Slaver's Dozen (The Klitzman Stories) Read online

  Objegye felt his cock begin to throb and, grabbing Mary by the back of her head, pushed her mouth hard down on his meat. Mary felt the member begin to quake and prepared to accept Objegye’s discharge. Her loins were growing hotter and hotter as the hot rod that filled her slit enflamed her. She heard Objegye moan again and felt the iron hard meat in her throat begin to spasm. Her ears filled with the sound of Objegye’s pleasure as his jism was pumped down her throat. Her lungs strained at the need for fresh air, but she held her place, allowing the African to take his pleasure within her.

  The cock within her cunt continued to plow her relentlessly and Mary felt her passion growing larger and larger within her. When Objegye released her head, allowing her to suck in much needed air, her own orgasm began, sending bolts of sharp, hard edged pleasure through her. She moaned and cried as her climax overwhelmed her. She subsumed Objegye’s cock within her mouth to draw every drop of his hot cum from him as she rammed back at the insistent cock behind her. Just as her own orgasm began to subside, she felt the need of the man behind her crescendo and the splash of his hot cum within her womb.

  Feeling the spasms of the man’s cock against the walls of her sheath, Mary’s crisis was triggered anew. Her cunt clamped tightly on the hot tube of flesh within her at each exquisite contraction of her inner muscles. She cried and moaned, her voice muffled by the presence of Objegye’s softening cock within her mouth. Finally, mercifully, it was over. Mary’s heart beat rapidly in her chest, sweat poured off of her body as she felt the two spent cocks withdrawn from her. A slight kick on her thigh signaled her order to resume her place in the arc of panting, lustful women who had witnessed her intense climax. She looked up. It had been Wanjala, an almost lanky man, but with well muscled chest and arms, who had fucked her. He smiled at her in satisfaction.

  Meanwhile, Dume had approached the line of women. Like the others, he was naked, and his rampant cock was displayed before him like a heathen totem. He passed behind them, as Objegye had done before him. He had a broad, boney head and wore a thick black beard. His eyes were hard and cruel. He reached out his large, powerful right hand and tapped Karen on her head. The red headed girl jumped with fright. She quickly removed herself from the arc of women and awaited Dume’s pleasure, kneeling in the center. She whined with dismay as he signaled her to her feet, his hands holding the end of the steel chain that had so cruelly held Rene a short while before. Her knees weakened and her stomach turned as her wrists were clasped to the chain. She closed her eyes, readying her body to receive Dume’s blows. She heard a whistling in the air, the sound of a cane moving rapidly to its target, igniting a line of fire across her soft, tender breasts. She screamed.

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  While Sheila expectantly pondered the nature of her next training session, and the other girls absorbed their lessons, Brittany and Danielle were lying gagged and hooded, bound hand and foot, awaiting the pleasure of their new owner. Rukimo had immediately assessed their value and their training had been kept separate and apart from that of their friends. He had posted their pictures and some video of their training on the Internet, available only to what was classified as ‘Platinum’ club members. The response had been gratifying.

  After their branding, the sisters were not returned to the regular holding cells. They were taken to a special training room several doors down the hall from the main ones. Once dragged there, they were placed in tiny steel cages, naked and gagged, with their wrists confined behind their backs. The cages faced each other, and the girls could see each other’s forlorn faces through the bars. Hours passed, slow, agonizing hours, with the searing pain of their brands still burning them, their joints aching from their confinement. And terror. Nothing in their lives had prepared them for the callous, cruel treatment they had suffered. They had been torn from their safe, civilized lives and thrust into a world of horror. Even now, tightly confined in their little prisons, searching each other’s desperate eyes for a single ray of hope, they trembled at what fate their future had in store for them.

  The room was brightly lit and did not hide the various instruments of torture and confinement strewn about it. The unhappy young women had no doubt that they would soon learn first hand what torments those medieval instruments could deliver. They had both been coarsely handled and roundly fucked prior to and after their branding. The experience of their carnal abuse left them in no doubt that the use to which their bodies would be put was no longer under their control. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, their anxiety for the future gnawed at their very psyches.

  The girls were used to each other’s comfort, each other’s counsel. Now, separated by only a few feet, their eyes meeting in piteous, frightened stares, they might as well have been separated by miles. Neither of them had ever felt so alone. Though they yearned for each other’s comfort, they had no choice but to await the designs of their captors.

  When the door finally opened their eyes shifted to the black robed figures who strode in. Their cages sat perpendicular to the door and they could both clearly see the tall, muscular black men as they entered. Something terrible was going to happen, they both knew it.

  Two guards had entered, and they were followed by a familiar figure, her hands bound behind her, her mouth gagged. She was tugged along by a short chain that led to her leather collar. It was the woman known to the girls as Ms. Bowers.

  Slave girls who were used for the organization’s sinister purposes outside of the confines of the resort, or one of the many satellite facilities around the world, were required to undergo a mandatory period of retraining when they returned. Of course, they did not need to be taught their slave mantras, the responses to the standard commands, their sexual techniques. But their resignation to their status as abjectly servile chattel needed to be reinforced. It would not due for them to begin to think of themselves as persons in any real sense. And so the woman who had been permitted for a while, as long as it served her masters’ purposes, to respond to the name ‘Ms. Bowers’, was being reintroduced to the duties and obligations of slavery. Since she had already been trained, she could, it was thought, play a helpful role in the breaking and training of two newly captured girls.

  After her wrists were unbound, and her gag removed, the woman took a position on her knees while the men stripped themselves of their robes. They seemed to have a short debate about where to begin. They decided that Danielle would go first. One of the men, a tall, lean man with an angry, scarred face, unlocked the front of her cage and, grabbing the girl by her hair, pulled her free. The other man, shorter, more muscular, with ritualistic tattoos across his chest and arms, lowered a chain from the ceiling.

  When the man removed her gag, Danielle began to plead and whine as she realized what was in store for her. She had reconciled herself to being raped, but she had hoped and prayed that she would not be whipped again. She realized that her prayers had been in vain as her wrists were unbound from behind her back and fastened over her head to the dangling chain.

  The girls’ cages had been set about fifteen feet apart. There was just enough room in the middle for a slave girl to be whipped. Brittany’s eyes teared as she saw her sister prepared for physical abuse. When she heard the tell tale whistle of the whip, she close her eyes. She could blot out the sight of her sister’s torment, but not the sound.

  It was the tall, lean man who was beating her and he was using a four foot long, thin, rattan cane. The first blow struck Danielle across her naked back. ‘Crack!’ The sound pierced the room like a shot from a pistol. Danielle’s body stiffened and she emitted a high pitched scream. There was just enough purchase for her feet to allow her to spin her body around, to try and dodge the blows. The next blow caught her across her breasts. ‘Crack!’ Danielle moaned in pain. It was like a vicious claw had been dragged across her tender, plump orbs. She yanked and tugged at the chain in a desperate, but futile, attempt to remove her body from the whip’s zone of influence.

/>   ‘Crack!’ The next blow landed across the back of her thighs, the tender skin sending a torrent of fiery pain throughout the wailing girl. Why were they whipping her, she asked herself desperately. She would do anything they wanted. She would debase herself, grovel abjectly before them, spread her legs to open herself to their assaults. Why were they tormenting her, she thought. “Oh, god, why?”

  While his partner delivered blow after blow to the defenseless form of the beautiful girl, the other black man kept his eyes pinned to the supine form of Brittany, bound and imprisoned cruelly in her cage. The girl had tried not to look, had tried to shut out her sister’s agony, but she could not help but stare as Danielle twisted and turned, performing a kind of danse macabre before her. She looked over and saw the other black man watching her, measuring her for what purpose she could only guess. Brittany’s stomach turned over at the thought. She began to sob.

  Danielle’s wretched cries filled the room. Long red stripes covered her body. Her face was tear-streaked, her voice becoming hoarse. Her thighs, her stomach, her buttocks, her breasts were relentlessly assaulted. When the rain of blows ceased, she hung, exhausted and defeated, her arms extended above her, her legs limp.

  The men detached Danielle from the chain and led her back to her cage. She cried in relief that her ordeal was over, no matter how brief the respite. Regagged, stuffed and cramped in her tiny jail, her wrists bound behind her, she looked across the room at her sister, knowing that her turn was next.

  But when Brittany was removed from her steel cage, she was not lifted to her feet. She was not connected to the chain. She was raised to her knees and forced to spread her pale white, slender, delicate thighs. One of the men, the one who had been staring at her during Danielle’s torture, knelt down behind her. She could feel the heat of his chest as he leaned against her back, his breath on her neck. Her bound hands behind her grazed his stiffened cock. Wordlessly, he reached around the girl’s torso with both of his hands and placed them on her chalk white breasts.

  As she felt the large, hot hands encompass her tender globes, Brittany realized what was being done to her. The thick, strong fingers fastened on her tightening nipples and stroked them delicately. Brittany whimpered as she felt the beginnings of lust in her loins. “Not before my sister!” she begged silently. “Please no!” she thought. The girl felt the hot lips of her assailant press against her throat as the large, skilled hands massaged her breasts.

  Danielle looked upon the jet black hands gently caressing her sister’s ample, meaty breasts with, if not shock, at least some bitterness. She saw the unmistakable signs of pleasure in Brittany’s eyes. Why was she whipped and not her, she protested to herself. The unfairness of it all crushed her. She moaned in despair.

  The black man’s left hand slowly descended down Brittany’s tight, smooth belly. It reached the valley between her thighs and delicately parted the tender lips of her sex. The man found the girl’s slit to be moistened, and he drew a small moan from her as he dragged his thick fingers along the edge of the crevasse. Brittany felt her breasts growing hot and tight as her loins began to burn.

  The man’s hands roamed across her body at will, stroking her energized skin, drifting gently down the length of her widespread thighs, while his lips enflamed her neck and shoulders. She could see Danielle staring at her accusingly, as if Brittany had any choice in the designs of her assailant. “Please, please,” Brittany begged her sister with her mist filled eyes. “Please forgive me.”

  Brittany felt her need growing. The man’s hand covered her mons and gripped the lips of her sex. Pain mixed with pleasure as he squeezed them tightly. The other hand fiercely twisted a nipple, causing Brittany to let out a muffled moan of pain. But the painful torment was just momentary, enough to highlight the slow, burning pleasure that was threatening to overwhelm her. When the man’s finger found her stiff bud atop the apex of her nether lips, Brittany sighed and moaned. She closed her eyes and let her body drift to its unavoidable climax. Her pussy was wet and dilated, and the man was able to plunge his fingers deep within her. He began to rub them rapidly across her hardened clit and her breathing became deep and labored. The girl could not prevent small cries of pleasure to escape and her muffled voice, crying “Oh! Oh! Oh!” filled the otherwise silent room.

  The man pulled Brittany’s body closely against him as he sensed her crisis approaching. He grabbed her breast with his free hand and squeezed it tightly. His incessant torment of Brittany’s tender bud and the lips that surrounded her gushing cunt drove the girl closer and closer to her unwanted climax. When it struck her, her body tensed, much like Danielle’s had before her when the supple but hard cane had first kissed her skin. But it was a hard jolt of pure pleasure that coursed through Brittany. Her body spasmed and jerked as her pussy clamped down hard at the jet black fingers within her. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!” she cried, her voice made almost mute by the thick wad of leather imprisoned in her mouth. She nearly swooned in ecstasy.

  She was grateful when the hand ceased its torment of her throbbing hole. She gave a little cry as she felt herself pushed over, her forehead to the floor. She felt her thighs spread behind her, her rump lifted up. A hand parted her soft, plush cunt lips and she felt the probe of a rock hard, thick prick. She groaned as she felt it slide easily inside her, reawakening her unwanted passion.

  Slowly, and with deliberation, the African rasped his thick, hard meat across Brittany’s tender love bud. She began to moan loudly as wave after wave of pleasure passed through her. Danielle looked on with a mixture of horror and awe. What kind of men were these that they could draw such paroxysms of pleasure from her sister, she thought. As she saw Brittany tremble and groan under the tender torment of the black man’s hot piece, she was struck with more than a tinge of envy.

  The African pulled Brittany’s head back by her hair as she neared yet another round of explosive contractions. To her dismay, she saw the bewildered eyes of her sister, her companion, her childhood friend, staring back at her. She gave a throaty moan of shame as the hot prick drove her closer and closer to orgasm. Her bound hands twisted and turned behind her. She yearned to expel the remorseless prick that sawed at her sex. She yearned to fend off the explosive satisfaction of her compelled need. As she moaned with pleasure, she saw herself lost, reduced to no more than a wanton slut. She moaned and yelled out behind her gag as her climax overtook her, sending fierce spasms of pleasure through her body.

  When the African had satisfied his own need, discharging his hot cum deep into Brittany’s moist and tender womb, calling out undecipherable imprecations in his native tongue, the other black man approached to take his due from the exhausted young woman. While his companion retired from the field of play, he grabbed Brittany by the hair and turned her so that she presented her pale white flanks to her sister. He pulled her to her knees, kicking her thighs widely apart. He released the straps that bound the gag tightly in Brittany’s mouth, casting it aside. Standing before her, his long, thick cock rampant, he made his wants clear to Brittany as he pressed it against her plush lips.

  Brittany looked up as the man pushed his erect cock past her lips and into her mouth. This was the man with the whip. He had beaten Danielle mercilessly, and without cause. What more might he do to her should she fail to satisfy him, she thought, anxiously. She and Danielle had traded stories of their back seat struggles with boys over the years. She had never acclimated herself to the task of bringing oral pleasure to her beaus. Her stomach had revolted at the hot salty taste of their meat, and the thought of swallowing their slimy discharge was repellent to her. But now she would do it. She would do anything that these cruel men demanded.

  With a forlorn whine, Brittany wrapped her lips around the shaft of her assailant. The thick, hot cock filled her mouth and pressed against her throat. She realized that the pace and rhythm of her service to the black man’s thick, hard shaft was not to be left to her own devices as she felt the man grab a handful of her thick, blonde hair and push
her head down against his stomach, so that her nose was buried in his coarse, black pubic hairs.

  The tip of the man’s cock pressed past the entrance to her throat and descended inside. Brittany began to cough and gag as she was overwhelmed by the man’s physical presence inside her esophagus. Her bound hands twisted in frustrated agony behind her. She tried to resist the man’s callous efforts, but to no avail. As she bucked and struggled, the man’s steel like rod remained lodged in the tight confines of her throat. When she thought that she might suffocate, she felt her head pulled back so that the thick bulb of flesh at the head of the man’s instrument passed outside of her lips, allowing her to take a desperately needed gulp of air. She had barely time to suck in the precious oxygen when her head was pressed down again.

  Danielle was mesmerized by the tableau before her, watching her sister’s degradation. She had often sucked off her boyfriends, and had come to enjoy drawing the groans and shouts from them as she pleasured them and accepted their creamy discharges. But she had never been throat fucked. She watched as the man’s prick produced a bulge in her sister’s throat as it pressed downwards. She watched her sister’s fruitless efforts at resistance, her tears flowing in rivulets down her face. Danielle knew that she would, in the near future, certainly learn to how to swallow a cock so completely, just as she knew that Brittany would inevitably face her own turn at the wrong end of a whip.

  The man’s deep, guttural groans signaled the inception of his orgasm. As his hot cocked throbbed, jetting pulse after pulse of his salty spewm into Brittany’s throat, he withdrew his meat from her mouth, and aimed the tip of his cock at the center of her face. Stream after stream of his cum splashed against Brittany’s nose and eyes. She could feel it dripping down, like the thick yolk of an egg. She whimpered and cried at this latest act of humiliating disdain. She felt degraded, reduced to a mere receptacle of this hard and cruel man’s lust.