts hang forward from her arched torso, gently dangling as she shuffles toward the back of the room.  Spreading the curtain, she’s led toward the brightly colored bath, a large white tub already filled, soap bubbles and foam practically overflowing onto the white tile floor.

       Silent, the blue eyed woman drops her robe, her veil onto the floor.  Young, attractive, her fair skinned body’s tattooed, pierced and branded from her hips to her shoulders in several places, including her nipples and vagina.  Holding Amy while the green eyed woman disrobes, her figure similar, also tattooed, pierced and branded across her otherwise young, admirable body in the same areas, faint freckles spread across her shoulders and chest.

       Glancing from one to the other, Amy remains silent as the women quickly uncuff her wrists and remove the pearls, the chocker collar next, dropping them onto the pile of their robes.  Still virtually silent, they turn her toward the oversized tub and step in beside her, leading her along, having her squat down into the suds.

       Feeling the more then warm, not quite hot soapy water, the warmth spreads across her welted flesh, actually soothing as her body lowers in the swirling water.  Splashing up under the mounds of her breasts, the rolling water raises and lowers, her firm mounds following as soapy bubbles cover her bare nipples.  The blond in front, the auburn hair woman behind, Amy offers no resistance as the pair begins sponging her shoulders and breasts with oversized, coral sponges.  The soapy water cascades across her naked flesh as they take turns raising her arms, tilting her head, letting the sponges manipulate her soaked flesh.

       Swiping across Amy’s face, the bubbly water splashes across her nose and lips as she closes her eyes, the soft sponge wiping across her tear swelled face and streaking makeup.  Hair drenched, hanging across he shoulders she feels the redhead swiping a soaked sponge back and forth across her thrust out breasts from behind, her puffy nipples hardening as they tingle from the hot water.  Feeling her legs being spread, her hips parting as the blond squeezes her sponge between her parted thighs; Amy feels the pressure against her pubic mound and even lower, spreading her puffy labia folds as her buttocks begins to flinch against the bottom of the tub as she hears a couple of slight giggles.

       Several soothing minutes pass by as she’s sublimely bathed, her naked body caressed with the thick, soft sponges.  Finally feeling her shoulders gripped from behind, being gently raised up from the overflowing tub, Amy stands, the bath water pouring off her bare flesh, splashing back into the tub even as it splashes across the floor.  Opening her eyes, slightly burning as the soapy water drips from her hair and forehead, Amy glances from one to the other as both women are also standing.  Naked, drenched, the soapy water also drips from their bare flesh, their gold nipple rings and clit rings gleaming from both being wet and the reflective lighting from above.

       The blond reaching up, unsnapping a hosed shower head from its cradle, flicks the nozzle around.  Amy feels the redhead twisting her arms up over her head as she feels the sudden spray of hot water drenching her face; almost gagging her as her arms are stretched even higher.  Across her hair, her face, the pulsing water drenches her bare flesh as the harsh stream’s slowly lowered toward her shoulders.  Feeling her naked body twisted, the pulsing water squirts across her left, then right breasts, back and forth as the force of the spray smacks across her jiggling areolas and nipples.  The rhythm of the rushing hot water massages her swaying breasts as they alternately flatten against her thrust out chest, her body slowly twisted back and forth by her up stretched arms.

       Catching her breath as the steaming water continues to drain from her hair and streak across her face.  She feels the heated spray pulsing even further downward as it pounds against her hollowing stomach, her inverted bellybutton.  Legs quivering, the pain of the welts barely noticeable now, she senses where the pulsing water’s being directed even before it splashes past her rippling abs toward her trimmed pubic mound.  Anticipating as she spreads her thighs, water already massages her spread vulva as the soapy runoff splashes down across her trembling clitoris.

       Feeling her arms pressed together near her elbows forcing her face to tilt forward, feeling the woman’s hands then sliding downward, the tips of the fingernails flicking across her hollowed armpits, to slide around and grip both drenched, slippery melons, Amy senses to keep stretching her arms straight upward, her fists clinching together, then flexing as her fingers spread wide before clenching again in rhythm with the pulsing water.  Eyes still closed, she feels the blonde’s free hand on front of her left thigh as the spraying nozzle’s pushed within inches of her spread slit, directly in front of her jerking, flattening clitoris as the continuous pulse of spurting water more then just massages, but virtually masturbates the twitching nub.  Higher on her naked chest, both thickening nipples still being massaged, her global breasts squeezed and melded between soapy fingers, the sensations resonate as her body quivers, then trembles, the foaming bath water rippling around her shaking legs overflowing the rim of the tub.

       Soapy water running across the tile floor soaks the discarded robes as the tub continues to overflow, steam misting in the air fogging the large mirrors on the far wall.  The sounds of the overflowing tub water, the pulsing nozzle water, mixes with Amy’s groans as her head twists back and forth in front of her quivering arms.  Her arms stretching, reaching tautly toward the ceiling as her arching, naked body’s stimulated by both massaging hands and targeted spray, Amy feels the blonde’s thumb slipping past the nozzle, pressing against the rim then past the sphincter of her rectum.  Uncontrolled spasms rack her body as she twists between the naked women, a rippling tremor deep inside her womb rapidly spreading toward her quivering thighs.

       Hearing the water shut off, feeling the spray slacken between her bare legs, she feels the woman’s hands slide upward from off her breasts, gripping and lowering her arms toward her sides.  Opening her eyes, she watches as the blonde steps from the tub and picks up a handful of white fluffy towels from a stool against the wall.  Being assisted over the rim of the tub by the redhead, standing on a couple dry towels as both women silently begin swiping towels across her drenched body, she remains virtually motionless, almost relaxed as the warmth still tingles deep inside her.  Again shutting her eyes as the fluffy towels massage her body dry, she realizes not a single word’s been uttered since they’ve taken her from the caning.

       A couple minutes pass as the soft towels caress her naked body.  Feeling a towel wrapped around her hair, her arms gripped on either side, she finally opens her eyes again.  Glancing from one to the other, she sees both women are also dried off, completely naked with towels wrapping their heads, their gold jewelry sparkling.  Without speaking, they tug; lead her toward the curtain, toward their Master’s bed.

End Part One        

                 

          

       

       

          

       

          

       

           

THE ESCORT

Auctioned, immediately put through her first paces, Amy faces another requirement of her service after a brief respite.  It appears it’s going to be a long voyage.

Chapter Two

       Naked, only white towels wrapped around their damp hair, the trio of women approach the bedroom chamber.  The blonde on one side, the redhead on the other, their bodies glisten under the subtle lighting, their exotic tattoos and gold ornamented piercings differentiating them from Amy sandwiched in between.  Her body also glistens, only naturally across her evenly tanned flesh.

       Directed toward the four cornered poster bed in the center of the floor she’s forced to climb up onto it and kneel.  Her spreading knees sinking into the plush bedspread, she’s twisted around to face toward the bottom by the escorting women as they position themselves on either side of the mattress.  Four black leather cuff’s are readily accessible, each hanging down from a corner bedpost by supple white rope a foot or so above the mattress.

       The women remain silent as they begin applying the ropes to Amy, left wrist first, followed by her right.  Offering no substantial resistance as the cuffs are secured and spread apart by the tugged ropes affixed to the posts at the bottom of the bed with her arms in place and stretched wide, her ankles are next.  Working efficiently, left leg lifted back by the redhead, the blonde fastening the cuff around the ankle, Amy’s forced to lean forward and balance on her right knee as it sinks further into the mattress.  Breasts hanging down, swaying back and forth across her arching bare chest, her right leg’s yanked back and toward the rear corner post by the blonde with the redhead cuffing that ankle.  Her straining nude body bowing, she faces downwards, twisting and spread-eagled, finding herself painfully secured above the bed.

       Glancing apprehensively, first toward the blonde then the redhead, neither appear to be done as they hover around the bed.  Adjusting the ropes while positioning her bound body for something else, her fingers and toes flex while she painfully struggles in her restraints, her muscles and tendons throughout her stretched body already feeling the burn as they’re defined under her taut flesh.  Her substantial breasts, a glistening pair of pendulous melons, sway back and forth as her puffy tan nipples quiver just inches off from the bedspread as she contorts in mid air, the cuffs already chaffing her wrists and ankles.

       Seeing, then feeling  a bright red, hard rubber ‘O’ ring forced between her stretching lips, its strap fastened behind her neck, she grunts as the towel’s pulled from her head, her damp hair harshly twisted, knotted in the blonde’s fist as its tugged back.  Wide eyed, she glances from the corner of her eyes toward the redhead stepping besides her holding a glistening metal hook with the curved end formed into the shape of a huge phallus.  She can’t help being alarmed by its tapered shaft, widening from the molded knob, its purpose obvious.  Realizing it’s being positioned between her spread thighs, pressed against the puckered rim of her rectum, she grunts as she reflexively attempts to squeeze her buttocks together, even as her rectum’s sphincter muscles are painfully stretched around the elongated knob of the shaft being forced to penetrate her.

       Wheezing, spewing saliva from her yawning stretched lips, shoulders twisting and hips jerking as she tenaciously struggles against several forceful thrusts, she feels the head of the oiled phallus painfully ‘plop’ into her straining orifice.  Rammed and screwed back and forth inside her inch by inch, she feels the thick metal impaling her jerking body even as she continues to helplessly struggle, the shaft continuing to stretch her rectum across its widening girth, grinding itself inward until its curved hook presses between the cheeks of her quivering buttocks.  The molded oversized knob engulfed deep inside her stretching bowels, the rim of her anus on the verge of tearing, she feels her head yanked, forced further back as the rope’s tightly tied around her twisted hair, tugged back to the eyehook in the end of the butt plug.  Arms and legs already aching from the weight of her tied between the posts; her naked body’s forced to painfully bow even further as the slack in the rope’s adjusted.

       Stepping to either side of the bed, the pair of women inspect their nearly completed task.  Hanging between the posts, contorted and spread-eagled, Amy’s mouth and vagina are both spread wide, readily accessible.  Their preparation of her nearly complete, gripping and manipulating her swaying breasts with hot, oily lotion, they commence massaging her naked body.  Her firm melons glistening as the melded flesh squeezes between their fingers and thumbs, her nipples are stretched, tweaked as her suspended body sways agonizingly between the posts.  Oil drips across the bedspread from her drenched torso as the redhead continues working both breasts, the blonde letting her fingers slide away, stepping further down the side of the bed.   

       Pouring a trail of hot oil across Amy’s spread butt cheeks, across the fading welts left by the caning, letting the oil crisscross in streams across the twitching bare flesh, the blonde spreads it around the gleaming butt plug allowing the misting oil to saturate Amy’s reddening vulva, trickle into her spread vagina, soaking the nub of her protruding clitoris as she grunts, her thighs noticeably trembling.  Massaging her butt cheeks, slipping her fingers across Amy’s spread slit, tugging and pinching her oiled clit while twisting the puffy folds of her labia, she slips a finger slowly forward,  two then three knuckles deep inside the stretching orifice.

        Listening to the grunts, moans as the oil soaks both her finger and Amy’s twitching vagina, the blonde runs a second and a third finger inside the oiled slit, back and forth against the curve of the impaling butt plug, feeling the girth of the hard thick phallus pressing from the other side of Amy’s vagina wall against her fingertips.  Ramming her fingers deeper with each thrust, her forth finger slides in, now all four fingers pressing deeper, the web of her thumb scraping against the but plug as Amy’s groans turn louder.

       The redhead also continues manipulating the slick, oiled melons hanging, swaying in front of her.  Squeezing, smacking, twisting one, then the other, pinching a nipple, twisting and stretching it downward, releasing it to bounce back, Amy’s body reflexively jerks, quivers as her muscles, tendons sear from the burn of being stretched and yanked.  Saliva spews from the ‘O’ ring, dribbles down across her bare chest, drips across the bedspread as each breath brings another rasping grunt.

       Hearing the door opening, glancing toward one another, the pair of women instantly stops.  Sliding their hands off Amy’s oiled body, they step back, leaving her stretched above the bed.  Standing together against the wall, eyes lowered toward the floor, they remain silent as the men enter.  The elder man still in his dark garb approaches in front of the other two, stopping directly at the foot of the bed, in front of Amy’s oil drenched body.

       Watching the other men step around him, dropping their own dark robes, Amy’s transfixed at their naked bodies underneath, their dark flesh glistening as she stares almost unbelievably from one to the other.  Each well over six feet tall, both muscular and ripped with broad shoulders and narrow waists, she can’t help anxiously noticing their swaying shafts are huge, semi erect as they step closer, both appearing even larger then the phallus impaling her butt.  Positioning themselves on either side of the bed she hears the shuffling, scuffing of the bed being slid underneath her and back across the carpet as she finds herself swaying above the bare floor, spread-eagled; her orifices now waist high to the men.

       “Time to be penetrated by something other then that phallus in your rectum, Jodi!”  The elder states as he steps beside her.  Placing his hand on the taut rope stretching her head back, sliding his other hand across the glistening chrome of the butt hook, he glances toward the red, thin welts across her buttocks.  Smiling, he nods toward the men as one steps in front, the other behind her.  Their cocks stiffening, the swelling knobs flick across her chin and butt cheeks simultaneously as the man behind her grips the butt hook’s rope, the other cuffing her ears.

       To the side, glancing toward the other women, the elder nods them forward.  Silently approaching, he hands both a reconfigured version of a Wartenberg pinwheel.  Directed to either side of Amy, he positions them next to her, each cupping one of her dangling breasts with one hand while holding the handle of the multi spiked wheel in the other.

       “Amy, if you cry out, even mutter as you’re servicing these men, your breasts will be harshly pricked as punishment… Even harsher between your legs.”  He instructs as he takes a pinwheel in his hand, holds it next to her face.  “Remember, I mentioned earlier your breasts would receive their due attention also…. And as it’s not allowed for them to be flogged, the spiked pinwheels will work just fine.  If you don’t show enough enthusiasm, you can expect an adjustment… Understand?”

       Panicking, glaring wide eyed toward him, back toward the man’s huge cock slapping across  her cheeks, then back toward the multi spiked pinwheel gleaming in his hand, she tries to shake her head, muffle through the ‘O’ ring, only able to emit pathetic grunts.

       “Okay… I take that as a ‘Yes’ Amy.”  He nods as he slips the pinwheel back to the redhead.  Again glancing toward the group, stepping back, he takes a seat several feet away, faces his entertainment and nods again.  “Begin!”

       Rasping for breath, aches and cramps already racking her spread body, she’s unprepared for the harshness as she catches the thick cock ramming between the ‘O’ ring, stretching, twisting the hard rubber, forcing her jaws even wider.  Tasting the salty fluid across her lips, her flattened tongue, the added pain of the sudden thrust of the other cock tearing into her oiled vagina jolts her suspended body.  The swollen shaft engulfing her mouth thrusts its way across her tonsils, deep down her throat as his pubic mound presses against her flattening nose, his scrotum slapping across her chin.  Instantaneously, she feels the man’s shaft behind her burrowed to the hilt inside her vagina.  The horrendous sensations of all three of her orifices being stretched by the pair of engorged cocks and the hard metal phallus are unbearable as her naked body uncontrollably spasms between the creaking posts. 

       Gagging, jerking, her body stretched inside and out, she feels the relentless harsh rhythm of the men’s shafts ramming in and out, back and forth as she continuously jerks in her restraints, the butt hook tearing at her anus.  Choking, coughing, her body stretching, bouncing for agonizing minutes, the thick shafts burrowing almost impossibly deeper into her bowed body from both ends, she’s terrified her orifices must be ripping.  Almost nauseous, on the verge of hyperventilating, even more pain’s applied, resonating through her tortured body as the sudden sharp pin pricks trace harshly across her breasts.  Her areolas, her nipples feel the makeshift Wartenberg wheels rolling back and forth, crisscrossing her bulging melons as they’re twisted and tugged by the women’s unrelenting hands.

       The elder sits and enjoys the spectacle.  His robe spread, his hand slowly stroking his own swollen shaft as he watches the suspended naked body dancing spread-eagled in front of him.  Oiled, gyrating, blood already drips from her pricked breasts as the needles continue to sink in, leaving trails of the tiniest, but extremely painful puncture marks.  Both muscular men relentless, their thickening shafts at least a solid nine inches in length, their thrusts continuously pounding into the hilt, their scrotums alternately slapping across her chin and clit as she gags, gasps for breath.  Defensively arching upward in the cuffs, her wrists and ankles raw, a shade of crimson from scrapping against the leather, she pathetically tries to rise above the pricking Wartenberg wheels still crisscrossing her bulging nipples, her breasts as the onslaught continues, escalating for another several long, painful minutes.

       Wracked with pain, body uncontrollably trembling, choking for breath as the cock pressing through the ‘O’ ring seems to swell even thicker in her throat as it’s held in for longer periods of time with each thrust, the multiple pain begins to become as one, spreading across her entire tortured body.  Eyes rolling upwards into the back of her head, the room spinning, a spurt of urine dribbles from between her legs, splashing across the floor below her as her ravaged body becomes limp, she no longer struggles.

       The man behind her grunts as his naked body flexes, his hips jerking.  Gripping the rope tighter with both hands, jerking her head back, he rams all the way in, his body trembling as his cum explodes deep inside her.  The other man, also grunting continues to thrust forward as his shoulders, hips begin reflexively twitching.  Ramming his cock completely in, stretching the ‘O’ ring around his girth as he grunts even louder, her cheeks bulging as his pulsing cock shoots its loud, the head of his throbbing cock forced halfway down her throat. 

       Enough!... Enough for now!”  The elder waves his hand toward the women as he realizes the men have spent themselves in her unconscious body.  “Clean her… Both orifices!”  He nods.

       Stepping back, the women lower their instruments, dropping them to the floor.  Their naked bodies glistening as they stand side by side, they wait for room.  The men, one at a time also pull out.  Stepping back, the cock slipping out from the ‘O’ ring flips across Amy’s chin as an audible ‘Swoosh’ of air escapes her throat.  Hanging limply by the shackles, traces of blood drips from the tips of her nipples quivering off her dangling breasts as the pinholes trace circles around her tit flesh.  Barely rocking back and forth, her head still drawn tautly back by the rope connecting the butt plug, her drenched, limp body continues to shine; glistening spread-eagled between the horizontal posts.            

       Circling her, the women remove the towels from their hair.  The redhead steps between Amy’s thighs, the blonde in front.  Kneeling on their towels, both place their hands palms upward on their thighs as they press their faces forward, their tongues out.  Slipping her tongue through the ‘O’ ring, pressing her mouth against Amy’s, the blonde begins licking, slurping.  The redhead also leans forward, her tongue flicking down below Amy’s clitoris before dragging up across the soaked labia flaps, milky juices oozing, dripping from the gapping slit.

       While the redhead continues lapping back and forth, up and down across Amy’s thighs and vagina, around the butt hook, the blonde leans down twists her neck as she slips her tongue across Amy’s left nipple, areola, around the global tit flesh.  Licking the crimson drenched breast clean, she twists, presses her face against the right breast, lapping its soaked flesh clean.  A couple minutes, finished, they glance toward the elder while remaining kneeling with palms up.

       Smiling, nodding, he acknowledges his satisfaction as he stands.  “Good!”  He calmly speaks.  “Now, to awaken her.”  Stepping in front of the posts, snapping a capsule, he whiffs it across her upper lip, below her nostrils, once, twice, a third time.  “Amy?... Amy!”

       Eyes blinking, the acrid smell burning her nostrils, she grunts as she coughs, spitting up more milky fluids mixed with her spittle. Glancing around the room, the naked men, the naked women, her mind can’t quite adjust to her predicament.  Again the searing burn of her joints returning, the ache of her pricked breasts pounding in her chest, she feels her spread-eagled body involuntarily quivering with reflexive shivers, the butt hook impaling her still tugging at her hair.

       A crop now in his hand, he leans toward her face, and scolds.  “You didn’t remain silent… That will cost you an even half dozen lashes across your vagina!”  Stepping toward her rear, he adds.  “Any cries and the strokes won’t count, Amy.”

       Barely conscious, hardly understanding his threat, she hangs limply between the posts as he steps around her.

       “Swish!”  Flicking the crop, it smacks between her spread folds.  “Thwack!”  Watching her body jerk.  “Agghhhh!”  A squeal emits from the ‘O’ ring as he smiles to himself.

       “Swish!”  A second flick, just a little harder and the tip of the crop glances off the chrome sinking into her rectum. “Smack!”

       “Aggghhhhhh!!”  Another pitiful screech as her body arches, breasts flailing, her hands becoming fists, her toes curling as the cuffs vibrate in the tautly stretching ropes.

       “Swish!”  The third flick, the leather flattens her exposed clit.  “Thwack!” 

       “Oomph!”  Unable to mask her grunt, the leather searing her raw clit, her body arches, bows as she struggles to hush her scream, the pain ripping through her womb.

       “What… Did you speak Amy?”  He mocks as he watches her head frantically trying to jerk back and forth in the tight rope, her bare breasts thrusting out, smacking together.  “Should I start over?”

       Again her head twitching back and forth as her body gyrates in the stretched ropes, he flicks the crop yet again.  “Swish!”

       “Thwack!”  The forth blow, the hardest yet, crisscrosses the last.  “Agghhhh!”

       Smiling to himself, he glances toward the women, their heads lowered but their eyes glancing toward the painful vagina flogging.  “Did she cry out again?”  He asks with his sarcastic grin.  “Should I allow her maybe a little mercy this time?”

       Lowering their eyes, not even nodding, they instinctively remain neutral.  Turning back toward Amy’s backside; he raises his fist, the crop in hand.  “Two quick ones Amy…  Silence or two more, on top of those!... Prepare yourself for two harsher ones.”

       “Swish!... Thwack!”   “Swish… Thwack!”  Forehand, backhand, the crop flexes, twists between her spread thighs as it follows the crease of her butt cheeks, flattens her clit, leaves instant bruises across her pubic mound with a pair of thin red welts, her labia folds puffy, purplish.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!...   Aaaggghhh!!!”  Unable to hold her screams, she jerks, twists in her restraints, again her oiled breasts swaying, stretching, specks of perspiration mixed with saliva, oil sprays across the floor.

       “Swish!... Thwack!”   “Swish… Thwack!”  Another harsh backhand, a harsher forehand and the crop sinks into her quivering, puffy flesh repeatedly, directly across the last two even as urine spurts from her thighs as she continues to jerk uncontrollably.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Another long scream as saliva spews from the ‘O’ ring, her eyes rolling in her head, urine streaming across the floor below her from between her quivering thighs as her eyes roll upwards in her head.

       Lowering the crop, stepping forward, he tilts his head, glances into her tortured eyes, swollen, barely fluttering.  “That scream’s okay Amy… Okay!... Your punishment’s done… For now!”  Again glancing toward the pair of nude women, he nods toward the bed.

       Stepping away, leaving the room as the other two men retrieve their robes, slipping them on as they follow, the women push the bed beneath Amy, centers it between the posts.  Unshackling the cuffs, wrists first, ankles last, Amy’s naked body glistens as it drops breasts first across the bedspread, still arched spread eagled.  Untying the rope from her hair, tugging the butt plug from her puckered anus, her bowed body drops face down, sprawling flat across the bed, her oiled breasts pressed flat against the mattress, visible from behind her back, the nipples spread out to either side on the bed, her workout over.

End Part Two

       

           

          

                   

THE ESCORT

Amy receives a couple degrees of orientation and a visit to the disciplinary chamber before her next session.

Chapter Three

       Hearing the bath water, her body wracked with pain, Amy continues to lay sprawled facedown across the bed not wanting to move a finger or twitch a toe.  The burning sensations between her thighs, the aching of her stretched rectum, the soreness already from the already swollen folds of her lashed labia already forces her to lay with her legs spread, her knees drawn up across the bedspread.  Eyes closed, listening to the pair of women continuing to move about from the bedroom to the bath, still not uttering a word between them is becoming nerve-racking in itself.

       As the bath runs in the background, her thoughts of her first actual day of servitude are practically overwhelming.  Dibbling off and on with being a high priced call girl for the past few years have presented more then a few kinky moments, but that’s all it ever was, just moments.  Even having modeled for a couple of well paying BDSM photo shoots and coached into attending an occasional fetish club gathering with an old boyfriend now and again was tolerable, even sometimes somewhat enjoyable.

       Barely moving her legs, the harshness of the pain of her thighs pressing together cause her to jerk, grunt, as she again lays still, her eyes blinking open, noticing the women are still in the bathroom.  Sliding her hands down between her legs, rimming her sore sphincter with a finger, she’s relieved its not torn as she gently pats her pubic mound with her legs spread, feeling the noticeable welts across her aching vulva.

       Again lying motionless with both hands between her thighs, her mind races, her thoughts mixed.  The concerns of her treatment are almost overwhelming with the urgent thoughts of how to escape this terrible predicament she’s placed herself into.  Yet, her mind keeps going back to her very first day on the liner, practically the first hour on board.  Being shown the sadistic degree of discipline administered to a couple of the unfortunate women, what hideous treatment their naked bodies were put through, even with the ship’s Captain and doctor helping apply the unimaginable punishment in the isolated chamber deep down in the ship’s bowels, she realizes there’s no one she can even consider helping her, nowhere to hide or certainly escape to.

       She also realizes the well attended disciplinary sessions are a big part of the entertainment for the passengers and crew.  Even the slightest infraction gives the several sessions a day the naked women to abuse.  All she knows is that for the time being, no matter how bleak the circumstance, she has to be strong enough to accept the terms of her bullshit contract and bide her time, get past each day one at a time with the minimum of punishment.

       Hearing the water shut off, sensing the women next to the bed, she feels a hand on her shoulder as she lets her eyes slowly blink open.  Raised off the bedspread, led to the bath, again she’s allowed to soak in the hot soapy water, to be sponged, bathed and caressed by both women’s hands as they remain silent.  Eyes mostly closed, totally relaxing as her sore body’s manipulated, the medicated water soothes her naked flesh as her breasts float in the suds bobbing across her chest.  Hearing the drain open, the water begin to slowly lower in the tub, she feels the warm spray of the shower head rinsing her body.

       Stood up, toweled front and back by the blonde, arms raised, hips spread, a salve gently spread across her pubic mound, the swollen folds circling her vagina, the pain between her thighs have become more of an ache, her bare skin soft and smooth. A pill, a small white cup of liquid raised toward her moist lips by the nodding blonde, Amy swallows the bitter solution behind the tablet.  Led back to the bed, allowed to lay on the fresh bed sheets the redhead just applied, both women again leave the room, silently, turning off the lights.

       Curling up, laying naked across the bedspread, her eyes close, her thoughts almost hazy as her body relaxes, her thoughts fading as she reaches for the sheet, partially covers herself before it slips from her fingers.  Soon her naked body lays motionless, semi-curled across the bed as she drifts into unconsciousness for the next couple hours as bits of dreams flutter through her mind.

       Allowed a couple hours of medicated sleep, Amy’s given a planned out shock to her system.  Hair yanked back, rousted awake at the sight of the redhead’s naked body being dragged into the room and across the floor, she’s awakened.  The pain pulses between her thighs as she finds herself also manhandled, her vulva still swollen and discolored from the caning just a few hours before.  Immediately jerked upright by the hair of her head, she’s forced to painfully sprawl face down across the mattress, trembling, staring disoriented into the shadows at the surreal turmoil.  Eyes squinting, mind racing, she catches a glimpse of the nude redhead receiving a harsh smack across her left cheek followed by an even harsher one across her right, her head jerking back and forth, her body twisting across the carpet.

       “Wake up!.... Wake up slut!”  Amy hears the stern accented voice resonating throughout the darkened room, his hand forcefully twisting her hair as he jerks.  “Kneel… Kneel on the bed… Now bitch!”

       Yanked up onto her elbows, knees, bent harshly backwards and painfully bowed toward the mattress by the hair of her head even before hearing the last of his harsh words, her bare breasts bounce, sway as her knees slip and spread across the covers.  His other hand gripping, twisting her left arm as she reflexively tries to cover herself, the instantaneous onslaught overwhelms her anguished mind, just moments before having dwelled in a restless sleep.

       “I said kneel on the bed whore… Look at her!... Watch!!... And don’t move a finger!”  She hears the rasping voice commanding her as she’s forced to stare half dazed into the practically dark room toward the whimpering redhead reflexively grabbing at the hand gripping her breast, trying to jerk it away as her hair’s jerked back, followed quickly by a sudden gut wrenching blow to her kidneys, followed by another brutal slap across her face driving her backwards across the floor, bent double, obviously in pain, struggling to catch her breath.

       Head jerked back, held firmly by her hair, Amy’s forced to watch the brutal assault as the redhead’s ankles are grabbed; her legs sadistically jerked, again her naked body dragged back across the floor toward the side of the bed.  Face down, her full weight scraping across the carpet, her naked breasts grind beneath her as she’s twisted onto her stomach, a foot stomped across the small of the her back.  Her hair gripped and twisted, her body’s bowed backwards, her breasts swaying, forced to thrust outward across her painfully arched torso.  Grunting, wheezing with each terrorized breath, her arms crisscross defensively in front of her rug burned breasts, pressing tightly, flattening her firm globes against her chest as she struggles, nearly hysterical, glancing wide eyed around the room.

       “Bitch!... I’ll break you in half in you even think of resisting me again!”  Amy hears the harsh, accented voice ordering as the redhead’s hair’s yanked even further back, her naked body practically doubling backwards with the foot still planted firmly against the small of her back.  “Uncover yourself… Spread those fucking arms out…Way out bitch!... I want to see those tits pushed out!”

       Obviously terrified, yet immediately obeying, her arms jerk and stretch apart while her hands twists outwards, her fingers spreading wide.  Bare breasts bouncing, smacking together, her torso lurches painfully forward with the back of her head pressing firmly against his thigh, her spine arching almost impossibly backwards against his thrust out knee.

       The curtains spreading, the dark robed elder enters, flicking the lights on.  Walking slowly toward the bed, eyes fixed on the contorted red head, a black leather cat o nine tails dangles from his right fist.  Stepping In front of the whimpering woman, staring into her swollen eyes, glancing down across her trembling breasts; toward the gold ornaments glistening, jiggling off her out thrust nipples, he hesitates only momentarily.

       “Thwack… Thwack… Thwack!!!” Three lashings, backhanded, forehanded, backhanded again as the redhead’s nude body lurches backwards against the man’s knee, her arms still stretched obediently apart, but jerking, her clenched fists twisting with each lashing from the multi tipped whip across her bare chest.  Both breasts jerking, bouncing under each stroke, the leather strands curl, spread across her grapefruit sized globes leaving fresh crimson crisscrossed welts.

       Heart pounding, wide eyed, Amy tries to jerk her head away, stunned at the sadistic scene playing out in front of her.  “Thwack… Thwack… Thwack!!!”  Another two, three lashings administered directly across the lurching melons resonate across the dark room as the redhead struggles to remain silent, her trembling arms still outstretched, her fingers frantically spreading open, clenching shut.

       The bed springing beneath her twitching knees, Amy feels the strong fist twisting, knotting her hair behind her head as she’s forced to remain face forward, to watch the flogging.  Terrified to move, she lets her arms hang down toward her sides, her palms resting on her quivering legs as her fingernails dig into her taut thighs with each crack of the whip across the redhead’s naked flesh.    

       Lowering the whip, glancing toward the man holding the redhead, then toward the man holding Amy’s hair, the elder’s eyes momentarily make contact with Amy’s.  Expressionless, without a word he takes a couple steps toward the bed.  Reaching out, he lets the dangling leather straps brush across her bare breasts, first the left, then the right globe before a second agonizingly deliberately slow brush of the snake like strands of leather across the hardening nipples one at a time.  Finally lowering his hand, he lets the moist leather slip down between her thrust out globes, across her heaving stomach, the flicking tips deliberately brushing back and forth across her quivering pubic mound.  Again quietly staring into Amy’s pleading eyes, he turns and slowly walks out of the room, the whip hanging from his hand.

       Feeling her own hair released, the man beside her step away from the bed, she surreally watches as the redhead’s dragged slowly across the carpet by her hair toward the door, her arms still kind of spread apart while she attempts to slide herself along, her naked body twisting, her feet pushing at the carpet as the multiple whip marks glisten off her naked flesh.  The light flicks off.

       Semi-darkness, total quiet.  Her heart pounding as she continues to kneel on the bed sheets, she feels her naked body trembling as she slowly crosses her arms above and below her quivering globes.  Feeling the dampness across her bare breasts from the leather straps, the pain again becomes noticeable between her spread thighs with each pounding heartbeat.  Remaining motionless, almost afraid to lay down, she allows her eyes to blink shut, to momentarily close.  Exhausted, yet her nerves on edge, letting her knees spread a little wider as she feels herself slightly swaying, she squints into the shadows, slowly turning her head while deliberately glancing around while listening for sounds, any sounds while her eyes become accustomed to the empty, dimly lit room.

       Minutes pass, maybe more, after a while she begins to wonder if she’d been dreaming, or worse, even still having a nightmare.  Thighs, knees aching, cramping, she lets herself twist, lower down across the bed to lie above the bed sheets, eyes still wide open.  Curling into a semi-fetus position, her breasts still cradled between her arms crossed in front of her chest, she listens for any sound.  Closing her eyes, hearing the rhythm of her heartbeat as her ear presses against the mattress, she tries to remain alert even as her naked body sinks into the bedding, but within moment’s drifting into another semi conscious state before finally falling into a troubled sleep.  Another couple hours of quiet before her next phase.

       A light blinking on, a shuffle of feet and Amy feels a cuff snapped across her left wrist.  Still in a fetal position, glancing through her matted eyes, she glances toward the blonde standing beside the bed.  Jerking, kneeling while still curled into a ball, she slowly rocks back and forth across the disheveled covers, silently staring at the naked blonde as she secures a matching black cuff across her right wrist.  A matching choker collar affixed around her neck and the blonde tugs the light chain connecting the set and tugs her from the bed.

       Led from the bedroom barefoot and naked, her forearms pressing across her firm breasts as her fingers interlock beneath her chin, Amy’s led by the blonde out into the hallway and onto the elevator, the red lights of the ceiling camera’s flickering.  Still early in the morning, light barely shinning in from the portals overlooking the outside deck as just the two of them proceed to the bowels of the ship.  Exiting the elevator, the blonde presses the code next to the metal door, it swings open.  Tugging at Amy’s chain, the door closes behind them as they enter the discipline area she visited the first day, but now appearing empty.

       Led past several sinister devices, various types of equipment obviously used for a lot more then simple punishment, Amy, heart pounding, apprehensively follows the blonde to the rear wall, to a frosted glass door for a back chamber.  A trio of a row of lights, red and yellow dim, the green brightly lit, line across the top of the sealed passage with a switch panel beside the entry including an arrowed handle on a multi colored timer base to match the lights, its arrow pointing toward green.  Above the panel, a circular thermometer’s black hand rests just below twenty degrees.

       Mostly fogged over, beads of moisture drip down across the door’s glistening partition.  Briskly wiping a swath across the glass with her forearm, tugging the chain on Amy’s cuffs to push her closer to the door, she steps aside allowing a still slightly distorted view of the inside of the chamber.  Glancing in, her eyes widen as she realizes she’s staring at an unfortunate naked woman somehow contorted in the air, covered with ice.

       “Take a good look!”

       Hearing the blonde speak, practically muttering for the first time, glancing toward her then back into the chamber, Amy feels her heart pounding as she’s transfixed at the hideous sight.

       “Feel the glass in front of you.”

       Again hearing the muffled words of the blonde, Amy feels a hand shove against the small of her back, her breasts thrust outward past her shackled wrists, pressing against the icy glass.  “Oohhh!”  The sudden chill, her breasts pressed between her forearms practically adhering to the glass panel, she feels the choker tugged back, pulling her away from the glass, her rock hard nipples leaving twin smudges across the partition.

       “It’s below freezing in their right now; the salt water adhering to her naked flesh makes her appear to be an ice sculpture, doesn’t it!”  The blonde advises.  “But watch this!”  Twisting the knob to red, the lights flash above the door in sequence, the red brightly lit.

       “Watch closely now!”

       Again staring through the distortion, she watches the anguish of the nearly frozen body as the thermometer’s hand quickly climbs, forty, fifty-five, seventy degrees.

       “Another minute and it’ll be over a hundred and twenty!”  The blonde smirks.  It’s set to level off just below scolding… Real close to scolding.”

       Again glancing toward the blonde’s eyes, glancing toward the thermometer, back inside the booth, Amy begins to get a clearer look, the moisture dripping, running in streams off the once frozen glass as it heats up.  Silently staring, observing the insidious binding of the naked, contorted body, bound on some sort of tubular apparatus, drenched and stretched with only her head covered, tightly covered by a black latex bondage hood so tightly fit there’s no visible outline of her nose or ears, only a red ponytail frozen across the cutout on the very top next to a tube leading in for her to breath.

       “Interesting device… Huh?”  The blonde smiles, a statement more then a question.  “Notice how she’s mounted?... How the ice is beginning to separate from her naked flesh already?”

       Not needing a play by play, Amy barely listens to the blonde’s voice as she glares through the glass, at the insidious sight of the spread naked body hosted in the air being sprayed with jets of heated water from several ingenious directions, obviously melting what was moments before frozen.  Looking closer, again toward the smiling, nodding blonde, Amy realizes from the nipple jewelry, the tattoos and the brandings that’s beginning to appear that the unfortunate victim is the redhead.

       “Yep… that’s her!”  The blonde smirks as she also glances inside the booth.  “She’ll be in there for a while too!”

       Glancing at the gauge, now showing over a hundred degrees, Amy eyes seem transfixed on the workings of the booth, of the redhead’s shivering, contorting body, her torso forcefully thrust out, her breasts just moments before round globes of ice, now sagging back toward her arched and bound shoulders stretched and affixed to the metal tubing.  Water also pours off from what appears to be a pair of obscenely large cycles of ice frozen together and rammed firmly between her spread and bound thighs, obviously mounted deep inside her vagina and rectum.

       “Oh… I see you’re interested with her cunt!”  The blonde nudges Amy.  “Her orifices down there are stretched wide with ‘O’ rings so they fill with jets of water.  That way when the cold cycle commences, it freezes and swells rather nicely inside her… Don’t worry though; she’ll be flushed out real good with the heated water!”

       Steam begins to spread across the glass, rise from the melting ice covering the booth’s floor as water pours through the central drain below the apparatus.  Still staring inside, still able to see the redhead’s naked body trying to twist, her head’s the only part of her body not bound as she twists and jerks the black hood as the jets of steaming water sprays her naked body.  Watching her almost bluish white flesh turning a pinkish, then red shade, Amy can almost feel the extreme swing herself of the sadistic temperature change of the jets of water as the glass heats up in front of her.

       “She’ll receive at least a dozen cycles.”  The blonde advises.  “”This is only her forth so far… You can tell by the gauge, it keeps a running count… By the way, each cycle’s usually set for ten minutes… She’s not so lucky today… The cycle’s set for fifteen; she’s been a bad girl!”

       The chain jerked, Amy’s tugged away from the glass door; the blonde leading her back through the vacant discipline chamber.  “Before I help make you up, I was instructed to show you what you could be facing tonight if you don’t perform up to expectations this afternoon.  Apparently you’re going to be dancing for a small group of Master’s guests… Of course servicing them too!... And if I were you, I’d really be pleasing everyone!... Actually I think they have something planned really special they want to do to you also!”  Stopping for a moment, glancing into Amy’s eyes, she sinisterly adds as she points toward the chamber in the rear of the room again.  “Can you imagine what that naked body of yours would look like in there?  How it would feel… I’m sure sooner or later you’re going to find out!”

       Hardly comprehending what she’s hearing, the thoughts of the redhead being tortured racing through her mind, glancing back toward the steaming chamber, and glancing back toward the blonde, Amy struggles with herself but has to know.  “What… What did she do… I mean last night she was…”

       “She was flogged in front of you?... Then this?”  The blonde butts in.  “She was punished in front of you so you could see the consequences of misbehavior… Actually, her infraction?  She had the nerve to ask a question, stupid!”

End Part 3      

          

       

              

       

THE ESCORT

Prepared for her next session, Amy’s exotic moves are put exhaustingly on display as she tries to avoid further punishment while receiving an uninvited, painful visit from an old nemesis.  Forced to take an even more painful ride, her belligerence gains her the taste of leather, this time across her breasts, before a chilling trip to the discipline area.

Chapter Four

       The plunging décolletage of the sheer chiffon dress drapes down across the firm rounded slopes of Amy’s braless, symmetrical globes as she stands obediently motionless.  Her thrust out chest rising and lowering with each anticipating breath, the gold stitched neckline highlights the pure white material embedding, lazily sliding across her prominent nipples, exposing just a hint of her puffy areolas.  Translucent, erotically designed to appear almost less then transparent, the rest of the brief, form fitting dress accents the already seductive curves of her panty less hips as golden hemmed slits spread to just below her waist, exposing her taut thighs, the hemline barely covering the creases of her buttocks.

       From behind, the plunging ‘V’ of the fabric exposes her tapering shoulders down to the hollowing of the small of her back, highlighting the matching dimples just above the pronounced curves of her butt cheeks as overall her tanned body exudes sexuality, the exotic dress just capping her erotic appearance.  The pair of black five and a half inch stiletto heels only adds to the chiseled shape of her athletic legs, the slender gold bracelets affixed to her wrists, ankles with a matching gold band circling her neck completing her wardrobe as elaborate restraints.

       Fitted, stuffed into the dress after being prepared by the blonde, her hair formed into a bun tightly woven above her head, her makeup impeccably applied with the bright red lipstick contrasting with her brilliant blue eyes, the Elder’s pair of bodyguards has escorted her to his private, invitation only gathering in a reception area of the ship well over an hour ago.  Required to exhibit herself in front of the curtain covering the wall between the pair of entrances to the hall, she’s been standing statuesque between the two black robed men, the same men who sank their shafts into her the day before, the same that flogged the redhead last night.

       Nervously waiting as the Elder’s guests in the conference room slowly arrives, intermingles, she frets over the fresh aches and cramps surpassing the residuals of her recent abuses that have already pretty much subsided. The added tenderness of her breasts, the churning in her stomach, the tinge of nausea, all caused by that familiar monthly female curse combined with her excruciatingly painful inherited family trait of Dysmenorrheal is pointing toward a very probable humiliating experience.

       Knowing her birth control regimen, the obvious familiar discomforts of her time of month, she’s almost certain by the sharp flashes of wrenching contractions she’s less then an hour or maybe even minutes away from nature taking its course.  The added anxiety of the past few days certainly hasn’t helped, obviously intensifying the problem as her anguished thoughts also drift back and forth on what’s going to be expected of her shortly, what she’s going to be subjected to, even with the oncoming circumstances of her female disorder.  The short cramps intermittent, still some time apart, she agonizingly keeps her eye on the room filling with the Elder’s guests, hoping she can make it through whatever he has in store for her before it invariably happens.

       Remaining obediently motionless, her duel purpose to also suppress the contractions, she silently waits as the time slowly passes while the contingent of men in the conference room continues to swell, most taking time to inspect her like some kind of door prize.  Her practically naked body already glistening from the humidity, the mugginess of the filling room just adds to her discomfort, her nausea, as she stares past the men, isolating her attention toward the thick rugs draping the rear wall. 

       The waiting finally passing, her perspiring body trembling as most of the contingent has found their seats, the room quiets with most eyes glancing her way, transfixed on her exotic looks as she’s directed forward toward the center of the floor, surrounded by the tables positioned along the three walls facing inward.  Quickly glancing toward the Elder seated in the middle of the center table, she feels her stomach churning, her body aching but thankfully between cramps that’s still spaced apart as she awaits his attention. The two men stepping away from her, walk back toward the wall, leaving her standing alone on the Persian carpet as they turn and position themselves by the curtain.  The music rising in level, an obviously Arabic style beat, she senses almost every eye in the room now on her

       “Dance!”  The elder’s eyes gleam as he stares forward, barely nodding his head.  “Dance well for me and my guests!... Let that body escape the confines of the dress by your movements… Entice us… Dance until you’re naked and the music ceases, Amy… Or it’s a quick trip back down to the discipline area… Now dance… Dance until you’re exhausted!”

       Given a couple brief belly dance lessons jammed into her first couple days on board, she instantly thinks back to those few minutes of time.  Gently, slowly beginning to sway, her hips gyrate back and forth as she stares back toward the elder’s returning lewd glances while she desperately tries to ignore the initial stages of her nausea, cramps, also the threat of punishment.  Trying to concentrate on the music, to also ignore the leers, the number of humiliating comments of the men crowding the back three sides of the tables surrounding her, turning, twisting, she raises her swaying arms, lowers her head while provocatively dipping her face forward, down between her out thrust breasts.  Her bare nipples already exposed above the stretching material, her cheek brushes past the rounded curve of her left breast as the swaying globe flips completely out across the gold seam.  Twisting, weaving to the beat, her hemline also stretches upwards, slipping up around her wavering hips, exposing her fine as silk pubic hair neatly trimmed around the still puffy folds of her bruised labia.

       Continuing her seductive moves to the music as she’s humiliatingly forced to flash everything she’s got in front of the ensemble of enticed men, the terrifying thought of the redhead’s ordeal that’s still going on down in bowels of the ship flashes through her mind. Apprehensively trying to concentrate on entertaining the onlookers, on pleasing the Elder, struggling to keep her balance in the exaggerated heels, she twists, turns, the gold cuffs glistening from her wrists, ankles, neck.  Hips swaying, she lets her stomach roll like a gentle wave from just below her swaying globes to mid thigh, her bellybutton flexing, her abs rippling as her long legs seductively glide in her not so bad version of a belly dance.

       Continuing to gyrate across the floor, her left breast flipping free again as she leans forward, the exposed rounded globe bounces over the gold stitching of the plunging hem line as she arches back, her humility overshadowed by her nervousness.  Continuing to glance occasionally toward the Elder as she arches, sways, the skimpy dress continues to drop across her arms, also riding well above her gyrating hips, wrinkling, collecting across her flexing belly button.  Her symmetrical breasts jaunting outward, both swaying free, her body layered in perspiration erotically glistens in front of the crowded tables.

       Staring forward, keeping her eyes focused just above the heads of the leering men, concentrating her sight on the various Arabic designs of the thick drapes carpeting the walls in their backgrounds, she provocatively twists and contorts with the sounds of the shrieking music.  Obediently dancing non stop to the first couple, three tunes of the Mid Eastern instruments, she performs from one side of the room to the other, working her now virtually naked body to the brink of exhaustion.  The minutes slowly ticking by, her blondish hair unraveling from atop her head brushes across her shoulders, mats to her forehead as she finds herself struggling to keep her drenched body in a seductive rhythm.  Each breath of air almost stifling, the odor of the tobaccos, the crowded confines of the hall filled with perspiring men leaves an acrid stench in the air, an especially nauseating stench for her condition.

       By the forth song, her sheer dress soaked, practically ruffled together around her hips, the straps having long slipped, dropped below her elbows, her gleaming body’s now virtually naked as her struggling motions become noticeably more abbreviated.  Her bare breasts sway, now longer bounce, her arms reach, no longer stretch as she still determinedly forces her body to continue to dance, though slower, as her gyrations wind down in front of the semi-circle of tables.

       Finally, the speakers become silent.  Trembling, practically slumping to the floor as she falls to her knees across the rug, her head slowly lowers as she nearly regurgitates, tastes the acidity in her throat.  Grunting as she feels the initial contraction of a serious cramp deep in her womb, her breasts heaving with each rasping breath, her hands slip down across her soaked thighs, frantically reaches and grips her constricting stomach as she can barely glance up through her damp matted hair toward the Elder.  Trying to catch her breath, to fight off the inevitable, the room’s almost steamy; eerily quiet as she breaths in, out, in again, in rhythm until the cramp passes.

       Giving her a couple minute respite without actually knowing her predicament, finally nodding, pointing a finger toward the wall behind her, the Elder speaks.  “After you catch your breath Amy, approach the golden pony…  Show my guests and me how well you look mounted on it, naked… Then receive its gilded shaft between your thighs like you did last night… Only this time in your cunt… Then ride it like the whore you are, in rhythm to the music.”

       The ominous order resonates through her exhausted mind as her already rapid heartbeat escalates, but the contractions thank God, fading.  Glancing back over her shoulder, almost unbelievingly, she can practically feel the phallus inside her, much like the one that nearly tore her apart the night before.  The black robed men having swung the curtain aside, a gold, gilded saddle’s displayed above the floor.  A phallus, long in length, thick in girth jaunts what must be at least a foot upwards from its center.  The gold gilded saddle gleams under the lights, strangely beautiful in a way, yet the huge gold phallus portentous.

       Remaining sloped over, breasts swaying free beneath her arched torso while still in somewhat of a daze, she exhaustedly watches the robed men step behind her, one grip her hands, her wrists from behind, the other slip her stilettos from her feet.  Arms forced around behind her, her wrists raised up behind her neck, the gold cuffs are clamped to the rear of the matching chocker collar with her hands immediately crisscrossed up behind her shoulders.  Naked breasts forced to thrust out even further, beads of moisture tracing across her swaying global melons drip off her twitching nipples, across her thighs as she feels herself lifted upward from the carpet, the remnants of the expensive dress stripped down off her hips, across her now bare feet.

       Forced to turn, walked toward the apparatus, the closer she gets, the larger the glistening phallus rising up from the saddle appears.  Led around, positioned behind the mount, she’s forced to face forward toward the center of the tables, toward the Elder.

       “When the music commences… Mount and begin your dance… Show us how you can work those magnificent titties!”  He orders, almost quietly, before adding.  “Don’t worry… You will be assisted onto it since your arms are shackled behind your back… And you will be aggressively motivated to dance… With the straps across those breasts from either side if necessary… Take a moment to collect yourself… Remember the discipline chamber… Nod when ready!”

       Glancing from one side to the other, noticing the damp leather straps in each man’s fist beside her, her heart races, pounding in her chest as she again glances down toward the obscenely large phallus, glistening with moisture, at least half again larger then the butt hook forced deep into her rectum the night before.  Again the ache between her thighs escalates as her stomach churns.  Subconsciously pressing her trembling legs together, the room remaining deathly silent, she struggles not to think of what the pain will be like, especially knowing the cramps will be even more devastating if induced by that shaft.  Not wanting to move, but sensing a strap being threateningly swung beside her, she bites her lip, slowly, almost apprehensively steps toward the rear of the saddle as she stares downward between her swaying breasts.  Finally, a deep breath before she barely glances from one bodyguard to the other, apprehensively nods her head.

       The music begins, softer, slower then the previous collections.  Feeling her thighs, forearms gripped, her legs spread apart, she finds herself being lifted, straddled across the rear of the gilded saddle.  Hoisted even higher over the simulated shaped knob molded somewhat thicker then the shaft, she feels it pressing across her sore vulva, squeezing between her spreading labia as her bare breasts sway, bounces as her body’s manipulated.  Wiggling, squirming, she feels the solid shaft consuming her sore vagina, stretching at the ultra tender walls as it glides between her moist thighs.  Her torso jaunting outwards, her breasts continue to bounce side to side as she’s roughly positioned onto the thick shaft, harshly lowered across the gleaming saddle.

       The shaft feels even stiffer, thicker then it appeared as it presses painfully inward, six, eight inches. Just as she’s sure it can’t glide in any further; she feels her thighs spread even further apart from both sides by the men’s manipulating hands, her buttocks forced to jerk downward another couple inches, the cheeks pressing onto the curved surface of the gilded saddle.  Grunting, her legs bowed, the balls of her feet barely grip the carpet as her fingers clinch into fists behind her neck, her head tilting forward as she grunts.  Glancing through her matting hair toward the Elder as her arching, twisting body strikes an erotic serpentine pose, she forces herself to painfully wiggle, to gyrate, to secure her aching vagina around the thick metal twisting deep inside her as she slowly begins to somehow slowly grind to the awful music, fearfully anticipating the next gut wrenching contractions.

       Glaring forward, still catching the sights of both dangling straps from the corners of her eyes, she somewhat quickens the pace, grunting to herself each time as she tries to block the inevitable pain, to try to still move seductively to the rhythm of the music even as the shaft impaling her feels as if its pressing against her navel.  Lips pouty, her stringy hair swaying, sticking across her shoulders, her bloated tummy pushes outward around the outline of the tip of the phallus inside her as her hips and shoulders arch backward.  Riding the thick metal shaft, beginning to feel the humiliating sensation of the tingling of her clit stretching in and out with the motion of her hips, she experiments with her movements, trying to relieve the chance of forced contractions as she gently raises and lowers herself on the balls of her feet.

       Her breasts riding high on her chest sway gently apart as they softly bobble, her areolas and nipples spread out flat and shinny, pointing in almost opposite directions as they jiggle in rhythm with her butt cheeks grinding across the saddle.  Trying to appease the Elder and his guests, desperate to avoid the flogging across her breasts, her nausea mounting, she closes her eyes, grunts as she raises and lowers herself in a hectic rhythm.

       The room still quiet except for the music, the men’s transfixed as Amy rides the golden pony, her naked body glistening, perspiring in the humidity, gyrating, provocatively contorting as her highlighted hair sways in unkempt strands around her shoulders, across her hazing eyes.  Parts of her naked body shine, almost golden itself.  Reflections shimmer off her hollowed stomach directly under her heavy globes as three, four, then five inches of the golden shaft appears, disappears, reappears at a quickening pace, erotically ramming between the stretching folds of her labia, casting more golden reflections while her exhausted body curls and twists to the music.  Her trembling knees bending, her glistening thighs and calf’s flexing around the gilded saddle, she senses the next wave of cramps gnawing deep inside, the cramps in her womb.   

       The men in black robes positioned beside the saddle, straps in hands concentrating on her tantalizing, swaying bare breasts have appeared almost eager to lay the leather across her global melons thrust out in front of them, bouncing in rhythm off her bare chest to the continuous beat of the music.  Glancing occasionally toward the Elder, awaiting a signal as his hands remain below the table between the folds of his robe, the men keep the dangling leather straps at the ready.

       Well into the second song, trembling, a debilitating contraction jolts her stomach, tying her womb in knots.  Barely able to continue to grind across the saddle as each quickened breath’s a hoarse rasp, each movement a searing pain, Amy’s eyes almost glare toward the Elder with her head tilted forward, her naked body bordering on spasms.  Shoulders thrust back with her breasts jaunting outward; her nipples quiver as she grunts, fights the searing pain deep inside.  Tiptoeing, driving her hips downward, aggressively twisting as the shaft rams even deeper, the hated music burns in her ears.  Heart pounding, her pain and fear almost suddenly turning to anger, she sits, lowers her eyes between her heaving breasts as she grits her teeth, feels the unbearable contraction ripping through her insides as she tries to remain motionless, every muscle in her body tensing.

       The slightest nod from the Elder, both straps instantly curl through the air. 
“Thhhwwwwaaacckkk!”  The resounding sound of the pair of damp leather straps flattening across the outer globes of both her swaying melons resonates throughout the room.

       “Ooooommmmpphhh!”  A loud grunt emits from between her parched lips, her hair flailing across her face as she continues to tilt her head forward, grinding her teeth as she thrusts her chest even further outward with that inflicted pain practically meaningless, almost taking from the searing pain deep inside.  Her flogged breasts bouncing together, reddish splotches instantly marring the outer curves of both as she quivers, sinks deeper onto the phallus, unnoticed traces of blood begin to trickle down across the golden shaft.

       “Thwack… Thwack!”  The straps slam into her right, left breasts again, flattening both areolas, nipples.

       “Oomph!”  Another grunt as she leans even further forward, raising a few inches off the saddle, her body more then trembling as again she rams harshly downward with an audible grunt, her bruised breasts bouncing, springing upward just beneath her locked, firm jaw.  Eyes becoming narrow slits, still fixed on the floor straight in front of her as more then a trickle of her blood drips across the saddle from her oozing vagina, her womb pounding, pulsing through its contraction.

       Almost in spite, arching, clenching her fists behind her back as she thrusts her bruised globes forward, she stares from one reddened breast to the other before glaring toward the man to her left, then to the right.  Making eye contact through her squinting eyes, gnawing on her bottom lip, her mouth silently forms the words flashing through her mind.  “Fuck you…Motherfucker!” 

       “Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!!!”  Back and forth, both men alternately deliver curling blows from the flexing leather straps across her bouncing, flailing breasts as the dampened leather flattens across her naked flesh.  “Thwack!...Thwack!... Thwack!!!”

       Twisting, swaying, a now noticeable flow of blood trails down from the corner of the saddle, dripping to the floor as her head jerks back and forth.  Hips flinching, jerking upwards, thrusting back down to engulf the impaling phallus in her swollen, crimson soaked vagina, her naked body curls above the saddle, bucks uncontrollably as she slams downward, arches, slams downward again as her breasts flail across her having chest, until she again sits defiantly still.  Swollen eyes glaring, her discoloring breasts still defiantly arched forward with the imprints of the leather straps overlapping across the outer curves of the rounded globes,  tears streak off her cheeks, mixes with a trace of mucus trailing from her nostril, drips across her chest as she emits an animalistic grunt, scream.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  One more time grinding her hips up across the saddle, ramming the phallus deeper into her spasm wracked womb one last harsh thrust as the slurping sounds of her fresh blood pressing between her thighs and saddle resonates between the men. Her naked body contorts, slumps forward as she goes limp, unconscious.  The robed men glance toward one another, toward the Elder, each gripping an arm as the music stops.

       Nodding, pointing, a frown on his face, the Elder notices the mess, has the men hoist her up from the crimson stained saddle.  Slid up and off by her hips, her back arched upwards, her global, but now elongated breasts hang down, swaying back and forth across her tilted face slumping down between her shoulders.  The golden shaft’s retracted from her bleeding vagina, her inner thighs also stained red, glistening wet.  Carried from the room, unconscious as she willfully struggled to become, she didn’t realize she’d only be carried back down to the bowels of the ship, to the discipline area.

       In a matter of minutes, her naked body’s carried into the chamber, past the various torture devices, into the glass booth just recently evacuated by the redhead.  The booth still wet inside, not washed or sanitized, the pair of bodyguards affixes her naked body across the metal slates, binding her face up, spread-eagled and bowed.  Waiting for the Elder and a select number of his guests, they leave her naked body un-cleansed, blood still smeared across her inner thighs, still dripping from her widely spread slit as they patiently wait to finish her preparations.

       Her head twisting, the bitter odor of the snapping capsule jolts her awake.  Arched spread-eagled on her back, feeling the narrow metal slates crisscrossing her bowed backside, she stares wide eyed at the pair of men finishing her bindings inside the booth.  Glancing back and forth, the glass door open to the discipline area, her fear overrides the pain of her contractions as she frantically struggles to free herself, her stark realization of where she’s at and what’s going to happen.

       Feeling the leather sliding over her hair, tugged across her forehead, her eyes, she grunts as the stretching latex covers her nose and mouth.  Pitch black, hardly able to breath, the bottom of the bondage hood fastened around her neck, she frantically struggles.  Feeling the tube slid into the mask, between her lips, she can only grunt as her naked body arches, twists on the very apparatus where she just recently witnessed the redhead’s torture.  Feeling a hard red rubber ‘O’ ring being harshly forced into each of her stretched orifices between her spread thighs, she can hear the glass door shutting, sealed.  Twisting her masked head back and forth while barely able to flex her fingers or toes, her heart races as she struggles to breathe, anticipates what she’s facing, replays her glances inside the booth at the redhead’s treatment, nauseated at the thought that she’s now the redhead.

       Standing just outside the booth, the Elder twists the handle on the wall to yellow, flips a switch.  Streams of water spurt out of several outlets splashing across Amy’s naked body.  Twitching, jerking, she feels the high pressured lukewarm water glancing off her breasts, pounding between her painfully spread thighs, drenching her aching vagina as the splashing water turns crimson as it drains.  Feeling another directed stream of water spurting against the top of her bondage hood, the sounds ringing in her ears, the drenched hood adheres even tighter across her covered face.

       Quietly observing, reaching for the knob, twisting it to red, the Elder watches as the water quickly slackens, almost instantly spurts again, a misting steam rising from the spray.  Watching her naked body bow, arch in her bindings as the water streaks across her naked flesh, he twists another knob, adjusts the spray to release just a little harsher.  Her breasts appearing to pulse, her nipples jerking back and forth, the water splashes off the inner portions, outer portions of her thrust out globes as they waver back and forth under the pressure.  Her bare flesh turning a slight crimson shade as she arches her naked body, the steam collects toward the top of the chamber.  Legs and arms stretching under their restraints, her fingers, toes clench in sequence with the pulses of water as her gapped vagina, rectum already filled, begin draining torrents across the drain in the floor.

       Slowly flipping the knob to green, he interestedly observes the steam almost instantly cease, as again the water slackens, then spurts.  Glancing at the thermometer on the booth, just over a hundred and ten degrees, he can see the hand slowly lowering, reversing downward in its long arc.  Inside the booth her reddened body quivers, her wet, steaming flesh morphing into a lighter shade, in just a few minutes beginning to frost over.  The pulsing, below freezing salt water spurts flecks of ice, sticking, collecting across her numbing torso, stretched limbs, the water draining from her overflowing orifices quickly becoming small, narrow cycles of ice before swelling into a combined cycle under the relentless spray.

       Setting the timer to five minute increments of hot and cold, allowing several others to collect around the frosting window of the booth’s entrance, he takes a step to the side to also enjoy watching her reactions, her torment as her naked body stretches, contracts, her tendons, muscles taut under her reflexively quivering flesh.

       The ravaging range of temperatures shocking her bare flesh, her global breasts harden, her thick nipples standing straight upward turning bluish with her round globes more of a light frost as her bare breasts turn to a pair of freezing mounds of ice.   Water collecting in her navel, filling her hollowed stomach, turn into a flat sheet of ice as she soon becomes that naked ice sculpture much like the redhead earlier.

       Watching the various cycles, back and forth, her body freezing, reddening, steaming, only to repeat the cycle again and again, the booth’s window steams, thaws, steams again as the group of men continue to watch the incredible naked body contorting, struggling from the heat between arching and stiffening from the cold.

       Barely able to breathe, at times feeling as if she’s drowning in the drenched mask, her alternately frozen, scorched body’s wrecked in pain inside and out.  On the inside, her contractions still twists knots deep inside her womb, antagonized by the water engulfing, distorting her ravaged orifices, freezing, swelling deep inside her bowels, before heating, melting, gushing out past her spread thighs.  On the outside, the freezing, searing of her naked flesh is as just painful as she’s turned to ice, thawed, her breasts alternately frozen numb, scolded, numbed again.   Her psychosomatic torment’s hideous, her ravaged mind silently screaming between the countless layers of steaming water and frozen ice shocking her naked flesh inside and out.    

       A dozen cycles completed, the Elder flips the handle to yellow, allowing the lukewarm water to rinse her exhausted body.  Watching the booth clear, her tautly stretched body sprawled face up and bowed back, her stomach gently raising and lowering, breasts swaying toward her sides, he flips the light off, allows the booth to darken as he turns, watching the group of naked women being led into the main chamber for the daily discipline session.          

                    

End Part 4                 

          

                          

THE ESCORT

The physiological torment rises to at least the level of her physical abuse as she spends an extended period of time in the booth being disciplined by the Elder.  When done, she’s left in the custody of one of his bodyguards for a little more recreation.  

Chapter five

       Firmly mounted, spread and shackled on her backside across the rack supporting her naked body, its rotating frame’s occasionally adjusted toward different angles for various punishments as she’s repeatedly subjected to an array of the abuses the booth allows.  Tormented intermittently for countless hours, now well into her second day, in her blackened out silent environment, her mind constantly drifts between panic and helplessness with plenty of pain and anxiety, the actual time in the booth virtually immeasurable to her.  Even with the countless drenching, the constant evolving back and forth from the steamy heat or icy cold of the adjustable spurts of water, her flesh feeling scorched or frozen time and again, that agony’s compounded with some old fashioned abuse.

       Between being water tortured, among other punishments, she’s been subjected to serrated clover clamps tugged by swaying weights, various needle piercings and then, the occasional flogging, with the most recent just a couple hours ago, an especially excruciating breast whipping with a supple hickory switch across her nearly frozen breasts.  And, of course a number of sexual penetrations of her ravaged orifices have been in order by several of the Elder’s guests, even with the mounted ‘O’ rings and obvious flow of blood induced by her menstrual cycle, which for now has slowed, along with her subsiding cramps and contractions.

       For the moment, recently completing several extended cycles of the water torture, her body thawed but still saturated, she’s been rotated horizontally.  Facing upwards, her stretched limbs remaining numb for quite some time, the ever shrinking mask has become her hell, the shriveling latex seeming to form a tight second skin suppressing any sense of sight or sound, with the circular end of the breathing tube keeping her jaws spread open, the plastic oval pressing across her swollen tongue.

       The insides of the booth remain wet, water dripping from its walls forming puddles across the floor as a spurt of urine trickles from between her legs.  Her bound hips spread wide; she’s well past the point of actually attempting to control the discharge of her bodily function as it mixes with the water gurgling down the drain underneath the apparatus as it does whenever her bowels have a movement.  Again, with the constant shocks to her naked body and the repeated flushing’s of her spread orifices, a number of times she doesn’t even realize its happening.

       Stepping into the booth and shutting the glass door, a thin willowy hickory switch in hand, simple but extremely effective with its bark stripped away, the Elder flicks it back and forth as he watches the final yellow drip from her gapping slit.  Flexing the branch, dipping its tip down into the water, he glides it across her ribcage, across her twitching bellybutton, up the hollowing slope of her stomach.  Leaving a faint trail through the beading moisture as he presses the tip downward into her quivering flesh, he lets it bend, scrape against her sternum before sliding it back and forth, up and down the sloping valley of her twin globes, letting the tip tickle each nipple in turn.  Glancing at her reflexively clinching fingers, curling toes, he smiles as he realizes she’s quickly learned the switch’s touch, even though this is only the second session with the same switch, but this time though, her breasts not frozen.

       Again letting the bending switch rest against her sternum, leaning over her thawed, wet breasts, silently counting the layers of narrow red stripes across the global mounds and puckered nipples, he looses count at about a dozen each.  The marks, though not profound are actually slender welts left across her bare flesh even though her breasts were frosted, nearly frozen at the time.  Now, its time to see what kind of markings will be left by the same switch across her wet, but thawed melons.

       Guiding the switch across her naked torso, he notices mists of steam still rising off her bare flesh.  Tickling her armpit first, he takes turns flicking the tip of her out thrust stiff nipples one at a time before momentarily tapping gently into the tiny cove of her quivering navel to give her a little something to think about in her isolated darkness.  Once again tapping her left nipple a little firmer, circling the aroused bud a couple slow trips around the shriveling areola with the very tip of the hickory, reaching down and tweaking the firm tanned flesh between his fingernail and thumbnail, twisting and tugging it upward, he releases the hardened nub, watches her breast quiver as she’s obviously anticipating what’s next.  Bending the switch into the palm of his left hand, he curls it back into a tight loop as he watches her stomach heave, her breasts trembling, jaunting outward off her expanding ribcage.

       Just a little tighter grip, bending it back a little further, he watches her breasts quivering, thinking to himself how terrified, frustrated her face must look beneath the mask with her blind anticipation.  Waiting a few seconds while listening to the muffled grunts coming from the front of the glistening mask as her head turns side to side, the latex expanding and contracting around the cheek areas, her bare nipple appears to actually pulse as it stands straight upright as he finally releases the tip of the curling hickory.

       “Smack!”  The switch curling forward, flicks downward striking the drenched flesh.  “Mmmuuummmppphhh!”  Animalistic mutters emit from the glistening black bondage hood as it jerks upwards, twists side to side, still stretched tightly across her head, face.  Her torso bucking, arches even further upward, hands becoming tight fists as her bare breasts flail across her heaving chest.  Glancing down at the switch, then at its target, he again smiles as her hips uncontrollably  jerk at the bindings, her thighs trembling, her engorged clitoris gleaming wet, a tinge of blood, not from her menstrual cycle, but from the red welt left by the flexing switch just applied across her vagina.

       The sharp unexpected lashing of her clitoris sends shockwaves through her womb, shivers up her spine.  Her pitch black confinement of the stifling hood, the inability to hear, now the sadistic manipulation of her senses by whipping her across her already throbbing vagina, stinging the very nub of her clitoris as she was somehow trying to prepare for the excruciating but expected pain across her manipulated breast, mentally crushing her psyche.  Physically, spasms ripple across her arched torso, her bare breasts, and her taut thighs.

       “Thwack!”  The switch bends across the outer edge of her left globe as he administers another unexpected blow.  “Thwack!”  Her right melon receives attention almost instantly, a similar lashing as he backhands the damp, curling switch horizontally up over the washboard outline of her heaving ribcage.  The metal frame beneath her rattling, her body bucks upwards, sideways.  Almost relentless, he continues flexing the switch, releasing it.  “Thwack!... Thwack!!!”  Her left, then right areolas feel the stinging tip of the damp hickory, both nipples creasing under the burrowing switch, crisscrossed with rising welts as he moves nimbly around the confines of the booth.  “Thwack!”

       “Mmmmuuummmppphhh!!!”  Another guttural grunt emerges from the glistening mask, again her head jerking upward, rearing back as flecks of moisture flick off her naked skin, across the booth, spraying against the glass partition as the group of onlooker’s crowd around the other side, eagerly watching the switching.  “Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!!!”  His fingers grip, release the bowing switch as he steps around the apparatus, applying welt after glistening welt across her naked flesh.  “Thwack!... Thwack!!!”

       Each searing stroke across her bare breasts dancing continuously above her chest resonates throughout her taut body, sounding like a resounding, thumping echo in the confinements of the contracting latex mask, her tortured mind unable to keep track, count.  Helpless, defenseless, absolutely no control, none, the stinging pain rips through her tortured breasts like hot pokers, electrical shocks.

       On the verge of hysterics, the reflective movements of her flailing breasts with each crisp snap of the hickory even adding to her agony, her vagina still pulsing from the single lashing of her searing clit, her ravaged mind’s almost to the point of her somehow crawling out of her tortured body and curling inside the darkness of the hood, to get away from the endless administering of the crippling pain.

       Lowering the switch, glancing across her trembling breasts rising and lowering with each heaving breath, he’s satisfied with the results.  The fresh red welts layered across the previous application also haven’t broken the skin, won’t permanently mar her perfect globes.  Turning toward the opening door, he hesitates, the switch already bent in his fingers.  Smiling as he leans over her trembling body, he releases the tip one last time.  “Thwack!”  Stepping toward the glass door he can barely hear her muffled scream.

       “Mmmuuummmppphhh!!!”  Again the pain rips through her naked body, deep into her bowels, her contracting womb as she lurches upwards confined in her restraints.  Again a spurt of urine trickles across the wet floor with a slight tinge of crimson as her raw clit vibrates, her vagina spasms from its second sadistic lashing of the hickory.

       Flipping the handle to yellow, he hears the spraying of the pulsing jets as the water spurts across her naked body.  Glancing through the glass partition into the booth, he lets her mind anticipate the natural sequence, knows her body soon will be contorting as she tries to mentally prepare for the next drastic change in water temperature.  This time though, the water will stay lukewarm for a while, actually in a series of massaging pulses to relieve the residual aches and pains of his just administered switching.

       Turning the light inside the booth to dim, leaving one of his bodyguard at the glass door, he turns toward the discipline area, walks past the vacant apparatuses with his small contingent, toward the exit to the hallway, elevator.  Soon the auction begins again on the top deck.  Time to get another fresh slut he thinks to himself… Hopefully another American… Maybe even to introduce into interacting with Amy… When she’s released from the booth later on, that is.

       Standing at the front of the booth, glancing in the cleared glass as the chamber’s now emptied except for a trio of maintenance personal having arrived to clean the area, prep the apparatuses and various instruments soon to be used for the next discipline session, he allows the water to spray across her for several more minutes.  Reaching up, turning the handle to ‘Off’… He opens the door.

       Stepping inside, he stands next to the booth’s apparatus, close to Amy’s naked body.  Having deep throated her a couple days before, he glances down toward the glistening ’O’ rings spreading the rims of her orifices.  Sliding his left hand across her inner thighs, feeling the reflective twitch of her wet, bare flesh, he grips the bottom ring, tugs it slowly outward from her dripping rectum.  Laying it across her stomach, her sunken navel, he grips, twists the matching ring from her soaked vagina, tugging the hard rubber out from between her spread thighs.  Laying it atop the first ring, he takes his time glancing over her spread slit.  Labia lips widely spread; the dark tunnel of her vagina seems to pulse as her puckered rectum’s not quite as tight from the constant stretching the past couple days

       Dropping the oval rings onto the floor against the edge of the wall, unlocking the handle on the side of the rack, he tilts the closest end downward to rotate her naked body upright, clicks the handle to lock.  Her body facing him, her breasts barely sag, still thrusting firmly outward, glistening, dripping droplets of fresh water from her crimson welted nipples as her arms and legs remain tautly stretched in their spread-eagled position.  Glancing her up and down, sliding his open hands across her outside curves and pinching along the way, between her spread thighs and pinching, gripping squeezing, melding her rounded globes before pinching her nipples, he slips his robe open.

       Having felt the rack being adjusted upright, with what’s left of any sanity, she realizes she’s not going through another water cycle, her naked flesh having at least a momentary reprieve from the torturous drenching.  Feeling hands roaming her body, the sharp annoying pinches, her breasts fondled, even harsher pinches, she lets her covered head slope forward, hang down between her spread breasts, mumbling, grunting from the unwarranted torment.  Her breasts released, the next sensation is of her vagina being manipulated with her vaginal lips spread apart, a warm, thick shaft forcing its way inside her.

       Accepting, yet bracing for another fucking, feeling this pulsing shaft being forced inward at a deliberately slow pace, the girth seems almost preposterous, more like a phallus yet obviously actually muscular as she also feels a bare chest pressing, flattening her breasts.  The shaft continuing inward stretches her vaginal muscles, the swelling head engulfing, pressing inward ever deeper, practically scraping against her womb before being held momentarily still, slid slowly outward.  Again stopping, remaining motionless, his shaft still at least half buried inside her, she feels the constant pulse of his thick cock, his thighs between her pressing forward, the shaft actually stiffening as he flexes it, swelling, stretching her vaginal walls that’s’ already tightly gripped around his manhood as the head of his shaft again presses against her womb.

       Slipping his spread hands across both sides of the latex mask, holding her head upright between his palms; he continues his slow but firm penetration of her widely spread, readily accessible vagina.  Each stroke and his shaft glides tightly inward just a tad deeper, each time retracted about half way out, her sore clitoris dragging along his pulsing shaft to reappear with each extraction after disappearing with each penetration.  His robe open, his bare muscular chest pressing against her aching globes, the constant grinding begins to massage her thickening nipples, the combined sensations somehow stimulating her most sensitive flesh.

       Firmly held by both the rack’s shackles and his bare hands, her arms and legs long numb, her multitudes of pain consuming the rest of her naked body subsides, replaced by the soothing, constant penetrations in and out, in and out, the girth of his shaft seeming to swell even thicker if possible, plow in even deeper if possible.  Her nipples becoming hyper sensitive, tingles not burn as they’re flattened and stretched against his bare chest.  The minutes, hours, even days of pain, torture are momentarily replaced by the sensations sweeping through her aroused, stimulated female organs, the cramps, contractions of her medical condition exercised for another month.

       Feeling her wet, naked flesh against his, pressing firmly back against her incredible body, his deep strokes flow in and out, his rhythm remaining constant as her vagina feels like a tight, moist glove stretching his foreskin back and forth on his pulsing shaft.  Hips swaying, quivering as he leans his chest across her firm but succulent ripe melons, he still tightly grips the latex hood, hearing her wheezing with the front of the mask fluctuating in and out as she breaths in rhythm to his strokes.

       Legs beginning to tremble, the familiar stirring down between his thighs, he realizes he’s about ready to release his load, the head of his shaft twitching, almost painful with each added thrust as her stretched thighs trembles against his.  Head lowered, still gripping the mask, he notices the shadows of the three custodians cast across the glass partition.  Glancing out toward them, their appreciative smiles, he feels the release deep down inside.  The gush of his orgasm spurting through his pulsing shaft from deep inside her bowels, the head of his shaft twitching, releases his hot cum.   His body tensing, his muscles ripple as he holds firm, every couple moments twitching, releasing another spurt between her out trust thighs, her bare breasts being forced forward, pressing against his Pecs.

       A couple grunts, a few deep breaths and he steps away, his cum mixed with her dampness.  Her thighs, legs glisten as her naked body noticeably twitches as if she’s still trying to hump. Stepping out the door, nodding toward the three men, he turns toward the control panel to check the sprayer switches, flicks the one coinciding with the table’s upright position.  Water spurts from several angles, obviously centered mainly across her breasts and vagina.  The water soaking her naked body, gushing across the floor into the drain, he watches with the others as her body appears to continue to be stimulated by the pulsing spurts.

       “Well?”  He glances toward the three.  “No sense wasting a horny bitch… Especially one as hot as her!”  Again taking a glimpse of her quivering body, shutting the spray down, he adds.  “No one’s due back for at least another hour or so… Who’s next?”

End Part 5    

         

             

       

                               

THE ESCORT

Amy still confined to the booth, the bodyguard allows a little extracurricular activity by some crew members before the Elder returns.  Her session finally over, she’s transferred to the medical ward for some recuperation and body modifications by the ship’s doctor.

CHAPTER 6          

       Observing through the frosted, streaking glass of the chamber’s entry, the bodyguard watches with a tinge of amusement as the third and final worker, the shortest, runts between Amy’s spread thighs now that it’s his turn with her.  Harshly gripping her breasts, pressing against her naked body as he tiptoes, he arches forward with each thrust to plow awkwardly in, but only partially, his scrotum slapping freely between her spread thighs.  Her naked, glistening body trembles against his as he claws at her bare flesh trying to mount her.  Her fists clench, toes curl as her sheathed head jerks back and forth, side to side as his fingers grip, twist at her bruised globes as his feet leave the floor with each erratic thrust.

       Struggling on, in barely a couple minutes the worker’s body arches forward, presses harshly against her thighs as his head bucks back.  He releases his load.  Quivering, letting his hands slip from her swaying breasts as he stumbles to the floor, he slides his trousers up across his hips, zips his zipper as he silently turns and steps out of the booth, head lowered.  As he passes by, the bodyguard can’t help chuckling to himself as he reaches up and twists the handle controlling the spray.  Slowly shaking his head in amusement as he monitors the aligned angles of water beginning to cascade against, off her drenched profile, primarily the glistening black latex hood, her flailing breasts and the quivering flesh of her labia, his mood quickly changes as he can’t keep his eyes off her nude body quivering under the spurting water’s intensity.  Waiting for her to soak in hot water, then rinse with cold, another moment or two, he slowly turns the pressure down, again hesitating, giving a short burst of a hot, steamy mist just before turning it completely off.

       The floor covered with water while the drain gurgles beneath the upright apparatus, the flow slackens from off her bare chest, between her still quivering globes.  The glistening streams fade into crisscrossing trails off the front of her arched body, the sounds of the water splashing across the floor becoming just a spatter of drips from the remnants collecting across her puffy vulva, off the nubs of her out thrust nipples.  Her cleansed body shimmering under the dim lighting in the booth, his fingers still toys with the handle as he’s infatuated with her naked body stretched out in front of him, the urge to touch, explore it again.

       Turning, glancing toward the trio busy arranging their work clothes, each having taken their turn mounting, pounding her between her soakings, he smirks knowing none of the three even came close to measuring up to him, but then, they never do.  Just a quick nod acknowledges their obligatory thanks.  Releasing the lever he takes a moment, reaches onto the shelf beside the glass door.  Searching, finding the tube he’s looking for he steps back into the booth, the men all going about their business of preparing the rest of the chamber’s apparatuses, grateful, more then satisfied with their fringe benefits of the job, especially with someone as hot as Amy. 

       Sensing the water pressure slacking, shutting down, she again braces herself in the confines of the mask, the blackened out silent prison her mind’s forced to roam as she braces for what’s next… Maybe another fucking of her raw vagina... Or possibly a whipping... Or, the next water cycle turning hot, cold.  The psychological pressure again builds as she wants to scream, her tongue raw, her jaws, parched lips aching from the wide end of the plastic breathing tube crammed deep inside her mouth, pressing her cheeks even tighter against the stretched latex mask.  Lack of any nourishment for at least a day, maybe two, not even a drink of water has her on the verge of dehydrating, her empty stomach rumbling, nauseated, yet that pain overshadowed by the sadistic, unpredictable assaults on her defenseless body as her mind’s isolated in the stifling darkness.

       The apparatus being tilted back, she not only feels the sudden jerk as its locked parallel to the floor but also the swaying, jerking of her breasts above her bare torso.  Again on her back, her arms and legs completely numb as they’ve been for God knows how long, she feels hands on her bare body probing, gently caressing her wet flesh and actually massaging her torso with what feels to her like a soothing lotion.

       Knowing the Elder will soon be returning from the next auction, but still some time to kill, squeezing the tube he drips the concoction of lotion and oil across her thighs, her pubic mound.  Dropping the tube across the wet floor after rubbing a squirt of the cream between his hands, sliding both open palms up across her armpits, downward around the outer edges of her slightly discolored, swaying melons he melds her soft but firm flesh more for his own pleasure then hers.  Squeezing his fingers and thumbs around the bases of her bruised but still succulent breasts, sliding his hands upward, the twin globes flex.  Shimmering between his grips as he reaches their tan, glistening summit, lightly smoothing the creamy oil over the tip of her hardening nipples, pressing, flattening the eraser sized nubs down into her puffy areolas with his thumbnails; he feels her breasts quiver, tremble.

       Slipping his fingers just a little deeper onto her noticeably shriveling areolas he pinches, slides his hands apart, amusingly watches as her breasts slowly rotate in opposite directions, first swinging outward, the mounds then gliding back toward one another under his grip, the inner portions rubbing together above her sternum as he completes the circle with her thickened nipples.

       Releasing his grip, watching the round globes bounce, sway freely toward her sides, her nipples glistening from the melted lotion, he slides his open palms down across her ribcage, feeling the outline of each protruding rib until his fingers dip, slipping along the noticeably quivering slope into the hollow of her stomach, just above her flexing navel.  He can actually feel the hard muscles of her abs tensing to the touch of his fingertips tracing across her bare, damp flesh, the already poured lotion dripping between her thighs, soaking her already moist vagina.

       The sensations having resonated across her chest as she felt the firm but caressing manipulation of her breasts, the massaging and tweaking of her nipples, she’s unable to control her body’s spontaneous tremors.  Feeling the fingers tantalizing her bellybutton, her tightening stomach, she senses the fingers drifting ever closer to her pubic mound, her spread thighs.  She feels the fleshy folds of her labia caressed, her clit flicked back and forth, even more tingling lotion smoothed around, across the tender flesh circling her vagina, the cool, piquant cream squirted directly into her parted slit; followed by probing fingers sliding in and out, spreading the strangely cool yet tingling cream inside her.  Again she senses the tremors intensifying, the uncontrollable motion of her hips as the building spasms of her body shake across the slates of the apparatus beneath her, her bare breasts swaying above her.  The fingers gliding in and out of her trembling vagina manipulates her sore clit, the lotion edgy but soothing as the fingers gently massage the stiffening nub as its tweaked, melded, yet another drip or two of lotion spread around, into its swelling sensitive flesh as her thighs stretch wider, her pubic mound responds forward. 

       Desperately wanting to accept the gentleness of the massage, her body reflexively responding to the soothing manipulation of her naked flesh instead of contorting to repeated abuses, she still can’t help anticipating the worse, infliction of pain anywhere at any time.  Yet, even after the recent multiple, mostly clumsy penetrations of her stretched body, the pounding between her spread thighs over and over, the soothing lotion being gently applied across her aching breasts, her abused vagina, sends warm ripples spreading outward from the caressing, incredible  touches as her mind struggles.  The hours, even days without more then a few minutes of sleep at any time before being awakened by some sort of reprehensible torture, hallucinations and reality drift together as one, the gentle, caressing massage becoming a much needed psychological therapy as she drifts into an exhausted unconsciousness.

       Feeling her body relaxing beneath him, the tenseness disappearing underneath his massaging fingertips, he slides one hand up across her breasts, softly squeezing, melding as he keeps his other across and between her thighs.  His fingers gently roam her slit from her pubic mound to the crease of her butt cheeks, circling the rim of her rectum with his pinky while tweaking the nub of her clit with his thumb and forefinger.  Watching he naked body responding to his touch, her glistening torso gently raising and lowering with each lazy breath as he melds her breast,  he holds back to urge to slide his stiffening cock inside her again, knowing its about time for the Elder to return, to go the next step with her.

       Hearing the chamber being entered by a group, glancing out the door’s glass, he smiles to himself as he sees the Elder and other guests entering.  Wiping his hands, turning, he waits for the group to pass through the chamber toward the booth.

       Stepping into the booth, smiling toward the bodyguard in somewhat of a knowing, approving glance while giving a nod, the Elder leans toward the head of the rack, begins unbinding the mask.  Unzipping the hood beginning at the neckline, reaching behind her head stretching the latex, tugging it, twisting it up over her chin, nose, forehead, he hesitates a moment, nods toward the breathing tube.  Slipping it from her clenched teeth, spreading her jaws apart, the tube’s extracted, saliva and mucus drooling from her perched lips as the bodyguard flips the tube around the far side of the hood

       Awakening, blinking, eyes burning from the overhead light in the booth, she tries to focus, barely able to make out the bodyguard above her.  But, at last out from the mask, able to see!  The chloroform soaked rag in his hand, leaning over, he crams it across her mouth, nose.  The Elder gives a final couple tugs, stretches the latex from her matted, blonde hair, her face exposed for the first time in over two days as she gasps for breath.  Eyes rolling, her limbs remaining useless, numb, bound at the sides of the rack as her torso bucks, breasts bouncing, the acrid odor spreading through her lungs, the men above her, the room fading to dark.

       Again unconscious, her unresponsive body lays motionless as her wrists, ankles are unbound, dropped downward beside the apparatus as she’s still spread-eagled on the metal slats beneath her backside.  Eyes closed but puffy, her tanned complexion now reddish, compressed from the shrunken latex, her body from head to toe’s obviously been through a thorough workout.  Lifted from the rack by both bodyguards, placed on a gurney outside the booth, she’s wheeled from the chamber to the ship’s medical quarters.  Placed on a bed in a private area, IV’s attached to an arm, her wrists shackled to the bed’s side rails, a sheet’s placed across her naked body as she remains unconscious.  Closing the door, the camera’s red light flickering down from the ceiling, she’s left to rest, briefly, a few hours maybe, just for the IV’s to take effect, then a day, no more then two to recuperate… Times money!

       Monitored, hydrated, she’s kept well sedated for the satisfactory period, actually a generous amount of time, mainly do to her exceptional looks, the quality of her stock. Now its time to put her back on the clock, to get her back to work.  Cleaned up, the minor punishment applied across her bare flesh virtually healed, barely marring her incredible body, its time to escalate her torment, physically and mentally.  Now it’s just the planned out next step of her becoming one of the more profitable assets of the company for the long term foreseeable future.         

       Eyes fluttering, breasts and chest searing with pain, frantically glancing upwards with the realization that at least she’s no longer in  the chamber, her first conscious thoughts painfully focuses on the slender white ropes stretching down from the metal framework above the hospital bed.  Her body arched up off the mattress, her swollen breasts appear like purplish balloons on the verge of bursting as she feels her arms, legs tugged back, spread apart under her as she horrifyingly realizes her entire bodyweight’s being suspended by her tortured breasts.  Realizing the ship’s doctor’s standing beside the bed, recognizing him in his brilliant white uniform, she sees the obscenely large needle glistening in his clinched fist, a clear fluid dripping from its thick hollow tip as he reaches over above her bound breasts, cups her swollen globe with his free hand, jams, twists it deeply straight downward into the center of the engorged nub of the nipple.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Feeling it burrow, twist inside her bulging breast, almost hysterical, fists clenching, toes curling, glaring horrified at the long needle sinking into her, the tip of the syringe grinding, flattening into her areola, the burning pain overwhelms her as she chillingly realizes the nurse is handing him a second needle.  Watching wide eyed at him surreally gripping her other breast, ramming that glistening, dripping needle downward, a matching pain tears through her bulging globe.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”    The room spins, fades to darkness.

       A short restless, painful respite of unconsciousness, then again faint sounds fill the background, the bed rattling.  Eyes squinting open, again finding herself flat on her back, the ropes securing her impaled breasts now removed, she feels her legs being spread, hoisted above her, stretched toward the head of the bed past her still pulsing globes.  Maybe a pillow or two ruffled beneath her neck, she grips the bindings on her wrists as her feet stretch widely past her head, one then the other fastened tightly to the head rails.  Her buttocks forced upward toward her face, her gapping vagina practically touches her spread, pounding breasts, her stomach instantly squeamish as her eyes widen at the sight of the gleaming needles burrowed into each thick, engorged nipple trickling blood, standing out from her bruised globes.  Again recognizing the doctor, another huge syringe in his hand, she jerks, twists as her eyes are transfixed on that glistening, dripping needle being directed between her thighs, between his fingers stretching her labia folds apart.

       Tugging, twisting at her restraints, her eyes remain transfixed on the thick tip of the needle as it’s slid into her pinched clit, ramming, twisting as it seems to completely disappear clear up to the syringe.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Another pitiful screech, curdling scream.

       Searing pain as the needle twists, probes deep inside her.  Bright red spurts of blood squirt upward from between her spread thighs, the dark skinned nurse in her white gown dabbing alcohol soaked white clothes between her legs, around the needles impaling her breasts.  The burning fluid spreads through her vagina, to her womb wracked with pain as the sterile white room goes dark, everything fades, again.

       Awakening, almost fearful to open her eyes, she realizes her body’s bowed across the bed, heavy weights on her chest.  Pillows underneath her shoulders and hips arch her torso upwards as her wrists and ankles are again bound to the four corners of the bed. Apprehensively squinting her eyes, glancing quickly around the empty room, she instantly connects with the three clear tubes affixed to the three needles embedded in her, taped to her aching nipples and clit.  She can see the liquid slowly flowing downward from the trio of IV bottles hanging from the top braces above the bed.  Filling, engorging both breasts, the weight spreading them apart, she horrifyingly realizes what the heavy weights across her chest are, and they’ve taking the shapes of enormous melons, sagging toward her armpits.  She can only imagine what her clitoris looks like, unable to see above her arching body, but the abnormal weight between her thighs knots her stomach with apprehension.

       Tugging at her restraints, terrorized at the mutations of her naked breasts, her body trembles across the pillows, her swollen globes obscenely swaying, stretching across her arched chest as she feels the pressure mounting between her spread legs also.  An hour or more passing, awake and alert for an extended period of time for the first time in days, her mind still struggles with what’s real and what’s a nightmare.  Starring unbelievably toward her tautly stretching tit flesh, the needles appearing to pulse under the loosely sticking medical tape covering her throbbing punctured nipples as the fluid passes through, she feels the similar pain in her swelling clit as the room’s door swings open, the doctor entering with the nurse close behind.

       Stepping toward the bed, checking the lines hanging from the IV bottles one at a time, he checks the tape on her left breast, rips it off.

       “Oomph!”  The sharp pain of the tape tearing away quickly becomes even worse as he twists, jerks the needle upwards and out from her throbbing nipple.  “Aauugghh!”

       Blood spurting, the IV drips between her monstrous melons, the nurse efficiently swiping an alcohol swab across the wound.  Turning her head, closing her eyes as he reaches for the other IV’s line, she feels the tape tearing; the needle jerked around and out of her other breast.

       “Aggghhhhhh!!!”  Another shriek, the pain even more intense as the burning alcohol swab scuffs across that wound.

       Raising her head, glaring between her obscene breasts, she can’t quite see his hand between her thighs, but knows what’s going to happen.  Reflexively tightening her stomach, trying to press her thighs together, she feels the ripping and tearing of the tape, her body lurching up from the bed.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  A guttural scream as the tape rips from the left, right folds of her labia.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!”  A matching shriek as the needle’s jabbed, twisted, jerked from her pulsing clit, the searing alcohol swab pressed back and forth across her gapping slit.

       Quivering, her bare flesh stretching tautly across the defined outline of her protruding ribcage, abs rippling with each rasping breath, her head rears back across the mattress as she bites her lip, grunts.  Fingers flexing, digging into her palms as her fists repeatedly clench, the continuing nightmare ravages her anguished mind as she can’t help staring toward her huge breasts wobbling back and forth above her.        

       The doctor standing next to the bed lets the nurse discard the needles, IV’s as he has another syringe in hand.  Normal size, a quick prick of her arm and in seconds, her body relaxes, her eyes haze over.  Letting her lay quietly back across the pillows, he slips the top, then bottom one out from between the bed and her back, handing them to the nurse.  Unshackling her wrists, then ankles one at a time, he lowers her arms toward her sides, hands down against her hips as he loosely applies the wrist restraints again, giving her minimum motion.

       Leaning over her naked body, melding, manipulating her now at least DDD melons, he smiles toward the nurse as she steps beside him.  Reaching down with his right hand, his fingers gliding over Amy’s swollen clit, the size of a golf ball, he again nods, speaks.  “Feel that twat…  Go ahead.”  Patting her bare thighs as if she’s unconscious, barely paying her any attention, he knows she’s awake, just not totally coherent as her glazed eyes appear barely focused across her unrecognizable breasts.  “Go on… Touch it!”

       Hesitantly reaching out, lightly fingering the swollen, reddish mound stretching Amy’s spread labia folds apart, sliding her fingernail back and forth across the taut flesh, the nurse slowly shakes her head as she feels it quiver under her touch.

       “Sensitive.”  He smirks.  “Hypersensitive… That’s what the initial injection was for… before the solution was pumped in to fill it out… Just like her tits… These nipples…. Ultra sensitive when she’s fully awakened!”        

       Slipping his hand off her grapefruit sized breast, stepping a little forward, he nudges the nurse.  “Feel this tit, squeeze it… Pinch the nipple.”

       Glancing toward the Doctor’s smirking grin, slipping her hand around the outer global base of Amy’s obscenely bulging breast, she steps closer to the bed, lets her other hand slide from between Amy’s thighs, reaches across and grips her fingers around the inner portion of the same breast.  Stretching her fingers, thumbs into a circle, their tips lack inches of touching as her hands surround the taut round melon as she forces her hands together into the almost solid flesh.

       “Ga… God!”  She stutters!  “It feels like a bowling ball!”

       “Yea… Looks like one too!”  He grins as he taps the tip of the still oozing nipple pointing straight up off the translucently stretched areola.  “Feel this… Try to pinch it!”

       Leaning even closer, glancing down toward Amy’s blank stare, she slips her right hand up over the taut round globe, grips the swollen, hard nub of the tan nipple between her fingernail and thumbnail.

       “Damn!”  She utters, staring at the flesh between her finger, thumb as she tries to twist, tug it.  “It’s as hard as a rock, too!... Damn!”

       Tilting his head, nodding, he steps toward the door as the nurse follows.  Their backs to the bed, he mutters.  “Those tits and clit will stay like that all day…. After twenty-four hours or so, the solution will dissolve… She’ll be back to normal… No worse for wear.”

       Glancing back toward the bed, toward the almost caricature appearance of Amy’s naked body sprawled across the white bedspread, the nurse grins.  “Let me guess… You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

       “Actually… Yes and no!”  He smiles.  “You see… I’m going to let her worry for a few hours… Let the guests play with them for a session or two this afternoon after she’s auctioned again… Maybe this evening…  Then maybe let her try to sleep tonight… Then let her think I can keep them like that permanently… Or, see what she’s willing to do… How far she’ll go to be put back to normal!”

       “That’s evil, Doc!”

       “Yes… I know.”  He smiles as they shut the door behind them.  “Better yet, just a touch on those tits or her clit will be painful enough… Who knows what’s planned for them in her next sessions after her auction again.”
      

                     

       

       

          

               

          

        

            

       

       

THE ESCORT

After being given a short reprieve in the medical ward, her physical and physiological anguish has escalated to a new height in the steady quest to break her spirit, especially with a couple of alarming modifications.  Now, a new outfit and she’s run through her second auction, the winning bidder not only unexpected… But a sadist. 

Chapter 7

       Left alone for a couple hours while still groggy with the recent injection barely losing its effectiveness, laying on her back Amy can’t help from being transfixed with her modified breasts, her once perfect breasts.  Like a pair of balloons, heavy balloons rising and lowering, swaying back and forth with each anguished breath, wondering if she isn’t hallucinating, she barely realizes she’s not as her distended clitoris aches between her spread thighs.  Not knowing the amount of time that’s passed, day’s maybe even a week or more, she feels as if she’s sinking into a bottomless pit, never to be able to claw her way out, unable to escape as her body’s mutilated for their enjoyment.

       Kind of hearing the door to the room opening, glancing hazily toward the sound she watches several people entering together.  The doctor, the nurse, enter first, the tattooed blonde and even the redhead following close behind, one after the other approaching the bed.  Barely noticing the blonde carrying a stack of black latex clothing, wrists still shackled toward her sides on the bed, her hands with only inches of freedom to rise, twist, she can only lay her head back as the redhead steps forward, beside the bed with a black latex mask in her hand.

       Barely resisting as she feels the eyeless mask being slipped down over her head, obvious it’s been pre-molded close to the dimensions of her face as it’s snapped into place.  Positioned, adjusted, the mold fits snugly, the only outlets a couple small perforations for the nostrils and a double stitched oval for the mouth.  Its straps fastened beneath her hair behind her head, the latex stretches across her face like a second skin.

       Even sedated she can feel another prick of her arm as the doctor injects yet another drug concoction, one to revive her, bring her around.  In barely moments, her pulse rising, her heart pounds with the realization that she’s again in total darkness, again with that distraught feeling, the total helplessness of her predicament encompassing her mind as she realizes she’s obviously being prepared for another round of abuses.  Feeling the cuffs unshackled from her wrists, being forced to lean up on the bed, her heavy breasts tug downward, jerking her forward while swaying like a pair of overfilled water balloons.  She can only imagine what she must look like setting upright as her body’s twisted around.  Legs slid off the side of the bed, forced to stand with each wrist still firmly held down beside her, she feels talcum powder being sprinkled across her bare flesh by the nurse, rubbed swiftly but firmly across her shoulders down to her hips, preparing her to be dressed.

       Kneeling, the blonde slides the shimmering black latex bodysuit up across Amy’s legs one at a time.  Slipping the material up across her thighs, the hemmed cutoff legs stopping just below her butt cheeks, a stitched oval opening runs front to back totally exposing her swollen clit, vagina and rectum.  Continuing to stretch the material upward, a sewn in corset forces her stomach to shrink in even further then normal, almost to an impossible twenty-two inch waist line.  Tugging, twisting until the shimmering material stretches on across her trembling stomach, stretching the latex higher, aligning the pair of precut circular cutouts across her bulging globes, each breast’s left bare through the stretched hems of the latex.  Slipping the tapered remainder of the body glove on up across her chest leaving her shoulders bare, she fastens the outfit’s form fitting chocker collar around Amy’s throat.

       Twisting her around, inspecting the shimmering latex suit also as tight as a second skin, the material clings to her curves as her back, like her breasts also remains bare, all the way down to the gentle slope of her buttocks.  Standing, the blonde’s handed a foot long chrome bondage bar with leather cuffs on each end.  Circling Amy’s left arm just above her elbow, she secures a cuff.  As the nurse raises Amy’s right arm behind her, the blonde secures the second cuff from the other end of the bar above the right elbow.

       Handed a second chrome bar, a couple feet in length, also cuffs on each end, the blonde secures those cuffs to Amy’s wrists one at a time forcing her arms to spread down behind her in a ‘V’ angle.  The redhead meanwhile slips the six inch black stiletto heels onto Amy’s feet one at a time completing the outfit.  Turning her forward again, her butt cheeks scraping the side of the bed, she appears almost like a caricature of a bondage cartoon from the internet.  Masked, she stands in impossibly tall heels, her breasts larger then life, her waist narrower, stuffed in the skin tight black latex bodysuit with her arms bound to bars behind her back.

       The doctor steps forward, a black phallus type contraption in hand.  The same diameter of the oval mouth opening, he slips it toward the hole, twists it slowly into the sewn, cleverly threaded oval, spreading her lips apart.  At least three, maybe four inches in length, he twists it until the end’s just a fraction of an inch exposed, the rest engulfing her widening mouth. Snapping a black rubber four inch tube to it, a rubber pump bulb affixed to its other end, he pumps once, twice a third time until her cheeks noticeably swells against the latex stretched across her face.

       Almost numb, struggling to breath through the hollow tube pressed deep in her throat and pumped up, almost accepting her fate she realizes deep down that even as terrifying all of this is she’s somehow going to survive, because they always let her.  But, what’s even more horrifying is what other mutations are going to be done to her body?  Even as she’s thinking, her tortured mind rambling, she feels her arms arched upward from behind.  The end of another short bar attached to the center of the one cuffed to her wrists, she’s forced to step forward in the impossible heels, feeling herself being directed out of the medical quarters, her swollen clit grinding painfully between her thighs as her heavy breasts sway freely in front of her.

       Led into the hallway by the doctor, the nurse taking the blonde and redhead back to their quarters, to the Elder, Amy’s led to the vacant elevator.  Taken to the top deck she’s directed into the sunlight, the large group of men circling, the latest auction just winding down.  Staring, separating as she’s pushed ahead by the bar in the doctor’s hand, they watch her ballooning breasts wobbling, bouncing with each erratic step, her blonde hair flittering in the warm almost hot breeze, brushing across her arched back shoulders as she’s forced to blindly navigate through the crowd of leering men.  Hearing their voices, their lewd comments along with an occasional touch, and a few painful pinches mainly across her bugling breasts, she feels the closeness of the circling group, the stifling heat from the high sun in the cloudless sky.

       The auctioneer standing above the deck beside the rail, mike in hand and smiling, gives a quick wave to the doctor, directing him toward the steps along the side of the platform.  Guiding  her through the more then curious onlookers as she stumbles up almost every step in her heels, the doctor holds her somewhat steady as  her heavy globes bounce scrape across a couple of the step’s edges until she finally reaches the level walkway next to the railing.

       “Well Amy… Round two!”

       Hearing the familiar voice, she realizes it’s the auctioneer, especially as he leans toward her, the nasty garlic odor of his breath on her neck.  Pressed against the rail, feeling the heat of the hot sun still beating down on her, the murmur of the crowd below, she realizes where she’s at, what’s happening and humiliated by how her grotesque body’s being displayed in front of everyone.

       “Amy’s had a little transformation… And some attitude adjustments… But first… Check out those jugs standing out there!”

       She hears his voice, an echo from the speakers around the deck describing her like a piece of meat, sure that she’s got to be a repulsive sight.

       “What’s my bid?”  His voice booms across the still crowded deck. “What’s my bid for this whore that you’ve all watched the tapings of as she was fucked, whipped, disciplined in the chamber’s booth for hours on end... Even hanged by her tits before being transformed into this fuck slave while in the infirmary?”

       Feeling the bar behind her back pushing her forward, her waist bending across the railing, her breasts bouncing, slamming together, feeling like a pair of beach balls hanging off the front of her, she struggles for breath as she feels the pressure of the phallus in her throat being pumped up by a couple short squeezes of the bulb now In the auctioneer’s hand.

       Hearing the shouting, the bidding, the racket even louder then the first time she was auctioned, she can’t believe her mutilated body’s being so hotly contested for.  Almost thankful she can’t see from the mask, yet terrified of what she’s going to be put through next, she feels weak kneed, the hot sun scorching her bare flesh, her hyper sensitive breasts, pounding with pain each time they bobble.

       The rabid bidding escalating, her arms are gruffly lowered behind her back as the smell of the auctioneer behind her gets stronger.  Feeling his hands gripping her searing breasts, squeezing, kneading them painfully between his clenching fingers, thumbs, her right breast released, again she hears his antagonizing voice next to her ear.

       “One night only… Today’s auctions for just one day… And of course one night!”  Glancing down toward his hand cupping her reddening globe, he adds.  “Remember… Bondage night…  She’s yours with an assortment of toys… Cane… Paddle… Clamps and ropes.”  His voice rattles across the speaker system as he sadistically spanks her bobbling globe back and forth.  “And don’t forget… The decibel meter and wire clamps!... Three wire clamps!... Just use your imagination where to hook ‘em up!... Hook her up!”  Patting his hand down between her spread thighs, tweaking a nipple, he gives the group a slow, knowing scan from left to right.

       The pain excruciating, rasping for breath, the intensifying knot in her stomach twisting as she hears the shouting over his horrendous ravings, she’s terrified at the realization of what the rest of the day, the rest of the night has in store for her.  Bent further across the rail, both breasts heavy and swinging freely above the buzz of the crowd below her, her face mask is stifling, the latex shrinking into her heated skin, the rest of her bare flesh quickly reddening from the past few days of neglected sunlight.

       Barely conscious, flashes, specks of light resonating across her closed eyes, she slumps across the railing face forward as the doctor and auctioneer grips her arms, tugs her back into an upright position.  The nearly hundred degree heat’s compounded by her sensitive skin, stifling mask, her stuffed mouth.  Held firm for the next few minutes, the sounds, bids by the bartering crowd are just scrambled unintelligible sounds reverberating off her hooded mask… until she’s sold… To a representative of one of the few isolated Dominatrix’s on board.

       In almost a whirl, Amy’s led barely coherent to another level of the ship, a private area for the few wealthy females allowed on the cruises.  Delivered to the Dominatrix, a spreader bar’s affixed to her ankles spacing her feet a good shoulder width apart, its center eyehook clipped to a bolt in the floor as she stands tiptoeing in her stilettos.  The bondage bar cuffed between her wrists is chained to a waist high pillar behind her forcing her shoulders back, her globes bugling out from the stretching slots of the latex bodysuit.

       A whiff back and forth across the narrow slots beneath her nostrils has her jerking her masked face back and forth as the acrid odor of the snapped capsule jolts her awake.  Trembling, helpless, her stomach ripples under the tight latex as she struggle for breath, the rubber blub hanging above her chest, its tube still affixed to the phallus cramming her mouth.

       “Well… Amy… Looks like you’re mine until tomorrow.”

       Alert, almost wheezing through the mask’s slots, Amy hears the voice, a woman’s stern voice, feels a fingernail slipping across, gripping and tweaking her left nipple jiggling off her bare breast.

       “Do you hear me?”  The voice asks as the nail digs into the nipple, twisting back and forth.  “Nod stupid… Grunt … Let me know you’re alert before I start playing with you… With these big ‘ol titties!”

         “Oomph!”  A grunt, a quick little obedient jerk of the mask up and down as Amy feels the sharp pinch into her sensitized flesh.

         “Okay… That’s better!”

       Feeling the fingernails loosen, the hand slide under her aching globe and lift it upwards, she reflexively braces, waiting for the certain pain to be inflicted while in the darkness of her mask.  Her other breast also hoisted upward, resting in a palm of another hand, even the normal foundling’s painful, like a million raw nerve endings exposed across either breast.

       “Let me walk you through the next couple hours Amy… Nod to acknowledge me… Understand?

       Hearing the woman’s monotone but sinister voice, feeling a fingernail pressing inward on her right nipple, Amy’s mask quickly jerks upward as she also barely grunts. “Agghhhh!”

       “That’s good… Amy… Soon you’re be doing more then grunting… I’m sure you’re be screaming too!”

       Listening to the already frightening voice, cold, hard yet even keeled, Amy feels her left nipple being tweaked, tugged outward, the pain piercing just to the touch. “Oomph!”

       “I didn’t say anything yet, Amy… Quit being a sniveling cunt… Understand?”

       Feeling her nipple tweaked as she’s scolded, again the pain searing, Amy quickly shakes her head up and down while trying to muffle a groan.  Feeling the tension on her nipple released, almost in relief she inhales through her nostrils, taking a deep breath while feeling the latex contracting, confining her waist.

       “Now… Like I was saying Amy…  We’re going to concentrate on hurting these titties.”  The voice in its same sadistic monotone continues.  “First though, we’re going to skewer each nipple and chain each tit separately to this pillar in front of you… Understand?”

       Heart pounding, the nauseated, twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach, Amy feels her knees weakening as she sorts out the maddening meaning of the woman’s voice.

       “I said Amy… Understand?  I’m going to skewer your nipples and chain them to this post in front of you now!”

       Again the voice, again the tweaking of her nipple as she reflexively jerks her head up and down. “Oomph!”  Grunting, realizing what’s being said, what she’s facing, the latex suit seems to tighten, shrink across her heated flesh, confining her breathing through the slits under her flailing nostrils.

       “Amy!... You’re trembling.”  The sarcastic voice continues in the same monotone style as Amy feels her breast patted, her nipple again tweaked, then tugged.  “You won’t mind me probing, shoving a thick skewer right through these nubs, will you?... You’d like me to do that to you, huh?… That, and chain these tits… Stretch ‘em out here real good to the post with a set of nice heavy chains so I can exercise ‘em… Work them over… Okay?... I said Okay Amy?”

       A harsher pinch, a crisp tug, Amy trembles more then nods with a pitiful whimper barely audible out from the stifling mask, the pain resonating across her chest but nothing compared to what’s being described.

       Tell you what though Amy… If you take it like a good girl…  Be appreciative… I might not skewer that disgusting clit of yours!... It’ll probably burst if I do anyway!”

       ‘Oh God!’...  Amy’s thoughts scramble through her tortured mind as she feels her body uncontrollably shivering, her knees weakening.  Coughing while practically choking on the rubber plug plunging against her throat, she leans forward with the tug of her nipple, the wrist bar twisting behind her as its chain stretches tautly from the rear pillar.

       “Well… Let’s not waste anymore time, let’s get started!” Again the voice, again her left nipple tweaked outward.

       Leaning forward even further, her arms stiffening, stretching almost straight back in the pair of arm restraints, she feels her nipple tugged further outward, her heart pounding, thumping in her chest that’s stretching the shimmering latex across her thrust out torso.  Her knees quivering, her fists clenching behind her back, she wheezes through the flaring perforations beneath her nose in the quivering mask as she feels a sharp tip probed against her bare breast.

       Standing between the front pillar and Amy’s thrust out breasts, tweaking Amy’s left nipple with a thumb and finger while the rest of her hand cups the bulging melon, the black robed, dark complexioned woman scrapes the tip of the sharp skewer around the outline of the practically translucent, tautly stretching areola while glancing toward the flexing latex mask contorting across Amy’s face.  Almost quietly, she asks.  “I’m ready… Are you Amy?”

       Bracing, wanting to scream in her near panicking state, knowing she has no choice except for the consequences of even worse pain, Amy finds herself barely nodding her head up and down, erratically whimpering.

       “Can’t hear you!”

       “Oomph…Oomph!”  A couple quick grunts as she feels the point barely tilt, twist but not quite sink into her sensitive flesh.

       “Good… That’s what I thought!”

       Pinching a little firmer, forcing the tan nub to bulge outward from the spread areola, she lets the tip of the skewer barely prick into the side of the nipple, let the glistening tip disappear ever so slowly into the engulfing flesh as she hears the soft whimpers from the mask.

       Glancing toward the quivering mask, asking.  “What?... You say you want me to push it on through?”  She holds the skewer steady, almost gently presses the twitching nipple against it with her other hand.  “How’s this?”  Giving a slight thrust with the needle, sinking it through the outer edge of the nipple, she can feel the skin almost ‘pop’ as the tip sinks in, borrows halfway or so through the nub, a trickle of blood oozing, dripping from the underside of her globe.

       “Aaaggghhh!”

       “You say to go ahead and push it through?... Okay!”  Another slow thrust, the outline of the tip of the needle forces the tanned flesh of the outer edge of her nipple to push outward, to stretch across the slowly moving needle tip until a ‘plop’ the same sound of the tip piercing completely through, another trickle of blood tracing down off her quivering areola, dripping from her twitching breast.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  A louder, though still suppressed scream as Amy’s body bucks forward, the chain rattling from the wrist bar twisting behind her back.

       “Good!... Good girl, now the chain.”  Lifting the end of one of the chains already fastened to the top of the post, tugging it up toward Amy’s breast, the robed woman holds the last link against the pierced nipple.  Tugging the edge of the nipple through the link, past the barely exposed tip of the skewer, she slides the point out across the link’s outer side, sliding the rest of the skewer almost completely through the impaled flesh.  Slipping the thicker end over the other side of the chain as she presses it down past the nub and against the areola, she slides the skewer evenly back until its centered above Amy’s trembling breast, the link firmly secured between the skewer and Amy’s areola.

       Turning toward the pillar, uncoupling the chain’s other end from its eyelet, she tugs, tightens the chain until its taut, forcing Amy’s breast to thrust out, her arms to thrust back between the tautly wavering chains to the twin pillars.

       “Other tit!”

       Amy trembles, hearing the woman’s voice, the pain unbearable as her stretched breast thumps, pounds in her chest, her arms stretched painfully back as she stands spread-eagled in the painful stilettos.  Her right nipple pinched, tweaked, another skewer probed, impaling the nub, more screams, another chain manipulated to fit behind the skewer, the chain tautly stretched and adjusted to the top of the pillar and she’s chained into position, prepared for whatever else the woman has in store for her.

       “Well Amy… I think its time for a little break.”  The woman speaks as she steps around her chained submissive.  “I’ll let you meditate for awhile… Then when I come back, we’ll decide between us just what we can do to amuse ourselves for the rest of the evening… I’m sure with the toys that came with you; we’ll have plenty to choose from!”

End Part 7