Slaver's Dozen (The Klitzman Stories) Page 9

  The tall African released Brittany’s hair. He picked up her discarded gag and stuffed it back into her down turned, forlorn mouth. He buckled it tightly against her head and dragged her back to her cage. Opening the door at the end, he forced her back in, her breasts squashed against her knees, her face pushed up against the thin steel bars. He locked the cage’s door behind her. Wordlessly, the two men readorned their sweaty and muscular bodies with their jet black robes and left the room.

  Just as Danielle could still feel the burning sensations of her turn at the whip, Brittany’s mind focused on the drying and crusting cum splattered over her face. “This can’t be happening!” she thought to herself, woefully. “This can’t be real!”

  For the longest time, Brittany and Danielle knelt in silent misery, ensconced in their small, steel homes. The former Ms. Bowers knelt silently, her hands resting on her knees, palms upwards, her thighs spread, her gaze fixed at some imaginary point ahead of her. The girls watched her, learning by observation the steel hard discipline required of a slave. At some unseen signal, the woman moved over to Danielle’s cage and unlocked it. Silently, she urged her from her cage. In the corner of the room was a toilet and the woman permitted Danielle to use it. When she was done, the woman wiped her and turned on a shower mounted on the wall.

  It was necessary to remove Danielle’s gag in order to give her a thorough washing. Danielle stared fearfully at the naked woman as she felt the gag pulled free. Her jaw sore, her mouth dry, she was relieved at this temporary reprieve. She managed a hoarse whisper. “Please, help me,” she whined softly. Her eyes were damp with tears, her face furrowed.

  ‘Crack!’ The woman gave Danielle a mighty slap across the face. Danielle recoiled in pain. She began to bawl. The woman grabbed her hair and pulled her under the tepid water. Wordlessly, she began to lather soap on the girl’s trembling body. Danielle, shocked to silence, resignedly accepted the freedom with which this woman handled her most intimate parts. She stood meekly as her hair was washed and rinsed.

  The shower was over quickly, and the woman began toweling Danielle’s body down. She dragged a brush through her blond, shoulder length hair, pulling out the knots, causing Danielle to give tiny, half-suppressed yelps. When finished, the woman pulled Danielle back to her cage, her hands still locked behind her, forcing her to her knees before it. Rather than compelling Danielle to return inside her small, steel prison, she knelt before the younger, frightened girl. Her eyes met Danielle’s and looked upon her with what appeared to be affection. She stroked the young girl’s still wet hair and circled her hand under her chin.

  Danielle, seeing that the woman had softened towards her, tried to speak, but the woman placed her fingers over Danielle’s mouth and uttered a soft, “shhhhhhh.” Danielle’s lips were trembling with confusion and fear. Moments ago, the woman she knew as Ms. Bowers was callously handling her, enforcing a cruel discipline. And now she was leaning over, her hands holding either side of the young captive’s face. Danielle felt the soft warmth of the woman’s lips meet hers. She felt her hands run softly over her breasts and thighs.

  Danielle was taken aback at the brazenness of the woman’s caresses. The woman began to plant gentle kisses over her neck and shoulders. Holding one arm behind Danielle’s back, and placing the other between her outstretched thighs, she kissed the nipple of her breast, sucking on it firmly, yet gently, drawing a moan from the young girl. Danielle had never been intimate with a woman. Her hugs and kisses of her older sister had been just that, sisterly. When she had felt strange, warm feeling in her loins, she had broken off their caresses, her physical feelings suppressed by a thousand years of taboos.

  But this woman was not her sister. Her fingers probed Danielle’s loins, finding them moist and her nether lips beginning to engorge. When Danielle looked over the woman’s shoulder, just as Ms. Bowers found the hard, little nubbin atop her sex, she saw her sister’s face, her mouth and chin obscured by her cruel gag, her body cramped and squeezed by her tiny cell. She knew that she should struggle and fight off these strange, Sapphic caresses. She knew that she was displaying the most shameful lust before her own sister. But all thoughts of resistance or struggle were washed away when the woman returned her hot lips to her own, parting them with her insistent tongue. Danielle moaned with passion as she felt her lust rise within her. The woman’s hand was expertly teasing her soft, moist pussy. The young girl was surrendering to the demands of Ms. Bowers’ lips, her own unrestrainable lust.

  But just as Danielle started to feel her heart pumping wildly, just as she began to rock her hips to press her hot cunt against the older woman’s hand, Ms. Bowers withdrew. Danielle was gasping with passion, but the woman merely pressed her lips lightly on hers. She picked up the heavy, leather gag that had formerly graced the panting girl’s mouth and pressed it against her lips. Danielle gave out a whine of frustration and self pity as the thick leather plug was reintroduced to her mouth and the straps buckled again behind her head. Ms. Bowers rose and guided Danielle back to the entrance to her little cage. She opened the gate and urged the young girl back in. Tears ran down Danielle’s face as she considered her shameful display of lust. And yet she yearned for completion, to drink of the older woman’s tender lips, to feel her mouth sucking gently on her breasts.

  Brittany was next. She knew well enough to remain quiet. Her loins burned with expectancy as Ms. Bowers’ hands caressed her flesh, washing away the evidence of abuse from her body. Brittany yearned for the woman’s embrace. When she was knelt before her cage, in full view of her sister, who watched ruefully from her tiny prison, she welcomed Ms. Bowers’ tongue with her own. She spread her legs willingly, yearning for the delicate touch of her hand. But she too was doomed to frustration. When Ms. Bowers sensed her approaching climax, she ceased her excitation of Brittany’s loins and the discouraged girl was regagged and returned to her cage. Ms. Bowers, or the slave who had once been permitted the use of that name, reassumed her position, kneeling silently and still, awaiting the return of the masters.

  And so it went. Each time the men returned, one of the two young girls suffered painful and cruel abuse while the other was forced to unwanted pleasure while the men mercilessly plowed her apertures. Danielle screamed and moaned when her rear passage was forced. Brittany, left to dangle upside down, her legs spread, still burning from the whipping of the insides of her tender thighs and the cruel strokes that landed on her sex, moaned and cried while Danielle received lessons on how to accept a long, hard cock inside her throat.

  And in between the beatings and rapes, during the lulls in their abuse, the near twins took lessons in lesbian love from their former chaperone. They arched their backs in lustful abandon as the woman caressed their plush cunts with her lips, starting and stopping, keeping them on the edge of bliss, but never letting them topple over it. Gradually, they were coaxed to return the beautiful woman’s caresses, running their tongues between her plump cunt lips, taking her stiff, engorged nipples in their mouths.

  They had no way to count the days that passed, the countless tense, anxious hours stuffed inside their steel cages, dreading the reopening of the door to their cell. They had lost count of the number of times the men had returned, sometimes only one, sometimes three or four, but more often just two, when, to their surprise, they were both removed from their cages at the same time. They were forced to kneel before their cages, their gags were removed, their wrists unfastened. Five, large, black men had entered the room and they stood around expectantly. The girls were no more than a foot apart, the first time they had been permitted even near contact for as long as they had been imprisoned.

  The men waited silently. The girls’ bodies trembled as they tried to anticipate their trainers’ demands. But, looking upon each other’s naked beauty, seeing the hardness of the nipples on each other’s pretty, plump breasts, they suddenly knew what was expected, what the purpose of Ms. Bowers’ training had been.

  It was Brittany who moved forward firs
t. She crept on her knees to her sister and placed her hands on her breasts. She held them tenderly, squeezing them ever so gently. When she leaned over to place her lips on her sister’s mouth, Danielle was ready. A wave of bliss passed through them as their hot tongues intermingled. Their blood boiled as they seized each other’s loins. Feeding hungrily at each other’s lips, they rolled to the floor. They pressed their lustful bodies together, crushing their breasts, pushing their hot, moist cunts against each other’s.

  It was Danielle who broke the embrace to run her hot lips down Brittany’s taut belly. Brittany responded by circling around so that she could press her mouth against Danielle’s glistening slit. The girls moaned with delight as they rubbed each other’s stiff buds with their tongues. With Danielle on top, the impassioned women drove each other to a crescendo of lust. It was Brittany who came first, her cries of ecstatic pleasure muffled by Danielle’s sex. Danielle followed rapidly, groaning her delight, pressing her face deeper and deeper into her sister’s loins.

  When the young women’s bodies collapsed, their orgasms expended, they were separated once more and forced to serve the lusts of their masters. Plowed fore and aft, each of their orifices plundered by the remorseless cocks of their oppressors, they cried out again and again as they were pushed past the crest of their wild passion.

  After the men had left, the girls knelt, reinstalled in their tiny prisons, their mouths once more stifled by the thick, coarse leather of their gags. They stared across at each other, each recalling the caresses they had given and received with such wild abandon, each yearning to enjoy the other’s flesh once more.

  The rapes and beatings continued. The lustfully obsessed girls were given to understand that they had to earn their sessions of physical love together and they strained to satisfy their oppressor’s lusts so they could once again enjoy each other’s lips.

  Finally, after a ritual cleaning and tantalizing caresses from Ms. Bowers, their sister slave, instead of removing them from their little cages, the men who entered the room affixed wheels to the corners and, after draping the cages with black cloths, rolled them from the room. They were taken down the corridor and into another room. They could hear the entertained voices of men as their cages were rolled to a stop. A man’s voice called for silence. Suddenly, the black cloths that had covered their cages were whipped away. There was a moment’s pause and the room erupted in applause.

  They were on a small, rug covered stage surrounded by cantilevered seats. Harsh lights shined down on them so that they could hear the voices, but not see the faces, of the men around them. Another cheer arose as they were removed from their cages. When their gags were removed, their wrists unbound, they knelt, their knees inches apart from each others. Although they were surrounded by unknown men, displayed naked on the stage, they could not hide the lust in their eyes. At a signal from one of the African guards, they fell into each other’s arms.

  There were jeers and catcalls as they fused their bodies into a lustful embrace. When they joined their lips and loins together, the men’s voices rose in intensity, their own lusts inflamed by display of lesbian love. When the young sisters climaxed, their sounds of orgasmic bliss unmistakable, the men applauded and cheered.

  After the women had achieved completion, they were drawn apart and brought to their feet. Their naked bodies, still evidencing the signs of their recent passionate embrace, were paraded around the stage for the benefit of the crowd. When they were returned to their cages, the bidding started.

  Later, lying hooded and bound, the girls had no clue as to the identity of the man who had bought them. They knew that they had been sold and that their bodies belonged to someone who would have god-like powers over them. They would be together; that was all that mattered now. Soon, they knew, their bodies would be delivered to their master, and they would be taken away, far from their homes, their friends, their families, far from any hope of redemption, to some unknown, cruel fate.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ORIENTATION

  Now that the girls had learned obedience and to open themselves willingly, even enthusiastically, to their masters, they needed to be made ready to serve the guests and supervisors of the resort. Kit, Sheila, Karen, Mary, Lana and Rene found themselves finally liberated from the underground training area. They had been taken from their cells and chained together in a coffle, hands bound behind them, their mouths securely gagged, and led from Rukimo’s dungeon out to the open air of the resort.

  They were crowded into and then out of the tiny elevator that led to the guest areas and then marched along the brick walkway. As they shuffled along, they looked on with amazement at the many white stone buildings, the blue and red robed men who passed them on their march. But they were truly taken aback at the sight of the verisimilitude of young, naked women jogging quickly and purposely along the path, or serving in the crowded outdoor cafes along the way. They had had no idea that they were part of such a grand enterprise. If they had harbored any hope that their predicament was temporary, it was dashed by the scale of what they saw.

  Kit led the parade, and she cringed as the eyes of the passing men ogled her naked form with undisguised lust. The purpose of their training now was perfectly clear. They were doomed to serve as abject whores in this strange dystopia. She was being towed along by her collar, a chain from it leading to the tall, black robed African who had taken charge of them. She clamped her teeth down fiercely on the thick, leather plug in her mouth. Her stomach churned as she contemplated a series of endless days of rapes and beatings at the whim of the merry looking men walking along alone or in small groups, some leading bound and gagged slave girls behind them.

  The other girls could barely contain their wonderment. They gawked at the surreal surroundings, stumbling from time to time as their fascination with what they saw overcame their ability to keep a steady pace in the coffle. Mary squeezed tears from her eyes as she realized that the abasement and abuse she had suffered at the hands of the black giants was a mere prelude to her future life. Only Sheila was nonplussed by what they saw. She had discovered a raw lust inside her that yearned for satisfaction. As each man passed, she imagined his steel hard cock plunging deep into her sheath, the heat of his meat in her mouth. Something had broken in her and the creature that had emerged yearned for continuous sexual fulfillment.

  The women were led to a small building, not unlike the one from which they had emerged. Two black robed guards stood outside of it, armed with the dreaded batons. A large, steel door was opened for them and they were led inside. There was an elevator, similar to the one they had arisen from the training dungeon in. They waited as they heard its mechanism rumbling, signaling its slow rise from below.

  When the door opened, it was crammed with naked, bound women. They were gagged and they had colored tags around their necks. All of them were beautiful and shapely. They were shod in sharp, red high heels. Without ceremony, they pressed out of the elevator and streamed out the door that the girls had just entered. Their bodies brushed against each other and the girls’ as they desperately sought exit. Their heels clip clopped on the stone tile floor as they forced their way out. Unbeknownst to the new slaves, they had carefully timed schedules to meet. To be late for their assignments would risk a fierce discipline.

  After the bevy of frantic beauties had left, the girls were urged into the elevator. It descended slowly. When it stopped and the door opened, they were hustled out. Another small crowd of bound and gagged women was grouped outside the elevator waiting to go up. The coffle of girls was led past them.

  A steel door sat at the center of the wall opposite the elevator. The guard who was escorting them swiped a card through a security device and then entered a code of numbers on a key pad. Each card was keyed to a specific code number. This way, if anyone got the key alone, it would be useless. Also, if someone were able to discover the code number of one of the guards, it would be of no avail unless they had the card as well. And the final security precaut
ion was a visual observation of a guard inside the door through a wide angled camera. The camera had the ability to scan the entire vestibule outside the elevator.

  The door opened with a loud grinding and a deep thump as solid steel bolts were slid out of their lodging places in the wall. When the door opened, the girls entered a small hallway. At the end was another steel door operated by yet another guard on the other side. It was the guard who was stationed inside the hallway who swiped his card this time. The card he used was recoded daily, tying in the identity number of the guard and a new code number for the keypad. The same procedure was used for slaves on their way out. No woman exited the Slave Center without being bound and gagged and wearing a color coded tag around her neck denoting her destination.

  The girls entered a large room with a semi-circular wall opposite them. In the middle of the wall was a small stage on which two women were in the midst of a passionate embrace. Numerous other women were strewn around on the floor kneeling in stiff backed positions, the hands upturned on their thighs. The stage was sunken about ten feet below the level of the floor. The women were kneeling on ledges that descended to the level of the stage. The effect was of a small amphitheatre.

  Projected onto the semicircular wall behind and to the right and left of the stage, were videos of women either engaged in various sexual acts with men and other women, or suffering the torment of a whip, or some other torturous device. The girls watched the shifting tableaus with wide eyed amazement. There was no sound from the videos, but they were more than life-sized and the shrieks and pleas of the tortured women in them begging for the abatement of pain could easily be discerned.