THE FUNHOUSE

College girls on spring break take in the sights.  Safety in numbers, they room together near the beach, party together at night.  Hooking up with a local and letting him hang out with them a couple times, they accept his offer as a group to spend a couple hours at a nearby traveling carnival.  Entering the funhouse, lost in its maze, their exit’s not what they expected.

Chapter One

       Making their way through the carnival funhouse, nervously giggling, huddling together, the girl’s final turn leads them to a dead end cubicle appearing to be a cold storage slaughterhouse room with sides of beef hanging from meat hooks.  Lights flickering, the clanking of metal from the corrugated gate grinding downward behind the group coincides with a low hissing sound from the roof vent appearing to be leaking smoldering fumes.  Another quick flicker or two, then pitch darkness, the hissing sound above them louder, the nervous giggles, squeals suddenly becoming rasping coughs, nervous grunt, unintelligible diatribe followed by silence.

       The labored sound of the slow starting of the truck’s engine as its starter cranks, the double clutching, grinding of the gears after the familiar chattering, rattling sound of a diesel, finally the truck lurches forward a few feet from the opening in the carnival tent, jerks to a stop.  The left door, then right door swung shut behind the trailer, the sound of the metal latch scraps as it arches down across the weathered doors, securing them tightly shut as a lock’s slipped on the bar and clamped.  The framework of the canvas’ opening exposed, the matching panel’s flipped down from the top of the tent, snapped into place.  That exit no longer exists, never did.   Quick footsteps, the passenger door of the cab opens, slams shut while followed again by the grinding of the gears.  Slowly lurching, jerking across the ruts behind the pitched tent, the unpretentious tractor, the refrigerator trailer with its faded road grime makes a slow swing to its right, circles the rear of the canvas structure and idles out the back gravel drive.

       The driver glancing from one mirror to the other turns on the wipers, the worn blade streaking back and forth as the steady drizzle mixes with the built up road film blurring the windshield.  Flipping the defroster on, the window momentarily steams a little hazier as he wipes his forearm across the glass in front of the steering wheel.  Rag in hand from the glove box, the passenger leans over, swipes a couple wipes back and forth clearing the glass enough for the driver to see the obscured road from the dark cab as the truck makes its casual entry across the drive onto the wet pavement of the country back road.

       “How many?... How old?”

          “Half dozen… All in their late teens, maybe one or two at the most… Twenty.”  The passenger calmly answers the driver while wiping his arms, face, finally his hands with the soiled rag.  “Just in time… Starten’ to rain pretty good.”

       “No one with ‘em… You made sure we got ‘em all… We ca…”

       “Damn right I’m sure… Hell, this ain’t our first time.”  The passenger butts in, tossing the rag on the seat between them.  “Nobody’s going to miss them for awhile; they’re all from up north… I told you they’re all here on spring break together… They’ve got motel rooms side by side back by the beach where I met them a few days ago.  If anyone else was with ‘em at the park, nobody’s even going to realize they didn’t exit the funhouse since the exits on the opposite side of the tent… That’s the way it always works… Never failed yet, has it?”

       “Sure they’re all out cold?... The gas work..”

       “Shit… Will you quit worrying?”  The passenger obviously irritated blurts out, again cutting the driver short.  “Of course, they’ll have ‘em stripped and strung up before we even get a good start, okay?”

       “Yea… Okay, you just know how I am!”  The driver smirks.  “These girls are disappearing forever… We get caught, we disappear forever.”

       “We ain’t never got caught and nobody never found any of those other girls… And how long that been?”  The passenger scoffs, answering himself, almost proudly.  “Four, almost five years now?... And what?  How many girls?”

       “Lost track a couple years ago.”  The driver answers.  “One coast to the other, back and forth all the way across the country.”

       “Nice job being an over the road trucker, huh?”  The passenger grins, nodding across the dark cab toward the driver as the rain intensifies, the thick drops pounding across the windshield, metal roof of the cab.  “Good opportunities!”

       “Yea… Great opportunities… Especially with a couple cousins in the carnival business!”

       Leaning back, tucking his shirt collar behind his neck, wedging himself between the seat and the door, the passenger nods as he tucks his arms across his chest.  “Yea… The auction will be broadcast pretty soon… The looks of those girls, I’d be surprised if they’re not sold while we’re still in route… Wake me when we get there.”

       Into the rain, the night, the truck begins to make its way along the back roads, avoiding way stations, law enforcement.  The first hour or so will be across the flat landscape, time enough for their latest abductees to be prepared with a minimum of difficulty.  Then, just a couple more hours to the next state, the cargo will be delivered neatly packaged as their preparations in the trailer have already began, their auction’s about to begin.

       Incandescent lighting shinning down from the trailer’s insulated ceiling, the door in the insulated false wall dividing the forty foot trailer into a pair of equal sections swings open as a gurney pushes through, between the swaying beef.  Cuffing each unconscious girl behind her back as she’s rolled on her side, slipping hard red rubber ball gags in each of their mouths, binding the black straps behind their necks, the pair of men in white overalls, breathing masks chooses one, slips her across the stainless gurney on her back, rolls her to the front compartment of the trailer.

       Sealing the door behind them, locking the gurney down in floor slots directly under an ‘I’ beam running parallel across the trailers left hand side roofline, they begin stripping the girl.  Her long brown hair in a tightly woven braid, her head tilting toward her side as her limp body barely sways on the table with the gentle, steady motion of the truck, the scissors snips through the material.  Blouse, bra snipped away from the top, her shorts and thong panties quickly follow, along with her gym shoes are just as quickly tossed into the open bin mounted to the sidewall.

       Handcuffs unfastened, removed, each man grabs a set of leather cuffs from a prepackaged kit taken from the stock in the wall mounted cabinet above the bin.  Bowing her arms, legs down across the sides of the narrow gurney, her ankles, wrists are quickly cuffed together.  Leather straps slipped from the package, one man straps each thigh as the other slips a longer strap beneath the small of her back, adjusts it across her bellybutton.  The man toward the head of the gurney tugs at the first of a row of hoists mounted toward the front of the ‘I’ beam, slides it across the rail positioning it directly above the gurney.  Tugging on its cable, slipping its eye hook down toward the three straps, the second man holds the strap’s rings in line, slipping the hook through all three.

       Cranking the lever, the cable tightens, the straps stiffening, stretching as her body bows, her back arching as she’s slowly lifted upwards.  Her buttocks rising from the stainless surface, her young, firm breasts sway toward her sides, flattening across her arched chest as her head droops back while her braided hair sways across the front of the gurney.  As her tilted head slips up off the metal, her naked body total suspended by the hoist, the gurney’s unlocked and slipped back from beneath her, to transport the next girl.

       As the gurney’s wheeled to the door by one man, the other grabs a glistening spreader bar and affixes it between the hanging girl’s cuffed ankles and wrists, adjusts the bar to spread her arms and legs just a tad wider then her gently swaying body.   Letting her sway back and forth in her bound, semi-arched position, he steps toward the open door, toward the gurney being positioned by the next unconscious girl to be stripped and suspended.

       Loading her onto her back, wheeling her toward the front of the trailer, placing the gurney to the right hand side under another ‘I’ beam, the men waste little time stripping, shackling, hoisting her naked body up off the gurney.  Her clothes piled in the bin above the first girl’s, the same procedures are repeated until all six stripped girls are shackled and hanging in rows, swaying naked under the pair of ‘I’ beams.

       Flipping a console switch, the whine of the compressor’s barely detectable above the sounds of the rolling rig as the refrigeration unit kicks back on, the rear compartment purged of the gas as the sides of beef sways from the meat hooks, again to be chilled.  Relaxing, leaning back in their affixed chairs, the men’s almost finished with their work, then they can enjoy the next hour or so with the naked girls swaying above them, after transmitting their images over the satellite hookup to the compound.

       Stepping from girl to girl, videoing each naked body from virtually every angle, the six gagged girl’s images are transmitted.  The blond first, her pale skin almost milky, her breasts large but firm, jaunting toward her sides as she’s swung around, her spread thighs revealing a wispy fluff of pubic hair as her long blonde hair sways toward the floor.  Next, a brunette, slender and athletic with virtually no hair from her neck down.  Arched backwards, her flattened breasts actually larger then they appear, her body glistens, rippling under the lighting.

       Stepping toward the third girl, her jet black hair touching the trailer’s floor, her body’s also slender, naturally dark as the camera zooms in on her obviously Oriental face.  Almond complexion, high cheek bones, her body’s also freshly shaven.  Starting at the end of the next row, another brunette sways unconscious.  As he leans closer, he’s struck by her image.  Body, face tan and athletic, glancing across the row, he realizes she’s a twin.  She’s the spitting image of the second girl.  Spinning her around, feeling her swaying breast, the other girl’s across from her, he smiles as they not only look, but feel the same.

       Kneeling toward the next girl, more long dark hair, and she the largest busted of the group.  Large dark areolas on her firm, but almost too large for her slender body’s breasts; she’s also the catch of the group.  Her pubic mound also bare, her slender waist with an inverted navel, her abs ripple below her defined ribcage.  Focusing the camera on the sixth and final girl, again she’s a noticeable partial match, as she’s also of Oriental heritage.  Slender, small but ample busted, she has just a trace of a ‘V’ above her slit as she’s arched backwards in her bindings, the red ball gag glistening from between her yawning lips.

       The videoing complete, turning the camera off, he lays it on the counter as the truck continues to slowly sway as it travels the practically flat landscape.  Glancing toward the girls, stepping between the swaying ropes, he spins the big busted brunette and spreads her thighs around his.  Dropping his trousers, gripping her grapefruit sized melons; he lets the crown of his shaft slap across her puffy vulva, smack across the folds of her labia as he centers his cock between the spreading lips.  Pressing, pushing inward, he feels her spread slit engulfing his swelling manhood.  Quickly sliding halfway in, her vagina like a tight moist glove, pulling slightly back, again thrusting inward a couple more inches, he feels her twitch, hears her moan.  Rocking forward, squeezing both breasts tighter, twisting and stretching, he begins to shove her body away, pull it closer in rhythm with his own thrusts.

       The moans become grunts, almost louder behind the ball gag as her body jerks in its bindings, her labia folds stretching inward, stretching outward across his foreskin as he mounts her to the hilt, his scrotum slapping between her thighs.  Hearing another girl’s grunts, turning his head, he sees the other man mounting one of the Orientals, her body swaying back and forth as he repeatedly thrusts in and out while manipulating her small but bulging breasts between his squeezing fingers.

       Within the next hour, all the girls will be fully awake, finding themselves bound, naked as they are, and sexually abused, some multiple times.  Then, they’ll be delivered to the compound, to remain hogtied as they are for their final deliveries, their auctions already in progress from the closed circuit viewing just completed.  Before morning most if not all will be introduced to their new lives, of servitude or worse.

End Part One

THE FUNHOUSE

The auction completed, the couple of Oriental girls go as a pair.  Bought by a group of Orientals even as the truck was still in route to the compound, they’re quickly delivered and immediately subjected to body modifications, just hours after entering the funhouse.

Chapter Two

       The Oriental girl’s fates sealed, their bound, naked bodies are hoisted off the trailer, each still arched back, swaying from a prong of the fork lift as it maneuvers off the ramp into the southern mansion’s basement garage entrance.  Wheeled into the bunker type room behind the garages, the obviously Oriental décor includes plenty of bamboo and hemp rope.  Colorful rugs cover the walls, the floor concrete with drains.  As the girls are mounted on separate bamboo braces, large tripods supporting strands of thick hemp rope from their centers, they slowly twist, arched backwards, nearly half the room apart.

       The door to the garage closing behind the exiting fork lift, several black clothed men and a couple women also dressed in black, all Oriental, enter from a stairway above the back of the room.  Stepping around, surrounding the closest tripod, gruffly unbinding the disoriented naked girl, standing her upright with only the ball gag still in her mouth, one of the women operates the mounted video equipment as the other woman begins handing out bamboo and ropes to several of the men.

       Each with a purpose, the men begin binding the bamboo shunts to the girl from head to foot.  Flexible shunts are mounted above and below her breasts, another behind her back, just below her armpits as they force her shoulders back, her arms crossed over the bamboo, her hands down toward her waist, wrists bound toward her sides.  Working efficiently, silently, the bamboo, the ropes quickly take shape forcing her body into a rigid stance.

       Thin shunts placed between her legs spread her labia, the ropes binding those shunts burrowing around her thighs.  The bamboo flattening into the bases of her bulging breasts are bound to the bamboo behind her back with twisting rope as the ball gag’s removed, another bamboo shunt forced between her lips, tied between her shinning black hair and neck.  Shorter bamboo’s used vertically behind each calf, thigh, looped, tied with several strands of hemp forcing her to tiptoe stiff legged as more hemp rope’s crisscrossed behind her shoulders, drawing her arms closer, her chest to arch outward, her ballooning breasts darkening, separating toward her sides.

       Satisfied with their bindings, she’s stood in the center of the room on a three legged stool.   A rope swaying down from a block and tackle’s looped around her braid of long black hair, hoisted upwards, stretching until she can barely touch the stool with the balls of her bare feet.  Starring wide eyed, her dark brown eyes glaring through her tears, she can only grunt as she watches a black kettle being wheeled in front of her.  On the verge of hyperventilating, her mind barely comprehends her surreal predicament.  Feeling the heat of the glowing red coals, her eyes darting toward the several black iron handles spread across the curved lip of the kettle, she realizes the smoldering red glow is heating branding irons.  Her swelling breasts bulge between the bamboo, her dark nipples hard, thick while standing straight out.

       Watching her trembling body while the mounted camera’s set in a more advantageous position, the largest of the black clothed men reaches for an iron, stirs the glowing coals with its simmering tip, the ambers sparking above the kettle amongst the acrid smoke.  Slipping the tip of the iron from the flame, lifting it toward her horrified face, he lets the flattened tip lower, barely brush across the tip of her trembling nipple, slip downward, just close enough for the glowing iron’s heat to singe the soft silky hair just below her flexing navel.

       Raising the tip of the iron back up, letting it glide just off the side of her trim waistline, up past her ribcage, he stops the flattened head just outside the curve of her bulging right breast.  Flicking his wrist, letting the scorching metal press against the outer globe of her quivering globe, he barely smiles, stares into her rolling eyes as she screams through the mouth gag.

       “Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!!!... Aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhh!!!”  Bucking, twisting, the red hot poker adhering to her burning flesh, the bamboo creaks in the binding ropes as her feet slip from the rocking stool, her naked, bound body twisting in mid air by her stretched hair.   One of the men grab at her flailing feet, slip them back on the straightened stool, steps back as the smell of burning flesh spreads through the searing smoke of her branded breast.

       Tugging the iron away, her tit flesh stretching before snapping back off the glowing metal, the man with the iron lays it back in the kettle, tip first.  Picking up another iron, glancing toward the side of her smoldering breast, he nods toward a couple of the other men as he grins at the image of a dragon burnt across the side of her glistening globe.  Stepping toward her other side, watching the man kneeling behind her, gripping her ankles, he slowly waves that iron in front of her swollen eyes, her tears mixing with her saliva drooling off her chin, between her compressed breasts as she babbles incoherently.

       Slipping the glowing iron down toward the outer curve of her left breast, slowly pressing inward, he feels the resistance of her searing flesh against the poker.

       “Aaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!!!”  Another scream while her body twitches, spasms as her ankles are held firm, her naked body curling, swaying, her hair stretching in the binding rope above her head.

       Flicking the iron backwards, again her flesh sticks to the glowing metal.  Giving another firmer yank, the smoldering poker sizzles as her tit flesh tears away, again the smell of roasting human flesh, again the smoldering remnants of the smoke rising from her naked body as she slumps.

       Glancing at the new branding, an ancient Chinese symbol swelling across the side of her breast, he grins as he nods toward the camera, steps toward the other horrified girl swaying beneath the tripod naked, her eyes transfixed on the branded girl.  Lifting the tip of the putrid smelling iron toward her face, the tip just inches from her cheek, she jerks her head aside, whimpering as the tri pod shakes, her arched body twisting in its bindings.  Laughing, shaking his head back and forth, he again turns toward the smoldering kettle.  Replacing that iron with a third, he glances toward the semiconscious face of his branded abductee, steps toward her swaying body, slips the tip of the iron just in front of her thrust out pubic mound, barely above the slight ‘V’ of hair.

       Her eyes barely twitching, her naked body still mostly hoisted upright by the rope tugging upward from her hair, drool flows across her naked breasts as he presses the iron forward.  Feeling her naked body flinching, sagging as the iron pushes against her bare flesh; her grunt’s barely audible as she slumps forward in her bamboo casing, sways from the stool.  The acrid smell, the steaming remnants of her burnt flesh rising between them, he steps back, jerking the iron away, dropping it into the heated kettle.

       Another burnt branding, another Chinese symbol scorches her naked flesh, this just above the spreading slit of her vagina, urine tricking from its spread labia folds.  Looking toward one of the other men, nodding, he watches as the rope slackens from her hair, a couple of the other men grabbing her, dragging her toward the tripod.  Fastening the swaying ropes to either side of the bamboo binding her breasts, tightening the ends, they leave her arched backwards, head tilted as her body weight’s supported by her clamped breasts as she gently sways, barely conscious.

       Turning toward the other girl, he smiles as a couple of the men slide a gurney beneath her naked body, lower the rope as she’s positioned flat on her back, her arms, legs spread over the gurney’s sides.  Unintelligible mumblings from her gagged mouth, her naked body trembles on the cold metal, her slightly larger firm breasts standing upright, her hard, pointed nipples quivering.  Rolled to the center of the room under the swaying rope, her body trembles, she squirms on the flat metal as the man steps toward her.

       Again the camera positioned by one of the women,  the girl’s wild eyes dart back and forth, take in the room, the other branded girl across the room limply hanging from her bound, stretching breasts, the hot kettle being rolled away by the other woman.  Terrified, almost believing she’s having an extended nightmare, the girl’s stomach heaves as her naked body virtually spasms on the cold surface.  Watching as another tray’s wheeled beside her, she sees multiple needles, various shades of ink in clear jars.  Three, four men surround her, retrieving needles from the tray.  She feels her shackled wrists, ankles drawn tightly together beneath the gurney, her naked body arching upwards as her heart pounds in her chest.

       Grunting, shaking her head, still unable to believe what’s happening to her, her friend, she feels the pricks, the jabs of the needles across her bare, perfectly smooth, unmarred flesh.  The pain resonates across her arched torso as the needles probe her breasts, her pubic mound, around her navel.  Working in unison, the multiple colors mix with tinges of her blood as the process is videoed.  The other woman steps around the men, the table as she swipes a pair of alcohol soaked terry cloth towels across the girl’s trembling torso, wiping the oozing blood, the mixed colors from her naked flesh with the once white cloth.

       Grunting, saliva drooling off her chin, her head jerking from side to side, she feels the needles glide across her breasts, across her areolas, even into the nubs of her nipples.  Likewise, the needle probing her pubic mound trails downward across her bucking thighs, over her vulva, against the twin folds of her labia, circle and pierce her searing clit.  Rasping for breath, her body on fire, the tattooing continues as her chest, her pubic mound and even lower fill with brilliant colors, with oriental designs.  Even above the pain, realizing her body, her flawless body is being mutilated, the thought’s numbing, disgusting. 

       Gnawing on the ball gag, her swollen eyes glaring at the overloaded tray as the men repeatedly collect more colors, choose other needles, the overall tattooing feels like thousands of bee stings, of electrical shocks as her nipples and clit are traced over time and again.  The soaked towels swabbed back and forth, the splashes of alcohol burns her punctured skin, drips between her thighs, into her spread slit even as the inner lips of her vagina feel the pointed needles.

       Abs reflexively rippling, her flattened stomach heaving, the room blurs, the men out of focus as her head rolls back, her eyes flutter shut.  Twisting a towel, soaking it in the alcohol, the woman twists it even tighter, pokes it upward between the girl’s spread thighs.  “Agghhhh!”  A muffled scream as the girl bucks, the drenched towel borrowed into her vagina, the alcohol burning at her punctured flesh, soaking her already sensitive vagina walls.  Twitching, bouncing on the table, she gags for breath, choking on her saliva, the room going dark as the needles continue to probe her naked flesh.  Continuing their designs even as she looses consciousness, her naked torso’s well on the way to showcasing demons and dragons, her breasts colorful mounds of painful art, her vagina…      

End Part Two        

       

          

        

        

            

THE FUNHOUSE

Another abducted, Tracy’s already well into her servitude training.  A few short weeks and she’s about to be displayed at her first social gathering of a group and sadomasochists taking place at her Master and Madam’s estate.  The night will bring her not only pain but a glimpse at what a couple of her acquaintances are going through.

Chapter Three… Tracy

       Virtually naked, Tracy stands silent and motionless in the foyer, actually more of a small rotunda of the mansion, where she’s put on display for the arriving guests.  Facing toward the mosaic stained-glass double door entrance, arms firmly at her sides with her shoulders arched back, her hands remain lifted upwards with her elbows pressed against the outline of her ribcage.  Fingers, thumbs cupped beneath her bare breasts support the firm globes, separating and lifting as her hollowed stomach gently slopes outward with each breath.  Six inch black stilettos, a snug fitting black chocker collar, she’s otherwise completely nude with her body bathed, shaved and oiled.  Her slick dark brown hair drawn strictly back across her scalp into a tight bun, the bright red lipstick glistening across her moist lips, her rouge, eye shadow model quality, her overall preparation’s impeccable.

       As she obediently stands in her instructed position her mind flashes back to just over a few weeks ago, of the partying with her friends during spring break without a care in the world, then came the carnival, the funhouse and their abductions. Hogties, multiple rapes, and then virtually sold into slavery, now somehow she finds herself surreally subjected to the decadent lifestyles of a sadistic Dominatrix and her husband, a foreign dignitary, living on their secluded estate, him home only on weekends and holidays

       Quickly introduced to their equally cruel demeanors and their swift and precise punishments, the patrolled grounds and guard dogs surrounding the mansion, the past weeks have been a continuous nightmare of training and discipline, sexual abuse and ‘exercise’ sessions.  Her will to resist, her urgency to escape already severely compromised, just a brief jolting demonstration of the sadistic effects of the chocker collar affixed around her throat since arriving the very first day made it painfully obvious that her only option was to submit and even more, instantly obey, just as she already has done on a number of occasions to a variety of their debauched cravings.

       The door opening with another couple entering, the cold breeze chills her bare flesh, light Goosebumps spreading across her exposed breasts as the doorman takes the guest’s wraps.  Her thoughts snapping back to the present, eyes remaining straight forward, she forces herself to remain rigid, maintain her condescending fixed smile toward the couple as they brush by.  The breathtakingly beautiful dark haired woman exquisitely attired in a plunging black satin gown and matching stilettos obediently steps past with her arms down toward her sides, chest thrust outwards, the obvious silhouettes of nipple rings recognizable through the stretching fabric contoured around her large, braless breasts.

       The woman’s eyes briefly rising to barely glance around the house, a hint of foreboding’s obvious before she again lowers her head as she’s escorted by the obviously dominant man toward the parlor.   As they brush by, Tracy can’t help wondering how her own nakedness, her acquiescent, even subservient appearance and attitude seem to be so blasé to so many of the guests.  Then again, this being her first involvement with this type of gathering, she’d been informed earlier by the Madam that her group of guests tonight take turns rotating the ‘event’ to showcase their new ‘stock’.

       Glancing toward their reflections in the glistening hall mirror beside the entryway, hearing a murmur from the already present guests, she watches the black gown dropping from the woman’s shoulders, the man unstrapping the back, letting it slip to the floor leaving the woman virtually naked.  Noticing the doorman watching, returning to her fixed position, she glances toward the door again opening, another couple entering.

       Another strikingly attractive young woman, a redhead, and another impeccably attired man allow the doorman to accept their warps.  The same looks as they step by, the knowing smirk of the doorman followed by another round of murmurs as her gown’s discarded near the parlor’s entrance as Tracy catches the reflection of that now naked woman’s backside from the mirror as she’s led into the group, the obvious remnants of faded whip marks crisscrossing her shoulders and buttocks.  Assuming her stance, the chill of the air not the only reason for her sporadic shivering, again her mind wanders, thoughts of what the evening’s going to bring, what else her role’s going to bring. 

       Just a couple minutes and the doorbell again, feeling the cold breeze rippling across her bare flesh yet again, she focuses toward the entry way.  Startled, at first glance she recognizes the two beautiful Oriental girls being led in by a pair of Oriental men, unbelievingly her friends that had been abducted with her those so few weeks ago.  Both wearing long silk kimonos, impeccably made up, she’s quickly horrified at their nude body’s modified appearances as they’re stripped virtually naked from their single garments in the foyer.  Their arms bound firmly behind their backs, the twines of brilliant white rope starting at their wrists coils upward to just below their armpits, pressing their elbows tightly together arching their shoulders impossibly back.  Their now huge breasts obviously augmented spread outward, swaying as they’re led forward.

       Unable to stop staring at their naked bodies, one’s lavishly tattooed with brilliant colors of beasts and other forms of Oriental art from her neck down to her thighs; the other’s displaying multiple brandings across her torso.  Both with piercings of their nipples and vagina’s, their perfectly made up faces bordered by their sleek, jet black hair can’t conceal the dullness, blank stares of their eyes as they both remain almost stoic as they’re led past, toward the parlor in their six inch stiletto heels.

       More mutterings, a stirring of the group and Tracey watches disbelievingly at the reflections in the mirror as the girl’s naked bodies are surrounded by the guests, hands touching, exploring the terrifying yet erotic human artwork.   Heart pounding, quick thoughts of what could be happening to her other friends barely flash through her mind as she feels the queasiness in her stomach, the realization of these two friend’s transformations sinking in.

       “Tracy!’

       “Yea… Yes Madam?”

       “I see you’ve gotten to see a couple of your friends again… The other two came from another vendor.”

       “Yes Madam.”  She answers, eyes lowered as she reflexively squeezes her fingers, sinks her thumbs into the bases of her own outthrust breasts.  “I… I see them.”  Keeping her eyes lowered, fixed on the waistline of the Madam’s stark black leather outfit, she can feel her pulse rising, the uneasiness in her stomach as she listens to the stern voice.

       “Well now… See how well you have it with us, girl? “  The Madam scowls.  “Just remember what that body of yours could look like if you didn’t behave.”  Glancing back toward the parlor, the group around the pair of Orientals, she slips her index finger, thumbnail around the stiff nub of Tracey’s right breast as she twists away toward the parlor.  “Tell you what though… Nipple piercings and maybe a tattoo or two would go well on these, wouldn’t they?... I said wouldn’t they, Tracy?”

       “Yes… Yes Madam if you liked.”  Almost a whimpering answer, Tracy hears her own voice agreeing, just like she’s learned to do, regardless of the question or its consequences.

       “Well, then.”  Again turning, the woman adds with a smirk.  “You don’t seem too pleased with that idea do you?…  But anyway, that’s the least of your worries this evening… In a few minutes you’ll be introduced to one of our guests when he arrives… Actually he’s going to be the last to arrive for the evening… A personal friend visiting us for a few days from the homeland… He’s cruel, but I expect him to be pleased with your obedience, understand?”

       “Yes… Yes Madam.”  Nodding her head as she lowers her eyes, she nervously answers.  “I… I understand.”

       “Very well… He’ll be here any minute to prepare you… He’s going to entertain us with what he does with you tonight.”  The Madam replies as she slowly shakes her head, walks toward the door.  “I hope you don’t mind waiting outside for him… Follow me Tracy!”

       Stepping past the doorman as he swings open the left hand door, out into the damp, chilly night air, the Madam turns just at the far edge of the entranceway.  Glancing up towards the misty droplets of moisture dripping sporadically from the gently swaying fringe boarders of the overhanging canopy, she commands.  “Right here… Stand right here beneath this with your fingers interlocked behind your neck, on the collar… Arch… Legs spread, push those titties outward.

       Obeying, stepping outside, spreading and arching her naked body while facing down the steps toward the edge of the curved driveway Tracy feels the thick, misty air, the cold dampness immediately clinging to her bare flesh.  Goosebumps spreading across her firm global mounds, nipples puckering on her shriveling areolas, the crisp air practically burns at her lungs as she struggles to catch her breath from the cold as the Madam crosses her arms, slowly shakes her head back and forth.

       “Tracey… I told you where to stand… Now step forward a little further… Position yourself under the edge of the canopy…  Just so the water drips across those titties… And stay that way until he arrives.

       Slipping the toes of her stilettos just across the edge of the top step, she feels the slight swirl of the breeze.  The first cold droplets of water send shivers across her chest, occasionally splashing across her bare breasts, streaking downward and dripping off her quivering nipples.  Shivering, chewing at her bottom lip, she stares into the darkness toward the widely spaced driveway lamps leading out toward the gateway’s guard shack down around the artfully manicured shrubs.

       Hearing the door shutting behind her, left alone, she grips the neck collar between her squeezing fingers, the cold numbing her naked body as the minutes pass.  The moisture begins to mix with occasional specks of sleet swirling in the stiffening breeze, sticking to her bare flesh. Quickly dissolving, melting from the little warmth resonating from her out thrust breasts, it mixes with the other drips of water tracing downward, across her trembling navel, collecting between her spread thighs, slowly dripping between her feet.

       Barely able to hear inside the house, wondering what she meant by saying she was going to be used as entertainment, what he was going to do to her, feeling the aches of the cold, wet precipitation coating her bare flesh, her breasts practically numb along with her lower extremities, she catches a glimpse of headlights slowing at the guard shack, the barking of a couple of dogs.

       Heart racing, shivering, she can’t keep her eyes from the approaching limousine as it slows to a stop in front of the steps.  The rear door opening to the dark colored stretch Bentley, the man steps out, glances toward the house.  Stepping to the rear of the motorcar, he retrieves a black satchel from the chauffer opening the trunk.  Again glancing toward the house, eyeing the canopy, he methodically makes his way up the thirteen steps.

       The closer he gets, the more ominous he appears.  Big, dark, wearing a dark overcoat and Russian style fur cap, gripping the satchel in his left hand, he stops near the top step, stares directly into Tracy’s eyes.  Grunting, reaching out with his right hand he cups her left breast in his palm, twists and squeezes the cold wet globe while slowly nodding.

       “Oomph!”  A grunt as Tracy barely twists, his fingers digging into her cold breast.

       Glancing toward her bugling breast, sliding the satchel onto the wet concrete he reaches inside his coat pocket, slips out a number of dark, thick elastic bands.  Sliding one over her outthrust breast, slipping it under his gripping hand, he lets it snap around her wet tit flesh.

       “Ohhh!”  Another moan as she squirms, glances toward her stinging bare breast as he slips a second band just inches in front of the first, flexing it open, letting it snap around the firm globe.  “Gaaad!”

       A third, forth and finally a fifth band snapped across her discoloring breast quickly forms it into a tubular shape, each spread elastic band about an inch or so apart, the spreading areola darkening behind the flattening nub of her nipple.  Palming, bouncing the bound breast, glancing into her tear filled eyes, he smiles as he slips his hand across to her right globe.

       Squeezing, slipping bands across that breast, each flexing snap brings another grunt from the stinging pain as she clenches the collar behind her neck.  The elastic mounts, digging into her wet cold flesh until both discolored breasts stand out and separate, the swollen nipples dark and hard.  Stepping behind her, lifting her arms upright and bending her wrists behind her neck, shoving her elbows closer together up above her hair, slipping another band up over her hands, he lets it snap across her wrists behind her head.  Slipping another, then another band down from up over her elbows, letting the elastic dig into her arms, pulling them tighter together, he finishes binding her arms forcing her head forward, her chin just above her twin discolored mounds wobbling off her thrust out chest, water dripping from both.

       Stepping back in front of her, giving each breast a slight smack while watching the tubular shaped melons bounce, he picks up his satchel with his left hand, firmly slips his right hand between her thighs, with his thumb and forefinger twists her around by her stretching labia.  Leading her to the door as it swings open, the doorman takes his satchel.  Stepping inside, releasing Tracy’s aching vulva as he slips his coat off, he glances into the parlor toward the approaching Madam, a smile on her face.

       “Well… I see you’ve met him, Tracy!... Nice little touch already, Hugo.”  She grins as she lets her index finger roam the bands stretching around Tracy’s bound left globe.  “Boy, these wet ‘ol titties sure got cold in a hurry, huh girl?  Glancing toward his satchel with a knowing smile she adds.  “I figured they’d sting a little more if you worked ‘em wet and cold… And I see you brought your satchel, good!”

       “You know your way around the house, freshen up… You can meet us down in the chamber.” She advises him.  “The other four new girls are already there with their Masters and being prepared; I’ll take Tracy with me and let the guests follow.”

       Just a nod and he picks up his satchel as the Madam taps Tracy on her cold rump, practically whispers.  “Come with me girl, he sure doesn’t talk much does he?”  Turning toward the parlor and her guests, allowing Tracey to follow, she glances back as Tracy’s bulging, discolored breasts painfully bounce as she struggles in her stilettos.  “Those tittles aching girl?... The night’s just begun for them!”

End Part Three

       

       

       

                     

       

       

      

                    

       

       

               

THE FUNHOUSE

All the girls auctioned, the twins are delivered to their destinations, not knowing the other’s fate.  Their first week a living hell, they’re quickly subjugated into what appears to be a nightmarish existence.

Chapter four… The twins

       The dark dampness surrounds her, clinging to her naked flesh.  Stretching tautly from her bound wrists as the ropes creak under her weight she hears the occasional harsh ‘crack’ in the background followed by muffled cries, her own mouth stuffed with a soiled rag.  The tips of her toes point downward barely touching, the ropes tightly binding her ankles attached to the flat stone in the cold puddle of water and urine mixed with feces on the stone floor beneath her giving off a nauseating stench as her arms ache while she struggles for breath.  Only wisps of light dart through the small cracks in the stone walls as the torturous sounds of the whip laying into bare flesh echoes in the otherwise darkness.

       Terrified, haven’t slept for what seems like days, forced to remain naked since arriving at this foreboding chateau a few days ago, her thoughts of her sister, her friend’s haunt her as she’s continuously tormented by the dark robed, hooded men.  Forced to scrub the stone floors, the rock walls, shovel and clean stalls on her hands and knees, all while naked, her filthy body wreaks of the stenches she’s not been allowed to clean off.

       Her once proud body, flawless like her sister’s seems weathered and bruised in just a short few days.  Hair scraggly, unkempt, her body unshaven and filthy, her own odors are wrenching, even traces of urine caked to her thighs as she’s forced to relieve herself in her cell while chained to the wall at night by her neck, unable to sit, much less lay down.

       Unable to count the days or nights, she’s constantly been kept inside the lower portion of the chateau, the garages, stalls and urinals.  While working hours on end without the shortest of breaks, forced to kneel, accept whatever any of the men want of her at any time as they pass her by, painfully taken in any hole, then not allowed to  wipe herself, forced to swallow if her mouth is used, her mind is on the edge of insanity.  Barely able to comprehend the blur since entering the funhouse at the carnival, everything’s been a constant, sick nightmare, one rape after the other, floggings and insults, forced labor, now bound and stretched by her wrists and ankles.

       The creaking sound of the large oak door swaying open on its aged hinges is quickly followed by the flickering light from the flames of a hand held torch.  A trio of hooded men enters from behind her, one stepping in front.  Arms crossed above his bare chest, his eyes glaring through the rumpled black hood, he nods, watches as the second man slips the blackened iron pair of flat, reddish stained perforated metal braces above and below her bare breasts as the sounds of the flogging in the background escalates through the open door.

       Reaching out, twisting the matching pair of metal knobs on either end of the braces, the bases of her breasts slowly flatten between the compressing metal.  The second man twists and tugs, spreading her breasts apart by her nipples as the flat metal presses closer together.  Whimpering with the mounting pain, still hearing the ‘cracking’ in the background, her grunts and groans echo in the small chamber as her mind races.  Staring downward at the cold, harsh metal, his grimy hands twisting the knobs, her breasts bulging as the slates tightens, she feels each turn harsher, more painful until the pair of metal practically touch, her tit flesh forced through the small perforations as her areolas, nipples swelling outward are almost translucent, pointing apart.

       Glancing pleadingly from one hooded mask to the other flickering in the torchlight, hearing the tortured cries in the background as the leather strikes flesh, her body reflexively trembles under the mounting strain as the second man steps closer.  Wide eyed and whimpering, she shakes her head back and forth as he raises his hands toward her face.  One with a glistening skewer between his thumb and finger, the other hand with a number of similar skewers, all no thicker then hypodermic needles, she feels the first man gripping her ballooning breasts as the first skewer’s sadistically rammed through a top perforation of the metal breast clamp.

       Bucking, jerking at her wrist and ankles bindings, the ropes chaffing at her already raw flesh, her screams are muffled by the mouth rag as the skewer impales the center of her left breast.  Squinting, feeling her right breast squeezed, the sharp tip of another skewer probing into a similar perforation, the harsh pain of the sharp tip jamming through her flattened tit flesh, she again jerks and twists.  Gasping for breath, her straining body’s muscles, tendons contort under her naked, glistening flesh as her heart pounds, her stomach knots in spasms, the pair of skewers quivering through aligned holes of the matching iron slates.

       Barely conscious, feeling skewer after skewer forming a row across each tortured breast, her raw throat still stuffed with the damp rag, she feels her body being turned toward the open doorway.  Glancing through her swollen eyes out across the hallway, the sounds of the whipping has stopped, the opposite oak door creaking open.  Wide eyed, disbelieving what she’s seeing, she can only grunt, shake her head at the sight of her twin sister facing toward her.

       Head tilted forward across her chest with a rag stuffed in her throat, her naked body bound and stretched identically, her bulging breasts flattened in black iron clamps, skewers lining across both clamps, the only difference, the multiple crisscrossing red welts oozing trickles of blood from her armpits to her thighs.  Glaring, frantically shaking her head back and forth she watches as a bare-chested hooded, sweat drenched man steps around her sister, into the hallway with a crimson tinged bullwhip in his hand, dragging its tip as he approaches.

       Even as he steps through the doorway the whip curls, swishes as if in slow motion as she closes her eyes.  “Swish… Thwack!”  The flexing leather smacks across both swollen areolas, just beneath the nubs of her nipples.

       “Oomph!”  Her guttural gasp barely leaves her stuffed mouth.  “Swish… Thwack!”  Another backhanded flick of the wrist and the snakelike leather circles her navel, the small of her back.  “Aaaggghhh!!”

       The searing pain of the leather ripping into her sweating flesh causes her naked body to lurch in the stretched bindings.  The whip’s tip digging into her sunken navel twists around the loosening leather as it drops from her trembling thighs.  Scraping across the floor, he flicks it upward, again.  “Thwack!”

       “Aaagghhh!!!”  Across her pubic mound, the tip glancing off her rounded hip just below her waist as her body twists with the lashing.  Barely able to lift her head, her eyes lock with her sister’s as the flogging continues.  The constant swishing, the familiar sound of leather striking bare flesh is now hers as the red welts take on the eerily, almost precise patterns as her sister’s.  Comprehending the matching tortures she can almost count the remaining lashings to come as their whipped bodies hideously match.

       As the flogging nearly reaches its completion, two of the men leave, each returning with a couple large wooden buckets, brine water splashing across their sides.  Stepping behind the girls, they wait for the final stroke.  The last lashing resonates between her thighs, lifting her upwards as she barely rasps out in pain, just as the first buckets are poured across their slumping heads, shoulders.  The salty water cascading across their naked, welted flesh splashes across the floor as their muffled screams are literally drowned out by the splashing water.  Sweat, blood mixes with spurts of urine as their stretched, naked bodies twist and buck in the creaking ropes, the fifth washed from their naked flesh.

       The first buckets empty, the men splash the other buckets across their bare breasts, thighs, their buttocks, letting the filthy water drain off their legs, across the floor.  Done, they file out into the hallway, leaving the doors open as the girls hang by their wrists facing each other.  Beaten, breasts clamped and impaled, their raw wounds washed out with the thick brine water, they can barely gaze toward one another, their dazed minds almost wondering if they’re virtually looking at their own reflections, in agonizing pain, yet exhausted.

       The sound of footsteps on the hallway’s stone floor, the hooded man stops at the open doors.  Glancing from one to the other, he flips the short whip in his hand.  “Today’s Sunday… Your day of penance and time to reflect… Tomorrow starts a new week of labor and gratifying the Brothers.”  Glancing at their tortured bodies, he adds.  “You’ve also received your weekly cleansing… You’ll remain like you are for the rest of the day fasting and meditating.”

       Shutting the one door with a loud thud, then the other, he leaves them in darkness, alone in their cells, to contemplate another week.

End Part 4         

            

THE FUNHOUSE

The sixth girl of the group receives payment for her participation in the abductions.  Much more then she bargained for.

Chapter Five… The blonde

       Sitting around the table, the blonde counts her money.  The five girls brought even more then she expected last week from the carnival.  Smiling, nodding toward the group of guys as she places the bills in her attaché case, slamming it shut, she scoffs.  “Yes sir… Show me the money!... Cash only baby… Not a bad payday for spending a few days with those dumb-asses!... Didn’t even mind the hogtying in the trailer with the cunts, but I have to tell you, the fucking pissed me off though!”

       “Yea, we watched him hammer you pretty good hangin’ in the trailer… Looked to me like you were enjoying it, Hun.”  One of the guys quips.

       “Fuck you… I ain’t your Hun asshole… And that wasn’t the deal!... Hell… I should ask for more money... This ass doesn’t come cheap!”  She frowns, patting her rump as she stands up.  “At first I was kind’a pissed… He knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could do though… Or say… The Bastard!... He was supposed to slip past me while they were still out cold, but that’s okay though… You can tell him his dick ain’t that big!... By the way, let me know when you want some more girls… They’re easy to come by… I’ve got a trusting face!”

       “You know they’re going through Hell, don’t you?”  The driver of the truck asks as he kicks back in his chair.  “Ever let that bother you since you’re a girl?”

       “Shit… You kidding?”  She shakes her head.  “Those cunts are a dime a dozen… I couldn’t care less if they’re screwed, glued and tattooed!... Fuck ‘em all!... See ye’ around!... And next time, that Bastard’s out though… I want that understood!!”

       Leaving the conference room, heading for the open elevator, she grips her briefcase as she steps on.  Pressing the button for the garage, the door shuts as she sarcastically smiles toward the conference room while whispering to herself.  “Fuck you all!”

       Door closing, the elevator jerks into motion.  The downward thrust, the elevator continues non-stop express for the ten floors.  Passing the lobby, the garage floor, another level into the sub-basement, the door opens.  The attaché case lying on the floor’s picked up by one of the men in a white jump suit and mask as the other two similarly dressed men slide the gurney in next to the blonde’s unconscious body.  Pressing the red stop button, lifting her onto her back, wheeling the gurney to the black van, she’s hoisted into a rectangular container and handcuffed behind her back and ankles before the perforated lid’s sealed.  Returning to the elevator and releasing the red button with the attaché case tucked under his arm, the elevator heads back to the top floor non-stop express, with the money.

       Driven out the sub-basement, the van drives out of the building, to the executive airport to the private jet where the container’s loaded aboard the waiting plane by the two men now out of their jumpsuits.  Taxiing, lifting off, banking toward its destination, the plane fly’s its cargo to its highest bidder, residing in Latin America.

       Awakening, twisting and rolling on her side in the dark box, light shinning through the perforated holes, in moments she senses the mist squirting into the container, again groggy before slipping back into unconsciousness.  The plane continues in route, finally landing at the private airfield, only frequented by drug runners.  The return trip won’t be wasted with an empty plane.  One box unloaded, the other box loaded, the plane doesn’t even need to refuel as it taxi’s back onto the runway, lifts off to bank toward its home base, a different type of cargo aboard.

       The delivered cargo’s hoisted on the back of a pickup truck, hauled to the main house and unloaded, unsealed.  The blonde’s unconscious body’s removed, laid across a gurney and wheeled into the rear of the house.  Uncuffed, stripped naked, her clothes are split up among the women.  Shackled spread-eagled to a tubular gurney, its slats adjusted to bow her naked body upward and outward until her arms and legs  tautly stretch downward and apart from her arched torso, her head slowly twists as her eyes blink open.

       Her joints burning, her chest arched outward, her eyes barely focus on the room around her, the white ceiling fan slowly turning above the gurney, the dark skinned men and women circling.  Jerking at the bindings on her wrists and ankles, barely able to move her tautly stretched body, she raises her head, twists her neck as she glares at the quickly focusing room, at the man stepping toward her.

       “What the hell!… Wher…”

        A quick hard smack across her face, a wet acrid smelling cloth across her nose and mouth and she can barely grunt as the room spins, goes dark.  Wheeling the gurney out into the baking sun, her milky white flesh reflects the light as she’s wheeled toward the pool area, the group of partiers.  Breasts swaying apart toward her armpits, her spread slit showing her parted labia folds; her arched naked body’s wheeled over to the diving board where the wheels on the gurney’s locked down next to the deep end of the pool.

       A small group of men and women circle the gurney as the diving board springs, bounces above them.  Water splashing, spraying across her bare flesh wakes her, her head twisting as she opens her eyes.  Feeling her breasts gripped, her nipples pinched as she spits the chlorinated water from her mouth across her swollen lip, her body reflexively arches as she feels fingers slipping between her thighs, spreading her apart.

       Barely able to get out a grunt, she feels her head jerked back by her hair, a thick, hot dark shaft slipped forcefully between her aching lips.  Hearing girl’s laughter in the background, gagging as the thick cock’s relentlessly borrowed deep down into her throat, her hips buck as she feels another thick shaft ripping, tearing at her rectum, the hot meat grinding its way deep into her bowels.  The hairy scrotum slaps across her eyes and nose as she’s rutted in her straining mouth, her hips quivering as she feels like she’s being ripped apart between her thighs.  Feeling her left breast gripped by fingernails, twisted, tugged while her right breast is brutally smacked, punched back and forth across her arching torso, she gags, gasps for breath.

       “This blonde cunt likes the big Latino dicks, huh?”  She hears the husky voice as her body jerks under the continuing assault as she again fades to sub-consciousness.

       Repeatedly mounted as her mouth, vagina and rectum are continuously probed, her breasts bruised and battered bake under the hot sun searing into her reddening flesh as the pool party continues.  Snorting snow off her thrust out melons, out of her navel, her body’s used and abused as the day wears on.  Cooking their crank over her flexing stomach, letting the heated spoons, tinfoil scorch her pubic mound, dripping molted wax across her tender nipples to hold the bottoms of the lit candles to heat the spoons, the orgy carries into the late afternoon until most of the partiers try to find their way to the main house for dinner.

       Left out in the sun, her glistening body practically beat red as the sun lowers, the hangers-on collect around the drug lord as he has one of his toys wheeled out to the pool next to the gurney.  Unwinding the coiled wires himself, spreading a serrated metal clamp across her right breast, sliding it against her burnt areola; he lets the teeth grip through the remnants of the was into the bud of her nipple as he releases his fingers.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!”  Jerking her head, screaming from the torturous searing pain, her fists tense, her toes curl as he slips a second wired clamp across her left pinkish globe, lets the teeth press open and snap shut into that wax hardened bud.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Another horrendous scream as her body again jerks, bounces on the curved slats.

       Relentless, uncoiling a third clamp, slipping the opening prongs between her spread thighs, one tip into her puckered rectum, the other into her vagina, across the tender flesh separating her pair of abused orifices, he lets it slip from his fingers.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Yet another curdling scream as her naked body spasms.  Glancing toward one of the women while nodding, she knows to snap a capsule, whiff it under the blonde’s flailing nose.

       Babbling, twisting back and forth as her wrists, ankles frantically twist in their bindings, she can only shake her head back and forth as she feels him placing the forth serrated  alligator clamp just above his pinching finger and thumb as he tugs at her labia.  “Aaaagggghhhhhh!!!… Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!... Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Scream after scream as her body contorts, her stomach flattening, her ribcage heaving above her arched body while blood drips from her ravaged clit as the pointed edges sink in.

       The almost silent group watch, tantalized by the blonde American’s torture, the blood trickling from every clamp, her milky flesh turning from red to a purplish shade.  Slipping a coiled rag between her lips, dumping a glass of water and crushed ice across her arched torso, he watches her heated, naked body buck as the water splashes and drains off the gurney.  Glancing at the dial while flicking the switch on, he adjusts the power as the hand slowly slides up the scale from green, to yellow, into the edge of the red.  Index finger on the red button, a cocktail in his free hand, he takes a sip, presses the button.

       “Oooooooooommmmmmmmppppphbhhhhhhh!!!”  Wires flailing, the clamps jerking across her hideously flexing body, her head pounds back against a crossing slat as she bites into the rag.  Fingernails digging into the palms of her clenching fists, her heels scrap, bounce against a bottom slat.  Taking a second sip, the finger still casually pressing the red button down, a slight mist, steam rises from her ravaged, naked torso as her breasts bounce, elongate, spread apart, a life of their own.  ”Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!!!”  Another curdling scream as her body shudders, slumps back on the rails, reflexively twitching into unconsciousness.

       Smiling toward his guests, bodyguards, he sips the remainder of the cocktail, tosses the glass into the pool.  Glancing at a couple of the local girls, backing the meter down into the middle of the green range, he nods his head toward the box.  “Come over here… Play with her for awhile… Use up the capsules, and don’t turn the meter any higher… She’ll still bounce for yeh.”

       Stepping away he turns and adds.  “Ohh, listen!… Five second bursts, with a few in between… Take turns, okay?”

       Walking toward the rear entrance, smiling at the local police chief as he shakes his hand, he grins.  “She’s a gift from our friends up north with the shipment this afternoon.… Seems they don’t have any use for her anymore.”

        Glancing over toward the gurney, hearing her grunts as the girls giggle while pushing the button, the chief smiles.  “Looks pretty good… Blonde too!… You’re not going to ruin her already, are you?”

       “Oh no!”  He answers with a grin while shaking his head back and forth.  “She’s just learning whose boss… In a couple days or so she’ll be fine.”  Again smiling he adds.  “You’ll be the first to have her for an evening, Hell, a weekend if you want… She’s going to make us a lot of money for the both of us before she’s used up!”

       “That’s what I want to hear!”  The chief smirks as he hears another squeal, watches her naked body bucking.  “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you!”

End Part 5

       

       

           

         

            

       

       

       

       

       

       

THE FUNHOUSE

Tracy’s led to the basement chamber for a closed circuit broadcast workout ahead of the Oriental girls.

Chapter Six

       A number of guests in the parlor focus their attention on the pair of bound Oriental girls along with the brunette and redhead, all naked and being displayed by their Masters.  Tracy on the other hand’s being directed toward the lower chamber, still wet and cold with her abused breasts stinging, marred with thin tracings of the now removed elastic bands sadistically snapped across her cold, damp globes by a number of the guests as the Madam amusingly mingled with the group.  Shuffling ahead of the Madam and her contingent of guests to the lower level, still struggling in her stilettos with her arms raised obediently behind her head, her fingers interlocked behind her neck, she finds herself being directed into what appears to be multiple settings of bondage and porn backdrops in separately prepared areas of the vast chamber.

       Cameras, props and lighting apparatuses are surrounded by dark, sound resistant padding over virtually all the area’s walled surfaces.  Led past the first few smaller, unattended layouts, a larger studio setting dominates the rear portion of the chamber.  Behind a large partition, it’s modeled to a lesser scale for a studio audience as several inclined rows of theater seating raises from the stage up to the glass divider of a control booth.  A walkway above the rear row of seats holds currently manned camera equipment focused on the stage.  The podium itself appears rather stark with just a large glistening stainless steel ring apparatus mounted in the center of the floor.                

       Directed up onto the stage, Tracy’s turned over to a waiting pair of ominous black hooded, shirtless men.  As the Madam climbs the steps to the control booth, the muscular men turn their submissive victim around in front of the center of the ring.  Wasting no time, while one raises her arms above her head and fastens leather cuffs connected to cables loosely unreeled from the tubular ring around both her wrists; the other spreads her ankles as he kneels, cuffing them to leather restraints also connected to cables extracted from the ring.

       One of the men emphatically watches Tracy’s trembling body, her dark thick nipples jiggling as her naked breasts sway out across her arched torso, her flattened stomach and thighs quivering as the other looks, nods toward the control booth.  The whirring sound of the cables withdrawing, disappearing through eyelets into the ring echo across the stage as her arms and legs begin to slowly stretch outward, further apart.  Her naked body spreading, lifting inside the huge circle of steel, she’s drawn into a spread-eagled position as she apprehensively faces the mingling audience, some still finding their seats.

       On stage one of the men slides his open hand across her forehead, jerks her head back while the other forces a bright red ball gag between her yawning lips, shoving it deep into her mouth before crisply fastening the black straps behind her neck.  As her naked body bows back, her torso thrusts further outward, her melon sized globes swaying, bouncing back and forth above her taut defined ribcage as her hollowed stomach noticeably rises and lowers with each labored breath.  The upper curves of her full breasts along with the front sides of her painfully spreading thighs shimmer under the stage lighting glaring down from the rafters.  The first few rows of seats already completely filled, others still enter the studio as the muscular, shirtless men step across the stage, her preparation complete.  Crossing their arms they position themselves to either side of the large oval, silently staring up toward the glass partition.

       Up in the control booth, hands on the controls to the stainless steel ring the Madam watches through the glass divider along with her husband as the clock on the wall approaches the top of the hour.  Glancing across the monitors, the several angles of the stage, Tracy’s naked body’s covered from every angle.  On cue the lights dim over the audience.  The closed circuit production takes to the air, on her body extended inside the loop, on the shirtless men still virtually motionless while sinisterly standing to either side.  The multiple images continue to flick across the monitors in the booth as the hour long production begins.

       Adjusting a couple levers, the Madam carefully watches as the eyelets gripping the cables slides across the inner side of the ring forcing Tracy’s arms and legs to slowly spread wider apart as her image on the close up camera shot contorts and stretches.  As the cables adjust, her spread-eagled arms and legs draw closer on either side of her until her hands and feet are just a foot or so apart as her back bows, her breasts jaunting outwards.  Her arms and legs straightened exert an immediate almost unbearable pressure on her shoulders and thighs as her whimpers ripple through the front row or two of the audience.  Her head twisting back and forth, side to side, her panicking eyes glaring back and forth toward the chaffing cuffs, the whimpers become louder grunts, her glistening body tight and taut inside the circumference of the glistening circle of steel.

       Adjusting the controls, momentarily halting the cable’s movements, the Madam checks the different angles of Tracy’s tortured body being displayed across the monitors.  Concentrating on the close ups of her joints dangerously close to the verge of dislocating, the central shot of her heaving breasts spreading wide apart on her arching torso below her agonized expression of pain, the Madam smiles toward her husband.  Another barely noticeable nudge on the lever, yet another and even another causes Tracy’s glistening body to virtually vibrate, her muscles, tendons bulging under her taut shimmering skin as her head flails back, her fingers clinching open and shut in her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

       Grunting, saliva trailing down from the corners of her gagged mouth, glaring pleadingly up toward the control booth as she feels like she’s being split apart, Tracy barely catches a glimpse of the Russian stepping inside the booth, stepping beside, leaning over the Madam as she fingers the controls.  Numbly staring, she watches the surreal scene of the glassed in booth above the filling seats of spectators, of the Russian grinning as he slips his hand across the Madam’s, presses the handle.  Feeling the four ends of the cables tightening even further, the creaking of her burning, stretching joints pulsing in her ears as she borders on the edge of losing consciousness, her head twitches, slumps forward as a trickle of urine spurts across the bottom of the ring’s mount.

       The Madam smiles with sadistic satisfaction toward Tracy’s torture, then the Russian as she flips his hand away, releases the lever, finally halting the tugging of the cables.  A matter of a minute or so of quick conversation and the door to the control room reopens, the Russian quickly stepping out.  His shaven head glistening, his muscles rippling as he slips his wife beater t-shirt across his shoulders, over his head, he takes the steps two, three at a time past the swelling group of guests as he makes his way to the stage.  Stepping between the other muscular men, actually making them appear somewhat smaller in comparison, he glares into Tracy’s welling eyes as he lays one hand across her spread thighs, lifts her chin with his other.  Glancing from one breast to the other, both reflexively quivering across her taut torso, her flattened nipples eye level to him, he tilts his face forward and slowly laps his tongue upward across the bottom curve of her damp left globe, up across her twitching nipple.

       Her head tilted forward in his palm, staring glassy eyed past his hand, she terrifyingly watches the tan puffy mound of her areola disappearing between his puckered lips as he sucks inward.  The pressure of his uneven teeth sliding across the nub of her nipple, grinding across her fleshy areola, sinking into her tit flesh resonates throughout her chest as her heart pounds, her stomach churning with apprehension.  Moaning, her eyes pleading, she catches a glimpse of his eyes as he glances upwards as his head tilts back, his teeth still tugging, stretching at her bare breast.

       Feeling his fingernails sliding off her stretched leg, his fingers slipping up between her gaping thighs, she reflexively jerks as his thumb plunges knuckle deep into her spread slit.  His finger probing, poking across the rim of her rectum, she again bucks as his fingernail scrapes the sensitive flesh between her orifices, sinks inward to the second knuckle as his thumb twists against her clit.  Her body reverberating inside the loop of the glistening circle of steel, trembling, flexing as her wrists and ankles chaff in the leather cuffs, she feels her breast slipping from his mouth as she quickly glances toward the impressions of his jagged teeth circling her saliva soaked areola.

       Glancing toward the top of his glistening bald head as he slowly tilts it forward she feels both his hands between her stretched thighs.  The crown of his hot shaft slapped up across her obscenely exposed vagina after he slips his trousers toward his knees and cups one hand around his cock, she feels his other hand slide between her buttocks spreading, parting the folds of her labia with his fingers as the pulsing head of his manhood rams upward, thrusts harshly inside her gapping slit.

       His swelling shaft pounds in once, twice, a third and forth time, each a little harsher, deeper, tearing at her spreading vagina, grinding and pressing against the stretching membranes searing inside her vagina walls a fifth and sixth time, the pulsing knob pressing past her navel, impaling her seemingly to clear up into her very womb.  Almost oblivious to the tortuous pains he’s inflicted on her already, just as harshly he jerks his hips back, his shaft slipping from the tightness of her moist, stretched vagina.  Gripping the tops of both her thighs, forcing his open palms downward, ramming her spread thighs down across his throbbing shaft, he again rams completely inward as he rises on his tiptoes, again his cock impaling her spreading, stretching slit as her head twists back and forth.  Her pitiful, pleading grunts rasp through the drool dripping from the glistening ball gag, unintelligible bursts spraying specks of saliva from the corners of her stretched mouth. 

       Again harsh thrust after harsh thrust as her taut body flexes in the strict bindings, his powerful grip dragging her spread thighs firmly downward before letting her buttocks spring upwards over and over as he releases his hands between each thrust.  More loud unintelligible grunts as her head jerks forward, sideways, back and forth, the leather cuffs scraping the tender, raw flesh of her ankles and wrists.  A final vicious tug downward on her trembling thighs coincides with a noticeable snapping sound as she screams through the gag, slumps.  Holding momentarily still, he releases his grip her naked, unconscious body.

       Stepping back around the ring, his still throbbing cock swaying, glistening fluid dripping from his manhood, he straddles her spread buttocks.  Again gripping her thighs from behind, he slams his glistening shaft up between her stretched legs.  Her unconscious body reflexively quivers as his thick shaft tears past the sphincter surrounding her rectum, tearing deep into her anus, then out again  as he rams three, five, over nine inches deep in harsh, quick repeated thrusts.  Perspiration drips, glistens across her taut naked body as her breasts flail side to side below her slumping head, her matted hair swaying back and forth as her chin brushes across her sternum, saliva streaking out from the ball gag, tracing across her naked torso.

       Continuing to assiduously watch from the booth, again keeping an eye toward the monitors, the Madam rests a hand on the controls.  The close up view from behind, from down on the floor catches her eye, his crimson shaft repeatedly impaling her anus, traces of blood dripping from between her impossibly split thighs with each sadistic thrust past the tearing rim of her rectum.  One more quick flick of her wrist, the cables tense ever tighter, noticeably contorting Tracy’s drawn extremities to the verge of dislocating as her head jerks back, twists forward across her sweat drenched chest as semiconscious, her muffled screams seem almost animalistic.

       Even more forceful thrusts as he gruffly shoves his hands around her ribcage between her tortured arms and legs.  Gripping and twisting her supple breasts, tugging them back along her sides, his legs begin to noticeably tremble, then shake.  Another thrust and yet another deep inside her bleeding rectum and his head jerks back, his grunts echoing through the audience as his throbbing shaft explodes his load deep inside her ripping orifice.  A couple more halting strokes, a couple more grunts and his body relaxes.

       Slowly withdrawing, stepping back, his nearly nude body beads with perspiration as his swaying semi erect shaft drips his crimson tinged sperm across his thighs, dribbles on the floor as he slips up his black leather trousers.  Stepping aside, glancing toward the control booth, he nods.  Hearing the whirring sound behind him, glancing back toward the steel ring, he watches as the cables slowly slacken.  Tracy’s arms and legs not quite as taut, her body slightly slumps forward.  Breasts gently swaying, seamen, blood, urine mixed together dripping from her orifices, her naked body glistens under the lighting as the other pair of men step beside her.

       Gripping her arms as the cable continues to slacken, letting her body slump forward; one unfastens her ankles, the other her wrists as they grip the cuffs still shackled to her wrists and ankles and carry her from the stage.  The Russian silently watching, glances toward the entrance, toward the Oriental girls being led in, their arms still strictly bound behind their backs, their ornamented bare breasts glistening as they thrust outward like firm, ripe melons.  Glancing toward the steel ring, back toward the pair of Oriental men leading them up onto the stage, he nods toward the steel ring with an appreciative smile.

End Part 6