Klitzman's Isle (The Klitzman Stories Book 1) Page 9

  All eyes were on the spectacle unfolding on the dais. The guards were uniformly grinning as they took in the steady pummeling of the tormented woman. Even the girl on Rukimo’s lap was transfixed by what she saw.

  The whipping of the helpless naked and hooded woman continued unmercifully. She squirmed and danced as each blow fell. A high pitched wail could be heard emanating from her gag. The guard handling the whip had crossed to the woman’s front, and I could see bright lines of red rise immediately on the tortured flesh as he began to torment her breasts, belly and thighs. The girl was screaming loudly behind her gag while she twisted and turned in futile attempts to avoid the cane’s painful bite.

  I had never witnessed a whipping. I had seen men beaten, I had seen women slapped around, but the steady, remorseless application of pain to a woman’s body was novel to me. There was something strangely exciting about watching the tender flesh writhe and twist in response to the blows. The woman’s breasts jerked wildly about, forced into incessant motion by her desperate movements. Sweat dripped from her body, making it glisten. The muted groans and screams of pain sent chills up and down my spine. I could feel my cock hardening as the clear message of physical dominance of the whipped woman was brought home to me. Soon, I knew, she would be opened for the pleasure of the men in the room. No one would ask her permission.

  I looked over at the woman on Rukimo’s lap. Her face was a picture of horror as she witnessed the abuse of her friend. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She had to know that what she was witnessing was her own future, her own fate. Soon, she would face the same or a similar ordeal. From where I sat, I could see that she was ready to do anything to avoid it.

  The whipping of the woman on the dais finally stopped. She hung seemingly lifeless in her chains. Only her low moans gave evidence that she retained consciousness. Her body was criss-crossed with welts. She had suffered a terrible beating and, because of the hood, which blocked out all sight and sound, she had no idea why or by whom she was being tortured.

  Two of the guards went over to the side of the room where I saw a small brazier that had been apparently lit before we came in. The coals were beginning to gleam red. Two bars of iron sat in the fire, their ends buried in the searing heat. I speculated on their prospective use and I recalled the scarred ‘k’ I had seen on the slave Adriana this morning. I expected that I would see the same mark on the two women before us ere long.

  The girl on Rukimo’s lap was sobbing. Her whole body heaved with panic and fear. Rukimo’s jet black hand was crammed between her thighs. His other hand was massaging a breast. The girl’s breasts were large and bulbous, yet seemed small compared to Rukimo’s massive mitt. Her flesh was white, tender, a sharp contrast to the dark and rough hand that had captured it.

  Rukimo spoke to the girl softly, “Well, darling, have you ever seen anything like that? Would you like to take your turn?”

  The girl’s eyes pleaded to be spared the other girl’s ordeal. A small whine escaped her gag. Her nipples, surrounded by large, dark areolae, were stiff with fear. She shook he head desperately. More tears cascaded down her face.

  “Well,” Rukimo continued, “let’s have a little chat and we’ll see what happens. O.K.?” The girl nodded desperately.

  Pushing the girl’s head down, Rukimo used both his hands to unfasten the leather straps that held the gag into her mouth. He pulled her head back and placed his hand on the outside of the gag. He looked her in the eyes.

  “Now, we must be quiet, darling. No outbursts, please. And you must answer all of my questions, do you understand?”

  The girl, her brow furrowed with worry, nodded again. Rukimo pulled the long, thick leather gag from her mouth.

  I could see the girl’s trembling lips as she exercised her jaw, finally free from its brutal extension by the gag. She was no teenager, probably about 25 or 26. But her relative maturity had surely not prepared her for what she had just witnessed. She could have never guessed that one day she would be held a naked, bound prisoner in an unknown land and at the mercy of harsh, unscrupulous men. She was probably very brave. She and her friend had risked doom by spying on Klitzman’s operations. That took nerve. But two days of sensory deprivation, being flown thousands of miles to an unknown destination, kept naked and confined for many hours, had certainly eroded her inner strength. And now she had witnessed the callous, casual beating of her friend. She could be forgiven for quaking in fear.

  Rukimo elbowed her legs wider apart and I could see that he had his fingers jammed into her sex. Whether the product of fear, or of Rukimo’s manipulation of her flesh, I did not know, but Rukimo’s fingers were glistening with her moisture. He moved his stocky black fingers in and out of the pinkish hole with ease. I could see the nascent signs of physical excitement on her chest, red blotches rising on her alabaster skin.

  Rukimo started to interrogate the girl.

  “Now, darling, tell me your name.”

  The girl looked taken aback at the direct question and the opportunity to speak. The words were difficult for her to get out. Her voice was faint, almost indiscernible.

  “M-my name is Lois G-gardner,” the girl replied unsteadily.

  “Well, Lois Gardner, are you what you pretend to be? We have your identification. It says that you are a reporter for the New York Gazette. Is this true?”

  “Yes,” the girl squeaked in reply.

  “Well we have checked and we could find no record of a Lois Gardner on the staff of the New York Gazette. Are you sure that you want to keep that story?”

  “It’s true, it’s true,” the girl blurted out. “I’m a free lancer. They gave me credentials so that I could get some cooperation from the American Embassy and the Brazilian Government.” Her voice was desperate. She had to realize that if Rukimo believed she was lying that she would soon take a turn on the dais.

  Rukimo kept up a relentless questioning of the girl. What was the name of her editor? What magazines had she written for in the past? Where did she live? Where did she go to school? These were all questions designed to blow her cover if she was indeed more than she seemed to be. If the information was false, it could be easily checked. And it would be hard to get all the details of a cover story right under the duress the frightened girl was subject to in this dimly lit dungeon.

  The questioning shifted to the other girl. Her name was Delia Fremont. She was a photographer. They had met only days before their trip to South America. No, they were not lovers. Lois didn’t know much about her except she said that she was from the Midwest. Delia was the one with the local contacts. Delia had proposed going into the jungle to find the landing zone. Delia had gotten the Jeep. Delia had gotten the directions.

  Lois’s voice grew somewhat calmer now as she recovered her sense of speech. I could detect a slight pant to her breath. Rukimo had continued to manipulate her pussy throughout the interrogation and its effects were telling. Lois took advantage of a pause to try and close her thighs. Rukimo responded instantly by twisting and turning the lips to her sex. Lois moaned in pain.

  “Don’t try and hide your pretty little cunt, Lois,” Rukimo taunted her. “Everyone wants to see it. I think Harry here wants to fuck it. Don’t you Harry?”

  I felt a lump in my throat. It wasn’t from fear, it was from unbridled passion. I had never felt so hot for a fuck as I did now.

  “Sure,” was all that I managed to eke out.

  “See, darling Lois, you’re going to have to please Harry soon. And my other friends too. I just want to get you good and wet so that their cocks will go in nice and easy.”

  Lois was cringing as Rukimo’s words sank into her. She was going to be gang banged and there was no power in the world that was going to stop it. She began to plead with Rukimo.

  “Oh, please don’t do this, please. My newspaper will pay you. I won’t say anything about what I saw. Please,” she begged piteously.

  “My darling, you are never going back to New York,” Rukimo answered her. “We want
you here. You are now the property of Mr. Klitzman. He wants you to learn to be a good little whore. And I think your lesson should begin now.”

  The pitiful creature looked forlornly around the room for help. All she saw were the lustful eyes of Rukimo’s crew. And me. I too lusted after this unhappy girl. My cock was hard with desire. Anthony had been right. Prison was never like this.

  Rukimo grabbed Lois’s face with his broad, gnarly hand. He squeezed her cheeks harshly. She whimpered in pain.

  “You are going to get down on your knees, slave, and you are going to suck my cock,” he told her. “When you are done, we will have a little surprise for you. If you don’t do a good job, you will take your friend’s place on the dais.”

  Lois nodded her head, denoting her submission to Rukimo’s demand. He pushed her off of his lap and opened his robe. His thick, black cock was at high attention. Lois sank to her knees, tears cascading down her face. She looked up at Rukimo’s implacable eyes. There was no pity there. Only cruelty. Slowly, she bent at the waist, shuffled forwards on her knees and engulfed the sleek head of Rukimo’s tool between her trembling lips.

  The whiteness of Lois’s skin made Rukimo’s seem all the darker. Her head bobbed up and down rapidly as if she wanted to hasten the end of her ordeal. I had a side view of her face and I could see her lips distend and contract as she ran them up and down Rukimo’s ebony manhood. But Rukimo had no desire to abbreviate his enjoyment of Lois’s mouth. He grabbed her head with his hands and pressed her down on his cock, forcing it into her throat. I could hear the abject woman gag and choke. As she struggled for air Rukimo leaned over and spoke softly into her ear.

  “Now, my dear, I want you to take your time on my cock. Feel its strength with your tongue. We have all day to play. Make me believe you enjoy it.”

  He released the pressure on Lois’s head and she came up for air. He allowed her two quick gulps and he pressed her head back to its task. Now she had the rhythm Rukimo wanted. Slowly, she rose and fell. Rukimo leaned back in the chair, his eyes closed, letting the pleasurable sensations flow through him. For a good ten minutes, Lois worked Rukimo’s rod. Her breasts jiggled tantalizingly as she made her best efforts to please her captor. Rukimo opened his eyes and looked at me.

  “Would you like to fuck her, Harry?” he asked. “Get behind her and fill her pussy with your meat. I’ll bet it’s nice and tight.”

  He didn’t have to ask me twice. I loosened my robe and fell behind the girl. Her legs were pressed together and I had to spread them wider with my hands. Her thighs were sweaty and hot. I reached between her legs and felt her pussy from behind. It was still wet from Rukimo’s ministrations. I pressed my fingers inside, distending the lips. I could smell her involuntary arousal. Its pungent odor enflamed my passion. I pressed my hot piece against her loins and thrust forwards. I slid right in.

  Lois began to whimper again as she suffered another unwanted violation of her body. But I paid her muffled protests no mind as the wet warmth of her channel triggered a wave of pleasure in my brain. I began to thrust, at first slowly, but soon, my lust began to over whelm me and I pumped harder and faster.

  Rukimo laughed. “Let me know when you’re going to come, Harry. We’ll fill her with our spunk from both ends at once.”

  I grunted in reply. It did not take long and I felt the telltale tingling in my balls. All of my consciousness was focused on my prick as it began to throb. “I’m going to come,” I shouted. “I’m coming!”

  Pulse after pulse of pleasure shot through me as I emptied my balls into her womb. I could hear Rukimo’s grunts and the protesting whinny of the girl, evidencing Rukimo’s delivery of a load of hot sperm into her mouth. She shuddered and rocked against me. Her passion had risen too and I could feel her contractions with my cock as she orgasmed. She didn’t need to be trained as a whore, she already was one.

  I slowly recovered from my explosion of lust. I rubbed my hands across the fine white globes of the girl’s rear. They were soft and hot, fleshy, but yet hard. She was a fine piece all right. My softened cock popped out of her loins and I pulled myself to my feet. Rukimo was busy wiping his cock’s last drops of cum over Lois’s face. She was still whimpering.

  “A good blow job, Lois, I can see you’ve had some experience. You’ll fit in well here,” Rukimo said to the girl tauntingly. “There’s just one more piece of business and then I’m going to leave you to the pleasures of my friends.”

  Rukimo snapped his fingers, and the guards, who had been watching Lois’s initiation into her new life with undisguised lust, sprang into action. One guard stepped up on the dais and locked his legs around the legs of Delia, who was still dangling from her chains, oblivious to the rape of her friend. Another guard came from behind Delia carrying a long rod with a red hot tip.

  Pulling Lois to her feet by her hair, Rukimo directed her attention to the other woman.

  “Now, dear Lois,” he said in his deep, gruff musically accented voice, “now that your friend and you have become Mr. Klitzman’s property, you need to be marked appropriately. This way if you get lost or run away, people will know where to bring you back. I want you to take a good look, because your turn will come next.”

  Lois looked up and saw the tall, broad shouldered African holding what could be nothing other than a branding iron. He smiled at her, his bright white teeth gleaming. Lois could not believe her eyes. “Oh, god, no!” she cried out. “Oh, god, please don’t do this, please! Oh, no, no, no!” She was trembling as Rukimo held her head still, directed at the tableau on the dais. Her knees must have buckled because her body sagged. But Rukimo’s grip kept her standing, forced to witness the barbarous act that was about to be performed.

  “Cattle,” I thought. “They brand cattle.” Were these women to be no more than two footed cattle? Were all the female prisoners here no more than livestock, pretty, compliant, pleasurable animals? Apparently that was what they were, and what Lois and Delia were about to become.

  Now Delia, of course, had no inkling of the cruel indignity she was about to experience. She must have been confused when the guard’s body pressed up against hers. Was she about to be raped? Was she to feel the bite of the lash once again? He was holding her body immobile, his black limbs entwined with her white ones. Her helmeted head bobbed nervously over the shoulder of her assailant. Suddenly, the guard with the branding iron stepped forward. Lois shrieked as the flaming red end, the bright, cursive “k”, was pressed into Delia’s rear. There was a sizzling sound and a distinct odor of burning flesh.

  It was hard to believe that anyone so thoroughly gagged could make as much noise as emanated from Delia. Although muffled, her scream of pain tore through the room as the shocking pain coursed through her body. Her torso seemed to jump in place. The guard who held her struggled to keep her still. The brand burned into her flesh for a full three seconds, seconds that I was sure felt like an eternity to the tortured woman. What could she be thinking, deprived of all sight and sound for so long? Processes were at work on her that she could not control. The terrible sting of the brand was but a harbinger of what was to come. She was being turned into an object, an unperson.

  Lois’s shrieks had subsided into blubbering tears. One of the guards released Delia from her chains. The abused woman fell into the other guard’s arms. He quickly drew her off of the stage. Another guard took Lois by the arm. It was her turn.

  Lois realized at once what was afoot. She vainly tried to pull away from the guard, but he had her arms firmly in his hands. He easily pulled her up onto the dais. She had gone limp and her feet dragged along the floor. As she was brought to the dangling chain, she began to beg and cry. “Please don’t brand me, oh, please!” she cried forlornly. “I’ll do anything you say, I’ll do anything! Please! Please!”

  One guard held her up by her hair as the other unlocked her hands from behind her. She was twisting and turning frantically, flailing her hands and arms about. The brawny guard easily captured first one arm, an
d then the other, and affixed them to the bracelets that hung on the end of the chain. The woman’s face was a grotesque grimace as she desperately struggled with her captors. She swung a foot out at one of the guards, which he sidestepped easily. The other responded by a sharp jab to Lois’s stomach. She gasped in surprise and pain.

  The blow to Lois’s stomach ended her resistance. The chain was pulled higher so as to extend her body until just her toes touched the floor. She was drawing deep breaths, struggling for air as a result of the blow to her midsection. Everyone stood still while she regained her breath.

  When she had recovered, Lois looked forlornly around the room. “Was this really going to happen?” her expression seemed to say. She met only cold, stone hard faces.

  Rukimo signaled to the guard by the brazier who brought another red tipped branding iron up to the dais. The air was still pungent with the scent of Delia’s burnt flesh. She was still moaning as she lay where she had been dropped to the floor, her hands reaffixed behind her back. A long, pitiful whine escaped Lois’s lips as she saw the branding iron brought forth. She looked over to Rukimo, her eyes imploring, tears running down her cheeks.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked him.

  Rukimo rose to his full height. All playfulness was out of his voice now. He radiated power and cruelty.

  “We’re going this, Ms. Gardner, or should I say soon to be the former Ms. Gardner, because you’re a nosy cunt. Nosy cunts get disposed of, Ms. Gardner. Just be thankful that you and your friend are young and desirable enough to be kept here as slaves. Because the alternative would be a little swim with the sharks in Limpala Bay. I invite you to scream your loudest, Ms. Gardner, it will be the last sound you make as a human being.”

  Quickly, a guard stepped in front of the distended woman and wrapped his body around hers. I could see her face poking up over the blacked robed figure. Her eyes were scrunched closed, her face distorted in fear. The other guard stepped forward.