Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. Contains adult themes. The author does not condone any of the actions depicted in this work. Please do not read if you are easily offended, or find it difficult to distinguish between fantasy and reality.

Author’s Note: I would greatly appreciate any feedback whatsoever, any suggestions or ideas for the continuation of the story or the characters would also be much appreciated. My email is [email protected] so please don’t hesitate to get in contact. Enjoy.

The smoke from the stubbed out cigarette curled into the air in thin blue wispy tails. As he pored over the documents, the greying detective’s furrowed brow sweated slightly. Years of working on this case had consumed him, costing him his wife, his family, his house and most of his friends. All he had left was work and work was this case. Despite repeated calls from the top to leave it and move on, he kept coming back, obsessively intent on solving it. He woke thinking about it, went to sleep thinking about it, even thought about it while taking a shit. He knew he was a stereotypical detective consumed by a case but the cliché was lost on him. For years it had been a dead end, mysterious disappearances inevitably ending as cold cases, allegations of people trafficking and high level corruption, as well as a distinct lack of interest from his superiors who he thought were supposed to care about cases like these. His drinking and smoking had spiralled out of control in the last couple of years and the few people who still cared about him had been very concerned about his health.

And now it was back again. That afternoon, Detective Daniel Hanneman had received a call from Berlin about three British schoolgirls missing in Munich. Britain was pressuring German law enforcement to find them and catch those responsible. Given how similar this disappearance was to his many others, his superiors had given him the case, though his district commissioner had seemed curiously uninterested in such a top priority case. Before him were all his files from the previous cases, his laptop open with the files he had just been sent. Lighting another cigarette, he gazed absently at the pictures of the three missing British girls. They fitted the profile of the others he had been looking for; young and gorgeous. He was riled that it took a few precious English bitches to go missing before his superiors were even slightly interested in his work. Still, at least it was finally being taken seriously. Cradling his coffee cup, he took a long drag and contemplated the display in front of him. Another night of very little sleep, searching for some crucial elusive clue, awaited him.

There must be something, he thought, to connect the victims. Maybe they had gone somewhere where they were spotted and taken. Ten girls had gone missing in the last two years, all in the same area. Daniel looked at the map he had created, red circles showing the places tourists and young people might go; bars, nightclubs hotels, parks. Looking at the girls’ files and then his map, he spotted something. When the faces of the three girls were published, they had received few calls, mostly from perverts saying what they hoped happened to them. But one claimed to have seen them walking down a street lined with a dozen or so bars, very close to their hotel and in the right area. Daniel cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, probably a result of his lack of sleep over the last few days. He looked at the time – 01:20. If he hurried he could canvass a few places before they closed. It would be more useful than sitting here staring at the same documents for hours on end. Feeling old and a little worse for wear but with a slight spring in his step, Daniel prepared to leave.

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Examining the two women like cuts of meat or prints of wallpaper, Greta frowned in concentration. Her customer was of many years standing with very specific and very high standards. Though this was one of his less eccentric requests, she was still keen to get it absolutely right and wasn’t rushing her decision. Looking from one female body to the other, she sized them up, her experience picking up details the untrained eye might miss to compare how they stood, their facial expressions, the tone of their muscles, even their nails and haircuts with the requirements. One woman especially troubled her, a tear rolling down its cheek. Without the two naked women, this could have passed for just a normal business meeting, a sharply dressed women in an expensive suit addressing two similarly well dressed men in an office both unremarkable and expensive. But this was clearly a very different encounter. The two men firmly held their charges upright as the stern blonde woman, her eyes fixed on the body of the woman troubling her, came around the desk for a closer look.

“Stand her up properly,” Greta impatiently snapped at the man holding the woman. He immediately pulled up the woman’s arms, forcing her to straighten even more. Greta’s piercing stare moved over every inch of black skin as the woman stood trembling before her. With a brusque stride designed to instil fear, Greta stalked round the woman, checking her curves and skin for any blemishes that would make her unsatisfactory for her client. She ran her hand down the cleft of the woman’s buttocks, her white hand sharply contrasting the deep mahogany of the smooth skin. Keeping touching to a minimum as her client had requested yet she had to feel this girl’s rump. To almost everyone else the girls were stunningly attractive; slender yet curvy, both with toned bodies, proud and pert breasts standing on their chests, unblemished skin and soft but sexy and feminine features. But Greta saw girls like this almost daily and had to look deeper. Giving a buttock a firm squeeze, she appeared satisfied for she went back to her chair and looked at the paperwork. On receiving the request several weeks ago, she had immediately set out to procure the items for her client. Some extensive searching had delivered results and Greta had narrowed the shortlist to just these two, a black from the Parisian suburbs and an Asian from a boarding school in Macau. In truth it didn’t matter to Greta where they came from, only that they were up to scratch. These two were.

“Yes, they’ll do just fine,” Greta said without looking at the two men, “send them on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two repeated in unison before frogmarching the two women out of the office.

Greta sat back and relaxed. The stress of this assignment had weighed heavily on her for the last few days and finally resolving it was a huge relief. She had done her job brilliantly, meeting the request exactly. Admittedly the two she had chosen would have made a welcome addition to her own collection let alone his much smaller but growing one. The girls she had supplied him over the years had been almost exclusively white Europeans and she knew from experience that some diversity was always good. In fact, when her thoughts turned to her own collection, she realised it only had one properly dark one and a few mixed raced ones, though it was well stocked with Asians. To that end she made a diary note to send her scouts to look for some suitable specimens. Returning to the present, she brought up the webcams surveilling the basement and looked with pleasure at each of her new toys. The last few days could hardly have gone better but she was still worried. In a few days she had some very special guests coming, very loyal customers, and they would expect quality. While the new acquisitions would be perfect for them, Greta was worried they would still be too raw. It was a race against time with none to lose so Greta switched off the monitor and gathered her things. Another long day. Though not as long as it would be for her new slaves.

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Lucy was woken this time not by the dreaded alarm clock but by a mechanical click and a whir as the electronic door slowly swung open. The dark corridor meant Lucy couldn’t clearly see the figure standing at the entrance. It wasn’t Mehmet or Hasan and though it looked like a woman, something about its elegant posture made her think it wasn’t Greta. She strained to make out the details but soon didn’t have to try when it stepped into the half light of the room. Moving her eyes slowly up from dainty feet to silken black hair, the prone girl’s face was a picture of both surprise and wonder intermixed with some fear. In front of her was a classic Oriental beauty. The nails of her feet were beautifully maintained and painted a dark shade of vivid red, mounted on a pair of stupendously high heels which shaped her long golden brown legs fabulously or at least the one visible through a long black patterned cheongsam hanging to just below her knee, a large slit in one side running up almost to her hip. Lucy’s eyes continued the long journey up the woman’s elegant body, the figure hugging dress accentuating the athletic body lying beneath, the tight fabric tantalisingly tracing while concealing the woman’s bosom. Her neck seemed to go on forever, adding to the grace oozing from every pore. Her face was like the most exquisite figure on some priceless Chinese porcelain, her features soft and nuanced but emotionless. With her jet black hair tied delicately, a single jade pin holding the luscious black locks in place, the woman’s beauty and sheer presence was mesmerising.

“Come.”

The voice matched the face perfectly, spoken with a practiced grace which covered up almost entirely an accent just hinted at. With that single word, in one fluid movement the woman turned and left, only her perfumed scent lingering in the dark room. Lucy was nervous. She and her friends had experienced nothing but horror in this wretched place and she expected this to be no different. That she hadn’t been personally tortured by this woman yet didn’t mean that by following her she would not be. Yet despite her misgivings, Lucy knew nothing was gained by disobeying. So she staggered to her feet, the lack of sleep and physical exertions of the last days making her weak and stiff, and left, to follow the perfumed trail of the exotic visitor. Her walk was ungainly, the prolonged masturbating of the last few hours making her pussy lips red and sore. She crossed one arm over her chest and placed the other at her crotch, trying to protect what little modesty she had. Turning the corner, Lucy saw the woman standing at the end of the corridor. It was amazing how fast she covered the ground, her eyes beckoned the stumbling girl to follow. And Lucy did, her long legs dragging along the floor as she tried to push herself down the stone hall. Eventually she caught up with the oriental beauty who silently opened a door to her right and glided through. Lucy silently followed. As the woman moved effortlessly up some stone steps. Lucy paused then wearily climbed, hoping for only a short flight given her stiff legs. Still covering herself and with a bowed head, Lucy’s mind swam in an ocean of memories of what had been and fear of what was to come.

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Tied in very different positions, the two girls in the basement had felt the hours go very slow indeed. The stone walls echoed with the rhythm of the machine oscillating in and out of Holly, punctuated by the two victims’ intermittent groans of pain and shame. The total darkness made the mechanical sound even more terrifying, sounding like a sinister laundry in a rough neighbourhood. But the two teens weren’t interested in how their torture chamber sounded, focussed as they were on the pain racking their bodies and the fear and depression consuming their minds.

Olivia tried to keep quiet to avoid irritating her new wound which, though she didn’t know it, had been so expertly done as to heal quickly. Unluckily for her. The original sharp excruciating agony had reduced to a dull ache that only sharpened when she involuntarily moved her mouth. And it wasn’t just her mouth that ached. The abuse of the last few days had made her whole body sore, making her groan each time it twitched. Her breasts were bruised from being squeezed and twisted, one nipple in particular swollen and reddened. Her pussy was in continual pain. Her brutal rape when they first woke had been painful enough but each time she had been tortured there made it worse. But what hurt more than the physical pain was the psychological torment of knowing there was no immediate escape. She had already been forced to degrade herself and, being somewhat streetwise, knew very well the reason for her latest mutilation. She had watched enough porn, seen enough pictures on the internet and heard enough people talking to know why Greta wanted her to have a longer tongue. Olivia tried her best not to think about what the future held but she simply couldn’t shake the terror gripping her. Only by blanking her mind could she hold back the tears.

Across the room Holly was an even more sorry case. She couldn’t help but whimper even if the mechanical clunking of the machine, rhythmically pounding her red raw pussy, drowned out the sound of her pathetic mewling. Having not been fucked at all in her first eighteen years, she had now been fucked almost continuously for the last four hours. In truth she had lost track of time, the sound of her automated rapist fading into the background. But what hurt most was not the constant battering of her buttocks causing a pattern of persistent bruising to develop with each impact but, oddly, that she had cum many times. She had tried not to but having been roundly fucked for hours she was completely unable to stop it, each orgasm coming quicker and quicker, her pussy now as slick as an oil spill from both the lube being squirted out the top of the rubber dildo and her own juices which had begun to pool on the floor beneath her. Her whole body shook with each climax, the wave of pleasure washing over her then instantly replaced with the underlying pain of her much abused body. Each orgasm was only minor, the monotonous fucking stimulating her slowly and methodically, but the constant stimulation was almost as emotionally draining as the subsequent pain. At first she had almost enjoyed it as a rare moment of pleasure in an ocean of pain. Although she hadn’t had sex before entering this basement of horrors, Holly was no stranger to an orgasm. But the machine’s constant brutal fucking while bound and restrained was a far cry from the tender touch of her fingers in her comfy bed at home. She was soon dreading each impending orgasm, steadily forcing her to associate pleasure with pain. Worse was the throbbing agony of her mountainous breasts, now just globes of pain, so bruised that they hurt even without being touched. But with her head and arms firmly clamped in heavy wooden stocks, her heaving breasts were forced to slap the hard wood, causing even more pain to her magnificent chest. Although the sound of her giant mounds thudding into the stocks was quiet compared with the other sounds in the cellar, her whimper at each impact was audible and now did nothing to relieve her misery. And the intense heat she felt inside her latex bodysuit caused so much sweat to pour off her that, combined with her tears and pussy juices, it had shrunk slightly, adding yet more discomfort. Her body racked with pain, Holly felt like an animal in an intensive farm just waiting to be slaughtered. And, she suspected, her torment wouldn’t end soon.

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An amber glow was cast over the metal forest of bowing machines stretching as far as the eye could see in a desert landscape. The white haired man was used to the view but it still made him smile as he rubbed his swollen belly. Jeremiah spent so little time down there now that he enjoyed having the photograph on the wall of his home office, a reminder of where his fortune had started. All that black gold beneath the surface allowed him to sit here in $10,000 snakeskin boots in a room furnished with the most expensive trappings money could buy. It wasn’t the best thing about his wealth and influence though. With a groan of pleasure, he looked down at the blonde head bobbing up and down on his erect prick. Placing his right hand on the back of her head, he pushed down, forcing the girl to gag as his cock slipped down her throat. Despite her training she still needed work; her struggle at deep throating him would have to be ironed out. Three weeks he’d had the clever little college girl and despite his best efforts she still wasn’t pleasing him as he expected. It would take time but he was sure he’d get her there eventually. Certainly with Greta Schweinberg’s help, he would turn her into a good little sex slave in no time.

Still, he had to admit she had come a long way from when he had first got her. All those trips to Germany had whetted his appetite and with Greta’s instructions he had set about getting his own little plaything. When he’d seen this one, he’d known she’d was perfect. It had been an easy decision to give her the internship. Her face when she woke in his basement had been a picture, her shock and fear a permanent memory. He had thoroughly enjoyed taking the little slut down a few notches, her Harvard education doing nothing to stop his whips, his restraints or his dick. He’d fucked her every which way, using her in ways she couldn’t possibly have imagined, causing her pain beyond her wildest nightmares. Of course there’d been a small investigation, a trivial matter since his army of lawyers did not allow the police anywhere near him. So while people still looked for this bit of skirt, she had her mouth full of his engorged prick, his glans slipping deep into her throat. Six minutes in and he was becoming restless, the feeling of her hot moist tongue on his sensitive penis one of life’s great gifts. Standing up, he grabbed her head with both hands as the girl continued to bob up and down his shaft. Without warning he slid his cock from her mouth, enjoying the way she still reached out eager to please him or at least to avoid punishment. With just the tip of his dick inside the cavern of pleasure that was her mouth, Jeremiah thrust forward, slamming his cock against the back of her throat. If her technique was better he would have let her just finish him off by herself but he wanted to fuck that pretty little face of hers.

“Look up, you stupid whore,” the Texan bellowed at the girl, “Remember I wanna see those eyes.”

Continuing to thrust forward and back, he swept her hair to one side to gaze into her eyes as he face-fucked her. The girl looked up, her mouth open like an obedient dog, her long eyelashes perfectly framing some stunning sapphire blue eyes that glinted in the light, silently crying for help. Looking down, he was sure she knew by now he wouldn’t show her any mercy, pounding his dick forward and back, his big round belly occasionally obscuring that picture perfect face. Tightly gripping her hair in his hands, he threw his head back in pleasure, the brutal mouth rape filling the room with gagging as he pumped his dick in and out of her.

Having done everything to give him pleasure, Melissa now just knelt obediently and allowed her mouth to be used as a sex toy. She had experienced this a lot over the last three weeks but was still not used to it. It was impossible to believe this could happen to anyone in the 21st century, especially in the United States. Thinking back further, she tried to remember her life before all this suffering. On her application for the generously paid internship, she had felt her life was fantastic. A high achieving student at a prestigious college with a great group of friends, a loving supporting family, a clever boyfriend who was also a very good looking varsity track and field athlete – and then she had got a sought after position in a major corporation, her future life the envy of many contemporaries. Yet all that was gone. One moment she was having coffee with the head of the company and the next she had woken bound and helpless in a dark basement. In the days since, he had raped, tormented, tortured, humiliated and destroyed her, taking away all sense of self worth. Though determined to escape, she knew she would have to bide her time while obeying him as much as possible to avoid his various tortures and punishments. What depressed her most, though, was how arbitrary his painful torments were. Even obeying him completely, doing everything he asked, did not stop him causing her unimaginable pain, her screams of agony and tears of anguish seemingly music to his ears. Being very attractive, she could at least understand why this fat old man would just want to fuck her over and over but that did not explain the terrible tortures he gleefully inflicted or why he spoke to her like she was vermin. All she could do was wait, hoping someone would eventually rescue her from this living hell.

Jeremiah didn’t care what the little bitch thought as he rammed his dick down her throat. All he cared about right now was how her mouth around his dick pushed him closer and closer to climax. With a large groan, he forced his cock down her throat until it was buried right up to the hilt, enjoying the sound of her choking on his dick. His whole body shuddering, both hands forced the girl’s face hard into his crotch as he came, moaning loudly, shooting wads of his jizz down the girl’s spluttering throat and feeling her muscles convulsing around his cock as she tried desperately to breathe, swallowing what she could of his cum just to get some air. He listened as she coughed and spluttered on his cum, laughing as she fought desperately for air. He waited until he was sure she would be frantic with panic before he moved his hips back and allowed the girl some precious oxygen. A thick strand of cum stretched from the tip of his steadily softening cock to her dainty little mouth and more seed dribbled out of her mouth and onto her chin. She coughed again, bringing up more of his viscous discharge from her throat into her mouth. But Jeremiah was not happy.

“Don’t you dare cough that up,” he snarled, the pleasure of his orgasm now replaced by the pleasure of watching her degrade herself, “swallow every last drop. And be grateful, you little bitch.”

Melissa averted her eyes as she swallowed the semen, barely able to hide her disgust. She knew by now that she could only avoid further punishment by swallowing every last morsel of his cum. With her hands tied behind her, she had to use her tongue to swish around her chin to collect all she could. But even when she had, her ordeal did not end. She felt the stubby finger of her tormentor run itself across her face as if she were a child in a high chair, collecting all the spunk she couldn’t reach and scooping it into her mouth. Melissa was forced to humiliatingly suck his finger clean of the cum he had collected, trying not to cough as he forced his index finger and then his middle finger deep into her mouth. He squeezed the end of his dick to milk the last of his cum onto his fingers then once again forced his digits into her mouth, thrusting them back and forth as a pseudo phallus.

“That’s it,” Jeremiah smirked, “I bet you’ve developed quite a taste for cum now, you filthy whore. Show me that it’s all gone.”

With a heavy heart, Melissa steadily looked up at her captor, unsuccessfully attempting to hide her shame. Reluctantly she opened her mouth until eventually she stared up at him with her mouth gaping, her tongue stretched down to her chin. She felt like a dog performing for her owner, an analogy that wasn’t at all erroneous. She stared up at the man’s wrinkled, lecherous face as he brought his hand down and tilted her face from side to side, checking every last crevice of her mouth. Seemingly satisfied he stood up straight, still looking down expectantly at the kneeling girl.

“Come on, bitch,” he said with a flash of anger on his face, “show your fucking gratitude!”

Melissa closed her eyes, ready to deal with yet another act designed to humiliate her. She couldn’t decide which was the worst; the frequent sexual abuse he inflicted on her, the constant physical pain he caused or the psychological torment he put her through that steadily eroded this proud girl’s self esteem. They were all terrible beyond imagining and yet she didn’t need to imagine, they were happening. What made it worse was his appetite seemed to have no end for he continued to plumb new depths of despair that Melissa was constantly surprised she had. She still had a steely resolve to escape and bring him to justice, but she was beginning to question whether she would be here for years. The thought of spending her life in this lecherous fat cunt’s captivity chilled her to her bone. As if reading from a script, Melissa sighed and repeated exactly what he expected from her.

“Thank you for your cum, master.”

“You’re welcome, slave,” Jeremiah replied, “Have you forgotten something?”

With another sigh Melissa leaned forward and, with a delicacy that never failed to please Jeremiah, kissed the end of his cock, which now hung limply against his sagging scrotum. In the life she knew before she would never have thought about going anywhere near this man’s dick but now she had little choice but to virtually worship it. It was scarcely believable how far she’d fallen in just a few short weeks, from a successful and ambitious young woman to nothing more than a sexual slave.

“Good girl.” Jeremiah said patronisingly, patting his slave on the head to reinforce her subordination, “Stand up!”

He barked this last command at her, the transition between his tones shocking even Melissa, despite having grown to expect such raw anger coming from him. She obeyed immediately, struggling to her feet despite not being able to use her hands. Spreading her legs slightly she put out one high heel clad foot. Pausing to compose herself, she pushed up with her foot, rising quickly but unsteadily to both feet, using all her strength to raise herself off the floor. Tottering violently from side to side, she tried to stand up straight and still, desperate to avoid his wrath. The ridiculously tall high heels he had her wear were incredibly difficult to stand still on and she teeter-tottered like a new born gazelle as she stood in front of him, waiting nervously for what he would have her do next.

Jeremiah watched his captive sway from side, struggling to control herself on the stripper heels he forced her to wear. A good six inches high, they made her slightly taller than him but only because he let her. Anything she did was only because he allowed it. He couldn’t believe he had lived without such direct physical power over another person for so long. Moving back to sit on the edge of his desk, his eyes never left the girl standing uncertainly before him. In his life he could recall very few women so gloriously attractive. Everything about her was out of a teenage boy’s wet dream; long shapely legs, a tight arse, a toned flat stomach, dainty hands and feet, a face that could melt hearts and eyes that, for Jeremiah at least, were made to be filled with fear. Her crowning glories though were her breasts. When she had entered his office a month ago, his eyes had been irresistibly drawn to the mounds her crisp white short tried in vain to conceal. It had been all he could do not to leer at them while the stuck up bitch talked shit and it was the first job interview he had ever done with a raging hard on. As she left, he knew he would have to get his hands on those luscious tits, jacking himself off as he thought about squeezing his face between them. His first sight of them free of their fabric prison had been spectacular, each one a pristine example of the perfect breast. Although from a distance her tits seemed only slightly above average on her tall slender athletic body, one hands-on inspection proved this untrue. Checking her bra size confirmed Jeremiah had his very own pair of DDs to play with. And play with them he had. Over the last weeks, he had slapped them, twisted them, bound them, flogged them, slid his dick between them and done all manner of other tortures and torments. Anything he could think to do with those globes he had done, the more pain he caused the better. And now he had another idea.

Although she had done her best not to think about the pain she was in, she now had more time to think of the old man’s lecherous stare as it angrily focussed on her. Despite her blank face attempting to deny her tormentor pleasure, he was certain her body was screaming in pain, especially her much abused breasts. With her arms tied behind her back and her elbows tied tightly together, her tits were thrust out invitingly and he had taken the opportunity to adorn them appropriately. Running along the length of her torso were two leather straps passing on either side of her tits, forcing them together and culminating in one strap at her belly button. A thin strip of leather emanated from there between her pussy lips and along the crack of her arse, up her back before connecting with the rest of the mankini style outfit at her back. On each of her perfect pink nipples was a vicious clamp, biting into the sensitive nub with serrated teeth that did everything but break the skin, and the rest of her sensitive globes were pinched by many coloured plastic clothes pegs. Melissa’s tits had long since gone numb so each clothes peg didn’t cause her pain but gave a tingling undertone to the painful clamps on her nipples. She had been forced to walk round with the strap rubbing her sensitive sex all day, the leather rubbing her pussy lips raw. As well as the current tortures, the aches and pains of the previous few weeks kept her whole body in constant discomfort.

“OK, bitch,” Jeremiah said as he pulled his slacks up and put his shirt back on, “go stand in the fucking corner. Just a few more things to sort out then we can head off. We’ll get you properly trained over there.”

Melissa didn’t know what he was talking about when he mentioned over there, everything was still a shock and she tried to keep her thoughts from running away from her. Slowly, carefully, she stumbled over to the corner he wanted her to stand in, facing the wall so as not to distract her captor from his work. She used to pride herself on being strong and independent but now this intelligent beautiful young woman stood in a corner, naked, bound, tortured and began to weep.

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The smell was first thing that hit Lucy as she walked through the door behind the elegant Asian. Having smelt little but sweat, tears and fear over the last few days, the overpowering aroma of incense and sensual oils was more than welcome, the scent’s strength physically taking her aback. In front of her was a vivid red curtain emblazoned with a golden dragon. Behind it Lucy could hear the sound of Eastern music overlain by the occasional sounds of both men and women howling in apparent ecstasy. She stopped in her tracks as her senses were overwhelmed, halting the woman in front of her. One look of her sultry hazel eyes was enough to stir almost fear in Lucy who without thinking started walking again, still hobbling slightly, behind the black cheongsam. With amazing elegance, a long olive arm reached out and brushed aside the silk curtain hanging from the ceiling.

Lucy gasped at what she saw as she once again followed her guide. She could scarcely believe her eyes as she stumbled through the room, the pace of her tour seemingly slowed to allow her to take it all in. On all sides Lucy could see colours she had almost forgotten existed when she had been in the basement; red, gold, green, blue and royal purple. The scent she had experienced the other side of the curtain was even more powerful here, burning candles on all sides filling the room with the sweet smell of a Turkish bath house. What caught her attention most though was not the smell or the candles. All along the corridor walls were sheer curtains of fabric, behind which were scenes Lucy could scarcely believe, scenes straight out of an adult film, all manner of sex she could possibly imagine in plain view. As she stumbled behind the jasmine scented woman, she saw one man and one woman, two men and a woman, two, three, four women and a man; all possible variations seemed to be on offer. The variety was extraordinary too, from plain sex to combinations of domination and submission which were astounding, especially given the apparent willingness of the participants. Clearly the three girls had been taken not merely by a crazed trio but by some much larger and altogether more sinister operation. A click of the woman’s fingers stopped her from gawping at the sexual sights for too long, snapping her out of her dazed, almost trance like state and forcing her to stumble quickly to keep up. Seeing the end of the corridor, she wondered what new bizarre scenes lay beyond. As the woman brushed it aside Lucy was almost disappointed.

Beyond was another dark corridor, much less impressive than the room of sexual delicacies she had had just come from. What Lucy hadn’t seen in the room was the main entrance to the room, a large circular door which the clients exited and entered from. Despite its grand nature, a heavy set, crimson wooden door emblazoned once again with a large golden dragon, Lucy had failed to spot it, so engrossed was she in the x rated scenes all around her. Behind the scenes was a dark and dingy space that was much more like what she had experienced in her captivity. Without saying a word the elegant figure in front of Lucy continued walking then turned a sharp left to open a heavy wooden door. Lucy had to scamper to get through for she knew it would not be held open for her. As she entered, Lucy was taken aback by what she saw. It was not as dark as the other rooms she had been forced into but bathed in the light of many candles whose smells wafted exquisitely toward her. She could see the walls were a deep red, the dark shadows on the wall flickering in the candlelight. In the centre was a large porcelain bath giving off plumes of steam. Lucy could barely believe her eyes, her instincts telling her not to expect that the freshly run warm bath was for her. She stood still, awaiting instruction from her guide. With an elegant flourish, the dark-haired woman turned to face Lucy, her eyes expressing no emotion whatsoever. A piercing stare captivated Lucy’s attention as she stooped low, attempting to cover her body, a far cry from the proud confident girl of just a few days before.

“You are very lucky,” she spoke with the same practised English as before, everything about her oozing grace and elegance. The woman could see that the young English woman was taken aback by a statement she believed to be so obviously untrue, so she continued, “Mistress has chosen you. You will not be like so many of the girls that come through these doors; a piece of meat for all those old men to fuck and torture.”

Lucy knew the woman was talking about her friends. Clearly what she had watched on television as she was forced to fuck herself with the dildo had been a glimpse into their future, especially now she had seen the scale of the operation they had been brought into. Far from being kidnapped merely for the sick twisted enjoyment of a deranged woman and her obedient lust filled sidekicks, she realised they had been brought in as the newest additions to some underground international sex slave ring. It was like something off the news or some sick and twisted movie. Except that Lucy knew it was totally real and was happening. She listened to what she was hearing but her mind couldn’t help but wander as she contemplated how great was their hopeless situation.

“Instead you will work here,” the woman said with a clinical coldness, “with others who have been chosen. Your job is to please clients any way they like. You will also have the opportunity to assist Mistress and the clients as they have their fun. You will learn everything you need to be successful.”

Lucy was staggered at what she was hearing, yet she couldn’t help but be relieved at what she knew she was avoiding. As bad as she felt for her friends, she was relieved not to be perpetually subjected to what she had experienced and seen in that dungeon. It was almost as if, even this early, she was accepting her fate and learning to enjoy her new surroundings. She felt terrible thinking it but she felt some pride in being picked out as special. And as much as she knew she was analysing her situation too much, she was pleased to have escaped the situation she had been in. Indeed she was so relieved she wouldn’t be bent over and fucked with clamps on her nipples that she completely missed being expected to aid in torturing girls just like her friends.

“First you must be bathed and scented,” the woman continued, “then we can begin.”

With that, the elegant woman ushered her toward the steaming tub. Looking at it, Lucy’s mind raced, feeling as if she were betraying her friends by accepting this hospitality, giving her captors a legitimacy they didn’t deserve. Yet the water was so inviting and now she thought about it, the stench she gave off as well as the smell of sex from her genitals was obvious. One tentative step at a time, she inched toward the bathtub, each step a silent betrayal of her previous life. Closing her eyes, Lucy thought about what she was doing, feeling as if being drawn toward the bath accepted the situation she was in. But the combination of her discomfort and fear of refusing made her move inexorably toward the warm water. The scent of jasmine wafted tantalisingly as she approached the side of the white porcelain tub, her eyes opening enough to see rose petals littering the water’s surface. It was a luxurious ablution Lucy hadn’t been used to even when free. Approaching the first step, she slowly raised her foot and put it down. Her legs ached something ferocious and the water pulled her irresistibly. Moving faster, she scaled the steps until level with the water’s surface then took a deep breath and stepped forward.

As the water lapped her ankle, Lucy sighed. She had almost forgotten how wonderful warm water caressing her skin felt, the added bath oils giving her skin a silky kiss. She felt positively orgasmic as she sank into the water, the heat so intense she only just tolerated it. Just magical. Lucy couldn’t help but smile at the pleasure she felt in steadily lowering herself into the steaming water. For a moment she tried to forget the situation and just enjoy the bath, knowing at any moment it could disappear back into a world of shame and pain. Sinking deep into the bath, the water lapping around her neck, Lucy slid down and closed her eyes to float away into a dream world then slid further and submerged her head, momentarily escaping from the hell she was in.

———————————————————————–

Greta’s steps on the staircase signalled the beginning of the next session of torture for the other two victims. But over the din in the basement, neither Holly nor Olivia heard the click clack of the heels on the hard stone steps and so did not realise their next session of pain and humiliation was imminent. Greta chose to keep the lights off, preserving her entrance to maximise the girls’ surprise and fear. Despite the dark, she knew how many steps there were and strode down purposefully. As much as she knew it was essential to run her operation as a business, spending time down here was what she enjoyed the most. It would be fantastic to see what the night had done to her little pets. Already she could hear the rhythmic clunking of the mechanical dildo pounding into the abused pussy of the big titted cow she had so much enjoyed torturing. Seeing her broken little bitch locked in those stocks would be fantastic, as would squeezing those ridiculous melons with her talon like claws. Then there was the delight of the soon to be expert cunt licker who she had let off lightly so far. There would be plenty of time to have her fun with the pint sized princess though; it wasn’t as if she lacked for toys. So while it was a chamber of horrors for the two English schoolgirls, it was a palace of pleasure for Greta. Stepping off the final step she walked slowly across the floor.

The sounds were as magical as the sights that would soon greet her. As she drifted slowly across the floor she listened intently to the myriad of noises drifting through the room. First there was the loudest noise of all, a rhythmic bumping that sounding like a washing machine but much more exciting. What was really music to Greta’s ears though were the quieter sounds, the moans and whimpers of the two abused girls as they suffered the indignities she had forced on them. Olivia’s muffled groans were the pick of them and Greta stood over the table to listen. With her ear right next to the poor girl’s mouth, she smiled as she savoured the audible evidence of Olivia’s pain. Greta’s practiced persona was to express no emotion and smiling was a rare treat for her. Under the cover of darkness she could have a bit of fun, the element of surprise adding another twist to the plot of the girl’s torture. Fingers primed, Greta reached out and with a wide smirk, gripped Olivia’s left tit as hard as she could. Digging her talons into the soft pliant flesh, Greta listened to her whimpers grow louder. Like a conductor in front of an orchestra, Greta experimented by trying to change the sounds coming out of her muffled mouth. With her fingers pinching the soft pink flesh of her sensitive nipple, Greta listened to a muffled yelp which grew louder and higher pitched as the nub was roughly twisted, her sharp nails digging relentlessly into the babe’s tit.

Were her mouth not full of bandages, Olivia would have screamed her lungs out as Greta’s long nails bit into her nipple. At first she had been convinced she was having a heart attack such was the sudden and ferocious pain in her chest. It wasn’t until fingers twisted her areola that she realised one of her tormentors had returned to increase her misery. As her nipple was twisted like a dial on an old TV set, Olivia squealed like a pig, her mouth full of gauze preventing any real sound other than a whine from coming out. Though she had tried to keep her noises to a minimum for hours, there was nothing she could do this time, the pain Greta caused with just her fingernails being so intense. Wriggling did nothing as she firmly strapped in, her only option being to squeal as Greta’s other hand migrated over to assault the teen’s other breast, now violently twisting both nipples with relish. Olivia arched her back in pain as Greta tugged on her tits in the darkness. As she tried to muffle her screams, Olivia could hear unmistakeable laughter coming from the figure above her. It was still a shock to her that somebody could get so much enjoyment from the pain of another human being. As her tits were brutally pulled and twisted, Olivia squealed once again, her nipples feeling like they were being pulled off her chest. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the abuse of her tits ended and the room was suddenly illuminated.

“Lights!”

In the sudden light, Olivia saw the face of her tormentor, a woman who not only had her raped and tortured but had cut and physically maimed her, standing above her in the same leather dominatrix outfit from the first time she had woken in this hell hole. It was all so horrible and, as she looked helplessly at the grinning face of evil above her, Olivia couldn’t help but weep.

“Quit crying,” Greta spat, the smile on her face replaced with unimaginable rage, “or I’ll cut your fucking clit off.”

With that chilling threat, Greta walked round the table, inspecting Olivia’s slight but shapely frame. She did have a great figure and Greta knew she would explore it more over the next few days, especially that lovely long tongue of hers. She gave Olivia’s firm bouncy tits a squeeze as she moved down her body. They were exquisite, thought Greta, unusual on such a small girl. Although Holly’s melons took the prize for the best boobs in the little group, the bouncing tits on this cute bubbly cunt were certainly worth an honourable mention. Plenty of clients would go crazy over them, making excellent toys for them to play and punish her with. Trailing her long nails down her victim’s toned tummy, Greta eventually reached her crotch. Feeling a rough stubble, she made a note to give her toys a shave to keep them in perfect condition. Finally she reached the girl’s pussy, still red and looking very sore. Her fingers ran over the delicate pussy lips of the suffering girl before slipping inside the tight chute of her cunt. Greta wanted to make very clear how helpless the little bitch was and how she could do anything she wanted to any part of her body. It was a beautiful little cunt as well, pink but with pronounced lips and a lovely tight hole. Greta had really struck the mother load with this haul; three tight babes, each gorgeous in their own individual way. And English speaking was a big bonus. Just thinking of what she would personally do to their young lithe bodies over the next few days made Greta wet. Continuing to work her fingers in and out of Olivia’s snatch, she thought about it, barely registering the grip of Olivia’s pussy on her long well manicured fingers. But when she felt the girl’s natural reaction to secrete her juices over her fingers, Greta stopped; she did not want Olivia enjoying herself. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she licked them clean, savouring the taste of her young pussy juices. It was time, she thought, to attend to the other victim.

“Hasan,” Greta shouted up the stairs, his footsteps clattering on the heels of her voice, “sort out her bandages, have her fed and clean her up please.”

With that, Greta strode purposefully across the room, leaving Hasan to tend Olivia. Greta couldn’t stop smiling as she stared at the helpless girl locked in the stocks. Her hatred for everything Holly represented was visceral and watching the cunt humiliated was fantastic for the bitter German. On hearing heels clacking on the floor Holly looked up to see if Greta had anything in her hand to cause her more pain. Her doe like brown eyes quickly filled with tears, not just with the pain she was in presently but at the thought of more probably horrific torture. Greta knew the thoughts of her innocent little slave and did her best to play on them, fixing her gaze with a menacing and rage filled stare. Walking slowly, Greta put the fear of God into Holly, her utter helplessness only compounding the situation. Holly couldn’t tear her eyes away from the approaching dominatrix, not wishing to suffer any unpleasant surprises. Greta knelt, a look of faux sympathy on her face, her face inches away from the tear stained cheeks of the helpless girl.

“How did it enjoy its night of being fucked?” Greta asked, as sympathetic as a mother speaking to her child and stroking Holly’s face, “did it cum again and again?”

Greta waited, unsure whether Holly realised that her mistress expected an answer. Instead Holly looked straight into the eyes of her tormentor, trying in vain to see something she could use to appeal to the woman’s humanity. Since her mouth was unbound, she thought briefly about a final plea for clemency but quickly dismissed it; she already knew this woman had no mercy. Numb, Holly could only stare vacantly at the woman who had taken so much pleasure in torturing her and who now spoke to her as something lower than an animal.

SMACK!!!!

“Answer me, cunt!” Greta snapped, striking a fierce blow to Holly’s latex clad cheeks, the sound and her piercing screech ringing around the room, “Did it enjoy itself?”

“Yes, mistress,” Holly said after composing herself, not daring to wait for another vicious slap.

“Did its cunt get wet as it got fucked?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Did it cum over and over?” Greta persisted with the patronising tone.

“Yes, mistress”

“What does it say then? Or is it an ungrateful cunt?”

“Sorry, thank you, mistress.”

“Better,” Greta said, shaping as if about to stand up and leave before acting as if she had forgotten something and squatting back down again, “Hold on. Remind me, did I say it was allowed to cum?”

Holly’s eye shot open wide at this question as she tried desperately to remember exactly what had been said to her when she had been left. She remembered how roughly she had been put into position and that Greta had said something about her being a ‘filthy slut’ who was to be rewarded. Did that mean she had been allowed to cum? It wasn’t like she had had a choice; being fucked like that for so long would have forced any girl to an orgasm regardless of how they resisted. Surely Greta hadn’t expected her to not cum at all during the ordeal?

“I…,” Holly stammered as she flicked it over in her mind, desperate to find words that would spare her whatever the punishment was for disobeying, “I don’t kn… remember mistress, I…”

The sound of slapped latex again filled the room and again Holly screeched. Scrunching her face into a snarl, Greta bent closer to the shiny black rubber of Holly’s face to interrogate her further.

“No!” Greta screamed at Holly from inches away, “It is not ‘I’, ‘me’ or whatever its fucking name was before anymore! It is a worthless fucking cunt! So answer my question; did I say it could cum!?”

Holly knew she had no choice but to give in to Greta’s ridiculous demands. She had not been given explicit permission to cum, of that she was now sure, but she was also sure she had had no choice but to. She had forgotten that Greta was not interested in what was fair or even physically possible. Instead, Holly realised, she would invent arbitrary rules the girls would inevitably break just so they could be punished for the enjoyment of these sick bastards. Knowing now that irrespective of what she said, she would have to endure yet more terrible pain, Holly braced herself before answering.

“No, mistress,” she spluttered, trying to fight back tears.

“No?” Greta asked with faux surprise, “But it said it did cum. Many times. Did it forget it must ask permission before it can cum?”

“But…mistress it…”

“Did it forget that it doesn’t own its own body anymore?”

“No, mistress. But…”

“So if it knew it hadn’t been given permission to cum, why did it cum so much?”

“Mistress, it was imposs…”

“Is it that much of a whore it can’t control whether it cums or not?”

“Sorry, mistress, please it wasn’t…” Holly said, tears streaming down her black cheeks as she tried desperately to avoid the now inevitable punishment. She was cut off by yet another vicious blow to her face, flooding her black vision with stars. Standing up, Greta walked around the restrained girl, exploiting the dizziness she had created to confuse her victim. She inspected the rear end of her toy, looking at the pool of pussy juice that had dripped onto the floor beneath the bitch’s battered cunt. Looking over Holly’s body, Greta was pleased to see her tits slam against the wooden stock which held her head and arms, hoping it had made those big udders even more sore and sensitive. When Greta switched off the dildo responsible for Holly’s forbidden orgasms, the phallus eased slowly to a halt, finishing half embedded in her pretty pink cunt. Swinging one leg over Holly’s straight back, Greta sat down directly above the wooden block supporting her lower body. The position reinforced the idea that the girl was not human as she was now being a ridden like an animal. Bending forward slightly, Greta reached underneath Holly’s torso and eagerly grabbed the hanging globes. Squeezing the mounds of soft flesh, Greta pressed her own cunt into Holly’s back, feeling the shudder of pain running down her spine. She had known the bitch’s melons would be sensitive but the reaction enthralled her and she couldn’t wait to inflict yet more punishment on those fat tits.

“Right, cunt,” Greta said, her fingers still kneading the pliant flesh of Holly’s tits, “as it is a whore which cannot be trusted to control itself, it must not be rewarded with any more stimulation. What should be done about your disobedience, cunt?”

Greta emphasised the need for answer almost immediately by sinking her nails into each breast, doing everything but break the skin with her sharpened talons. Holly whined in pain but managed to squeeze out what she thought Greta wanted to hear.

“It should be punished, mistress,” she said through gritted teeth, not just at the humiliating nature of what she had to say but from the searing pain ripping through each bruised breast.

“Say ‘this cunt should be punished, mistress’,” Greta said, relaxing her grip slightly as Holly obeyed her commands.

“This cunt should be punished, mistress.”

“I agree, Tits,” Greta said, the name she had given the bitch early on just coming back to her, “but how should such selfish disobedience by such a worthless slutty whore be punished?”

“I…it should be…,” Holly struggled to get something out. How was she supposed to choose her own punishment? How could she choose which part of her body would suffer what pain next? Not only could she not imagine choosing to suffer from pain but she was certain that whatever she suggested would be dismissed and be a cause of further punishment. She couldn’t win and with her body already racked with pain, she was numbly reluctant to heap yet more misery on herself.

“Hurry, cunt,” Greta said, once again sinking her nails into those luscious mounds, making Holly whine once again, “or does it not want to please its masters?”

“Yes mistress,” Holly said quickly through the pain, knowing that was exactly what Greta wished to hear, “but it doesn’t know how to be punished.”

Holly thought this answer would appease Greta, for she had accepted that her role was to please her masters at all times. Yet Holly was still far too proud to have fully pleased her evil mistress. Perhaps if she had asked her punishment to be chosen for her, if she had said how worthless she was and how she was not worthy to choose her own punishment. Perhaps if she had begged to have her tits beaten with thin wooden rods, if she had begged her pussy to be stretched by the most gigantic dildo or clamoured to have all her nails ripped out one by one while she screamed at the top of her voice, she would have been given her wish and spared any surprises. But there was nothing Holly could do that would spare her any pain for Greta was having far too much fun even though her time with these wonderful girls was much shorter than she would have liked. It was the same with every new catch and unfortunately it always seemed too short. Once she had them working for her, she would get precious little time to play with them; when their clients had finished with them, they would likely need a rest period and even if they were available she would be busy with new toys. It was a shame but it was how it had to be if she was to keep this rare bastion of the depraved up to the high standards she expected. But as she squeezed the fabulous soft flesh of Holly’s suffering tits, she knew it would be particularly difficult to give this one up. There were many with breasts as big as this, indeed some even bigger, but there were few if any that were as symmetrical, round, bouncy or perfectly formed as this little English bitch. She had thought to keep this one as her own personal toy but she needed her for a very special client. Perhaps later she’d have the big titted slave for her own. But in the meantime she would squeeze as much sadistic pleasure out of these mounds as possible, mentally recording the screams and screeches to play back in a quiet moment.

“That is a shame, Tits,” Greta said with a broad smile as she roughly massaged the heavy globes in her hands, “if it had come up with its own punishment, its generous mistress would have carried it out, even if it was lenient. Even if it had only asked its mistress to tickle its toes that is all I would have done. But because it is a lazy useless cunt, I will have to decide on a punishment. It will not be pleasant, cunt. First though we need to do something to these fucking udders.”

With that Greta looked over at Hasan, who had finished examining Olivia’s mouth. Obeying silently, Hasan called up the stairs something the girls didn’t understand, a bark of Turkish words echoing harshly around the room followed shortly by a clamour of footsteps as Mehmet entered, dressed merely in a pair of boxer shorts, and carrying a small refrigerated box. Saying nothing to Hasan, he approached the sobbing girl and the gleeful dominatrix. Placing the box beside Holly’s body, his eyes fixed on the pendulous breasts that hung down, encased in Greta’s grasping hands. He was certainly a very lucky man to have had those massive tits in his hands just once and he was certain to have yet more chances to squeeze those big boobs, as well as to plunge himself deep into her various orifices.

Greta opened the small container Mehmet had bought. A plume of steam rose from it as the cold interior of the box met with the slightly warmer air of the basement. Mehmet stepped over and handed his employer a pair of thin latex gloves. On a whim, the German stretched them and flicked Holly’s tits a few times, just to draw a small wince from the girl she sat astride like a horse. After slipping them on, Greta reached into the misty contents and pulled out a large plastic syringe, frosted on the outside, with a long metal spike through which the cloudy liquid inside would be injected. Moving the syringe towards the base of Holly’s right tit, Greta was set to plunge it in when she paused. What was she thinking? How could she not panic the bitch by showing her the needle that would be pushed deep into her tit flesh? With a wry smile, Greta swung her leg over the girl’s back and walked to her front again. Bending into the same position she had slapped Holly’s cheeks a few minutes ago and still smiling, she slowly brought the terrifying syringe into Holly’s eye line. When Holly saw the syringe, dripping with a mysterious liquid, she screamed and shook violently from side to side, drawing laughter from all three tormentors as her wriggling did nothing to loosen her restraints. Not knowing what was in it made Holly more scared of the syringe than she had been of the implements she had been tortured with. Forgetting its previous futility, she began to plead.

“Please, mistress,” Holly cried desperately, tears streaming down her face, “please don’t hurt…use that thing…please mistress this…this cunt begs…”

A familiar sound filled the room as once again Greta slapped Holly hard. The blow was so powerful it almost knocked Holly unconscious, her eyes rolling briefly into the back of her head. Even Greta was surprised at the force of the strike, though unlike Holly she was glad to have caused such pain. In truth the slap was backed by real anger, for she had become tired of the pathetic mewling that was all the tied up cow seemed capable of. At least before when they had been gagged she hadn’t been forced to hear the self pitying crap these stuck up English girls constantly spewed.

“Shut the fuck up, cunt,” Greta said, her anger spilling into her voice, “it never tells me what to do. It only begs for what I tell it to. Now it better hold still whilst I stick this into its tit.”

With that Greta moved the syringe and, constantly looking into her captives eyes, reached round the stocks holding Holly in place to slowly slide the needle into the meat of Holly’s right tit, knowing the thick syringe would cause discomfort if not pain. Once buried to the hilt, she plunged the liquid deep into her tit flesh. Once emptied, Greta removed the needle and handed it to Mehmet, her eyes never leaving those beautiful brown saucers encased in shining black. Replacing the empty needle with a full one, Greta repeated the process with Holly’s other breast. Greta jiggled her toys once more, nothing to do with what she had just done, but because she loved how those bouncing boobs felt and how the shame each caress, pinch or squeeze of her massive tits tormented the slave. Reluctantly she gave each globe a hard squeeze before standing, her cunt now virtually level with Holly’s face, its wetness allowing the teen to see just how much Greta had enjoyed hurting her.

“Have Tits fed, watered and then set up her punishment,” Greta said as she walked back across the room, “I’ll be back to play with it later.”

Greta strode back to the table where Olivia was still spread out. The blood stained bandages had been removed from the girl’s pretty little mouth and a small plastic ring inserted to hold it open to prevent her from speaking and making her tongue take longer to heal. It had also made feeding her easier, Hasan currently putting the apparatus he had used back into the gloom. Olivia’s skin glistened with the water he had used to wash her, her dripping blonde hair slicked back against her head and down onto the table. Further down, Greta saw the stubble around her pubes had been shaved smooth by Hasan’s skilful hand. Olivia had been neglected as Greta dealt with her big titted friend but that was about to change as she picked up a small bottle Hasan had left on the table.

“All nice and clean, baby,” Greta whispered as she stroked the bound girl’s stretched stomach, “now let’s get that cunt smelling beautiful and fresh.”

With that, Greta pumped the bottle to spray a fine mist on the freshly shaved lips of Olivia’s splayed pussy. It took a few seconds but, as Greta repositioned by the girl’s head, the reaction was worth it. The first sign of the spray’s effect was Olivia going almost bug eyed in a combination of surprise and pain. Then came the squeal. Even with her cut tongue, Olivia’s piercing screech filled the room and she pulled violently on the straps securing her to the workbench. Her pelvis jerked up and down and her torso writhed in agony as the acidic spray excruciatingly stung her newly shaved privates. Mehmet and Greta enjoyed the sight as she squirmed futilely against her bonds, her struggles failing to assuage to agonising pain tearing across her sensitive cunt. Unable to see what the spray had done, Olivia felt sure her skin was being burned away, such was the pain’s intensity, vivid images of dissolving flesh flicking through her mind. Greta knew this was not so; she would never do permanent physical damage to one of her toys. Why would she want to ruin such a beautiful cunt? Instead the only evidence for Olivia’s writhing anguish was a slight reddening of her groin, the devilishly painful spray leaving no other mark, her desperate squealing and struggling not withstanding. Greta laughed aloud at her desperate movements, her beautiful breasts bouncing around as she moved as best she could. With her legs and arms immobilised and her head strapped in, all Olivia could do was shake her torso from side to side and push her pelvis up before bringing her firm little arse slamming back onto the hard wood. It all magically combined with the girl’s beautiful features contorted into a grimace of sheer agony.

“What are you screaming for?” Greta asked whilst still laughing, her voice dripping with faux incredulity, “I spray a little fragrance on your pretty little pussy and you act as if I’d tortured you. What an ungrateful little bitch whore you are!”

Of course both Greta and Hasan knew exactly why she was screaming. It was true Greta had sprayed Olivia’s vulva with fragrance, making it nice and fresh after its ordeal over the previous few days. Yet the burning pain Olivia felt went far beyond anything a man spraying an after shave on a cut might experience. For Greta had mixed an irritant into the fragrance. It did not dissolve skin like a strong acid but did cause significant pain even to fresh unbroken skin. But for Olivia’s freshly shaved, abused and naturally sensitive sex, it was agonising. Her thirst for violence not sated, Greta stroked the sensitive skin with her gloved hands, knowing this would only increase Olivia’s pain. Sure enough, her delicious screams increased a few decibels, much to Greta’s delight. With smiling anticipation, Greta again picked up the bottle and, with her gloved hand positioned directly above Olivia’s already burning crotch, carefully sprayed just her gloved fingers with the liquid. The glove now dripping, Greta now rubbed it down Olivia’s midriff, coating yet more of her skin in the acidic fragrance, spreading the liquid all over her stomach and sides. Although this skin was largely untouched, the irritant was so strong it still stung, spreading the pain up from her pubic region to her torso, following the trail of the latex glove snaking even higher. With both hands now on the girl’s body, Greta rubbed her torturous fingers up the girl’s succulent breasts, pushing hard against the mound of flesh, squashing them against her ribs and bringing her slippery digits up over Olivia’s tits. Massaging the spray onto the supple globes, she took particular care to rub the torturous nectar into Olivia’s proud nipples.

As the intense pain in her crotch tailed off and the less stinging pain in her breasts took hold, Olivia’s violent struggles lessened, knowing it would be impossible to avoid the woman who now gripped her breasts. The lack of severe pain was a relief to Olivia for it meant that not too much damage had been done to her precious sex. But as Greta once more moved her hands down Olivia’s lithe back into the newly shaved area, the rush of pain returned with a vengeance. Another scream filled the air as Olivia’s frantic squirming began again. But the cloudy white hands of her tormentor had a terrible surprise in store. With her fingers still covered in liquid, Greta slid her middle finger down between the lips of Olivia’s delicate slit. Continuing her descent, the German listened to the ear piercing screeching of the captive girl, smiling as she slid the tip of her middle finger into the hot passage of Olivia’s cunt. Although Olivia scarcely believed it, the pain intensified, greater than before. It was like a fire had shot up her as Greta slid her long bony finger further into her hole. Her thrashing was now so intense that the strong bonds binding her to the table began to creak and the leather rubbed painfully against her wrists and ankles. Greta didn’t care. Instead she moved more of her hand down to Olivia’s two holes, her index finger joining her middle finger inside Olivia’s pussy, pushing as far into it as she could until it was buried up to the knuckle while her ring finger slipped down, along Olivia’s perineum until it pressed against the tight and as yet unpenetrated bud of the girl’s arsehole. With her thumb moving up to rub the liquid straight onto Olivia’s protruding clitoris, Greta’s hand was stretched like a pianist’s when she pushed into the bound teen’s virgin arsehole.

“AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!”

Olivia’s screech was almost otherworldly, it was so intensely loud and piercing. Greta looked up to check the girl hadn’t passed out; in all her years she had never heard a scream like it. Perhaps it was the ring gag, her newly lengthened tongue, a low pain threshold or just a love of screaming but Greta could scarcely believe what she was hearing. It was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. Indeed when she heard gorgeous babes like Olivia scream in sheer agony like that, she simply couldn’t understand why so few people did what she did. Greta was stretching every sinew in her arm just to keep all her digits delivering the exquisite pain to this most sensitive part of Olivia’s body. By now the table was rocking with the force of Olivia’s struggles and Greta bent over to keep her fingers plunged as far into the schoolgirl as possible. With two fingers up her pussy and one in her arse, Olivia looked like a human puppet and with her violent wriggling it was as if her puppet master were in the throes of some violent epileptic fit. Olivia’s recently cleaned body cascaded with sweat because of her exertions but the girl who was one of the fittest and best athletes at her school still did her utmost to throw her torturer off and bring some blessed relief. Greta was amazed at the strength of the little girl, never imagining such a small frame could support such an effort and such a determined little bitch. Indeed she would even go so far as to say she was impressed by the little cunt’s will for she had expected these three rich English girls to immediately rollover and obey but although she had broken the slutty one’s will to resist almost straight away and the sobbing cunt with the big tits wasn’t far behind, this spunky blonde fucker was more of a competitor. It didn’t disappoint Greta though. Not in the slightest. It just meant breaking the bitch would be even more fun. And if it didn’t happen by the time her clients came they would get an even better deal, playing not just with a docile toy but one that resisted their heinous punishments.

“Plenty of fight in this one,” Greta said to Hasan, the strain of her own effort showing in her face.

“We must change that,” he chuckled, relishing in what that would mean for both him and Olivia.

“Lovely tight ass for us to play with as well,” Greta continued, “You hear that, cunt? That pretty little ass of yours is going to be ripped apart real soon.”

The thought of Olivia’s pretty little virgin bud being stretched painfully open gave Greta an idea. Reluctantly pulling out her ring finger from its cosy little home with a small pop, Greta lined it up with Olivia’s already stretched vagina and slowly worked it inside. The slippery liquid coating her fingers helped ease the new intruder inside the moist snatch of the still wriggling girl who barely noticed the fresh pain her overstretched pussy gave her over the searing pain of the fragrant irritant. Pushing hard as she met plenty of resistance, Greta buried a third finger up to the knuckle inside the tight passage. Not wasting any time she brought up the little finger of her right hand and placed it against the entrance. Pushing out with her three fingers she created a gap just big enough to slip in the tip of this last digit but she knew that was all the cunt’s cunt could take right now. She had been hoping the girl would be just loose enough that Greta, causing plenty of pain of course, could slip her fist inside and fuck the bitch with it. She knew how much pain she could cause with it as she rammed her knuckles into a woman’s cervix. As much fun as it would be stretching this cunt until she could do just that, it would tear her apart and ruin her for future clients. There would be plenty of time for that for she had no intention of letting her toys go anywhere any time soon. Indeed Greta envisioned a time when both girls would be bent over with both her arms buried in their young cunts. In the meantime Greta would have to be content with using the four fingers already inside Olivia to fuck her. Moving just slightly in and out, Greta began to oscillate inside the girl’s moist cunt.

Far from enjoying this new sensation Olivia squirmed as vigorously as before, desperate to escape the woman’s clutches. Unlike the rest of her body where the pain had dissipated as the liquid had evaporated, her warm moist holes retained the moisture and the pain still stung in these most sensitive areas. Added to this was the incredibly painful stretching of her vagina as the fingers pulled it apart so much Olivia thought she would tear in two. She had put many things in her vagina over the last few years: cocks, fingers, sex toys and even the odd vegetable. But Mehmet’s giant cock had been the biggest thing she’d had and that was merely a day or so ago. Now she was feeling even more stretched and the pain was excruciating. Mercifully for Olivia, Greta decided she had stretched the girl’s cunny enough for now; the couple she was saving Olivia for would love a nice tight hole to play with. As she removed her hand, she gave the girl’s nether regions one last smear of liquid to cause her suffering captive more pain before, after firmly slapping Olivia’s cunt, standing up.

“My my, Blondie,” Greta marvelled with genuine surprise as she walked round to the still thrashing girl, “you are a feisty one. But don’t you worry, baby, I’ll soon knock that out of you. By the time I’m done, you’ll be as obedient as that proud slutty whore upstairs and that pathetic cow over there. You’ll be a good little sex slave who only thinks about pleasing me. But unfortunately I now have to deal with Tits over there. No need to panic though girl, I’ll be back.” With that, Greta moved back to where Mehmet and Holly were waiting.

—————————————————————-

Gazing at herself, Lucy was utterly transfixed. She could scarcely recognise herself. Dripping with water, her long thin body was covered with evidence of the difficult time she’d had. Running her eyes down her body, she brooded over each individual mark. Her brown nipples were swollen and reddened atop her small pert breasts. The tanned skin of her toned stomach was covered in reddened patches where they had been rubbed against something hard. Between her legs, her pussy was also slightly red. As she turned, Lucy could see her rear and thighs crisscrossed with red lines and welts from being whipped with something over and over. Lucy stared at her reflection for a long time. She could scarcely believe what had been done to her by those three maniacs in the basement or what they had made her do to her friends. But all that seemed far in the past as she stood before the mirror freshly washed, her whole body smelling beautifully of jasmine. And her room wasn’t luxurious but it was no dungeon. There was a single bed in one corner, a toilet and sink in another and along one wall the mirror she was looking into now. The lighting was soft, the décor minimal but not unpleasant, the smell from candles burning on the bedside table more than tolerable. Looking back into the mirror, Lucy saw what had been done with her hair and face. Dark black lines framed her hazel eyes, making them look even more sultry than usual. Her hair was bound into a tight but still dripping ponytail. Her skin was kissed with a light foundation, her nigh on flawless skin needing very little assistance. Lucy knew she always looked good but the work the Asian woman had done just a few minutes ago was very impressive. Just as she thought this the door opened.

Wearing the same long black cheongsam when she had taken Lucy out of that first dingy room, the woman who had attended her after her bath entered, looking a radiant picture of elegance and class. Once again her face showed no emotion as she walked in, her swift entry without knocking tacitly indicating that Lucy no longer had any privacy. In her hand she carried a long blue garment, the silk glistening in the soft light. She walked swiftly over to Lucy, seeming to glide over the floor effortlessly. Keeping her eyes fixed on Lucy’s, she stopped inches away before handing the garment over. Lucy took the soft material eagerly. It had been days since she had been covered and, although proud of her body, she longed to recover just a modicum of modesty.

“It is not becoming of a high class whore to be on display all the time,” the woman said as Lucy eagerly slipped into the sky blue robe, “Instead she must allude to her treasures, showing just enough flesh to entice and no more.”

When Lucy had done up the robe, the woman adjusted it. The slightly darker lapels were positioned over her chest to just conceal her pert breasts. The sides of the robe were pulled over to expose Lucy’s right leg up to the top of the thigh. The shoulders were pulled away so the garment just hung on the girl’s athletic body who currently resembled a human mannequin. Looking into the mirror, Lucy met her dresser’s gaze but got nothing from the beautiful but cold face staring back. She had barely even noticed she had been called a whore, the derogatory word a small thing compared to what she had already experienced.

“Come,” the woman said as she turned abruptly away, “there is much still to show you.”

“Excuse me,” Lucy called after the woman, her voice hoarse having not spoken for many hours, “what is your name?”

With an irritated intake of breath, the woman stopped in her tracks and composed herself to answer. Turning around, she looked at Lucy with such menace that a shiver rippled down her spine. With frightening serenity, the woman walked back, exuding total. She may have been only an inch taller but she towered over the cowering Lucy who stooped out of fear. Her answer was precise.

“My name,” her slightly accented voice speaking slowly and methodically, “is unimportant. As is yours. What you were called before you came here, what you were, is no longer relevant. All that matters now is this. Whatever you did before you must forget. This is your life now. You will be taught to use your body to please your masters and that is all you are to care about. If you do it well, you will be comfortable; if not, you will be severely punished. Now follow me, there is work to do.”

Feeling like a told off child, Lucy paused then slinked with bowed shoulders after the woman, out the door and down the corridor.
—————————————————————————-

As Olivia still mewled, writhed and thrashed around on the table, Greta calmly walked over to Mehmet who was just finishing with Holly. Bound in the same position, the girl had certainly heard Olivia’s torture and knew that hers was coming so Greta approached slowly to prolong the agony of suspense. Simply hurting the girls physically was insufficient, both for her business and her sadistic nature. Greta needed to torture every facet of their being until they had nothing left of their old selves. To watch a human go from being proud and defiant to an obedient and compliant husk was her greatest pleasure, and there was something about pretty young girls that made it all the sweeter. Whilst she had seen men the same, Greta enjoyed nothing more than torturing a woman until they thought of nothing else but how to please her. Then Greta could enjoy the results.

As she approached Holly, she noted that despite what she had said to Olivia, the girl was actually far from fully trained. Right now she might respond, when prompted, as Greta expected her but it was only to escape further punishment. The bitch did not fully understand her situation or realise that she would continue to be painfully tortured while she retained any sense of self; in Greta’s experience such a process would take many long highly enjoyable months. Looking at the latex clad body, Greta couldn’t help but smile at how pathetic and helpless she looked. Having an arrogant big titted bitch like this so completely at her mercy pleased Greta greatly. To see girls like her walking around as if they owned the place made Greta burn with rage; parading down the street with their ridiculous melons on show, on the covers of magazines and newspapers and all over the internet squeezing them together to form massive cleavages. Every time she got her hands on a decent sized pair, even a pair like Olivia’s, Greta felt she was torturing all of them. And it felt so good. With a look, she sent Mehmet into the darkness before bending once again in front of the bound girl’s face.

“Now it is fed and watered, is it ready for its punishment?” Greta said cheerfully.

“Yes, mistress,” Holly said without delay, her throat no longer as dry and thus her voice less hoarse.

“Good. Does it remember why it is being punished?”

“For cumming, mistress.”

“Why is it being punished for cumming?”

“Because…it was told not.”

“’This cunt was told not to cum’,” Greta said impatiently, “say it!”

“This cunt was told not to cum.”

“It must learn how to speak properly or it will be punished again and again,” Greta said, looking up to see Mehmet returning from the darkness, “Now, we’ll begin.”

With that she nodded at Mehmet who returned with various apparatus in his arms. Holly couldn’t see what was intended but it didn’t matter; it wasn’t as if he wanted her consent before torturing her. When Mehmet put whatever it was on the floor, Holly heard a clunk, the suspense of waiting to see how she would be hurt next now becoming the norm with the added fear of what had been injected into her breasts nagging her. Although she tried not to think or rationalise that it was some kind of antibiotic to stave off infection or a hormone to stop her falling pregnant, she couldn’t stop feeling that something awful would happen at any moment. It may have been her imagination but her breasts felt … tingly. But irrespective she had to focus for she knew that agony would be next.

Greta reached around the stocks holding Holly tightly in place and grabbed one of her hanging breasts, squeezing the sensitive mound of flesh with characteristic roughness but now almost probing as if to discover something hidden within. Seemingly satisfied, Greta gave the tit a habitual punishing slap before repeating the process on her other tortured breast, looking up abstractly to concentrate on what she was doing, like a doctor during an examination. The long bony fingers dug into Holly’s breast flesh hard as if checking the ripeness of a melon in a greengrocer’s. Giving this breast a harder slap, Greta moved her gloved hands to cup Holly’s sweet innocent face, the sting of the spray she had used on Olivia having dissipated over time.

“They’re almost ready,” Greta said, knowing her words would only puzzle the girl more, “Mehmet.”

Suddenly Holly felt a sharp surge of pain from her pussy. With Greta still firmly cupping her face, she could only muster a muffled wail which didn’t lessen the pain. As she teared up, another painful pang shot into her body. Not knowing what caused it terrified Holly and not being able to see what was being done to her most sensitive feminine area only increased her fear. With her torso strapped onto the wooden block, she couldn’t escape Mehmet’s actions and her attempts to wriggle away were futile. All she could do was look into the cold unforgiving eyes of her sadistic captor.

Mehmet looked at the girl’s pussy that just a few hours ago he had filled with cum. Just remembering her riding his cock, those big tits almost smothering him, made him almost feel her cunt’s tight grip around his shaft. It did not look so tight now. She had already taken him twice up her virgin cunt, no mean feat for a cock his size. But hours of the machine battering her pussy had splayed open the delicate flower of her sex. Such was the beauty of young flesh, Mehmet knew the girl’s supple labia would soon close with time. But now was not that time. He had attached two large crocodile clips whose teeth brutally bit into the flesh of her sensitive lips. Each clip had a thin rubber coated wire running to two metal boxes the size of a car battery. If Holly could see it, she would have known what was coming but she could only feel the pain of the biting teeth. With her outer lips now pulled apart, Mehmet ran his finger along her inner pussy, feeling her flinch at his touch. His middle finger scooted up the slit until it brushed the nub of her clit. With a tenderness belying his intentions, he gently massaged it, knowing that despite herself her body would react.

The pain from Holly’s crotch began to lessen for the clips attached to her pussy lips had soon reduced the blood supply to her sensitive cunt which is why all she felt now was a dull ache. That was until she felt the finger running along her sex from the bottom to the top and the hood housing her clitoris. The finger was quite sensual, as if it bore no relation to the man who had abused, raped and tortured her. In contrast to her past treatment, the light touch was almost pleasurable and if her body were not racked with pain, she would certainly have enjoyed Mehmet’s gentle massage of her sensitive clit. As the rubbing continued, Holly closed her eyes and tried to enjoy it, knowing these brief moments of pleasure were few and far between. It was a feeling she had thought no longer existed for her, the warming tingle spreading from her crotch and eventually filling her entire body. She had felt it many times by her own hand when lying in bed and for just a moment, even with all the suffering she had endured, she could picture herself back there. Yet even in this chamber of horrors, Holly could not have imagined how swiftly this pleasure would turn to pain. In a heartbeat the soothing glow at her crotch turned into a cauldron of white hot searing agony, the hands stopped cupping her face, her eyes opened wide and her screams echoed from the stone walls.

Mehmet smirked as the vicious teeth of a tiny crocodile clip bit into the girl’s engorged throbbing clit. He had massaged it until it stood proud at the top of her sex, peeking out from beneath its hood with its usual dumb expectancy. He had aroused many women in his time, seeing this very sight often, but it was not until recently that he had used his skill to hurt those he pleasured. Yet he certainly liked it, the scream of the bitch music to his ears. He had not always been this way. Growing up, he had always tried to respect women although of course his good looks had kept him constantly in demand. It was only on coming to Munich, scraping by at that godforsaken bar with drunken bitches crawling all over him that his terse attitude toward them as well as his ability to attract them had first caught the eye of this strange woman. He recalled his first experience at this castle, watching a young woman’s beautiful face contorted not in pleasure but in agony. It was a grotesque, stomach churning sight. Yet he could not take his eyes away. He hadn’t slept for days after, tossing and turning as the images ran riot through his mind. He had considered going to the authorities to tell them about the terrible things he had seen but in reality he knew things would never be the same. He not only could not forget the girl’s beautiful pain filled eyes but wanted to see them repeated. In the tortured scream of this new bitch, he felt he had found his true calling in life.

Holly found no such epiphany but only a screech of anguish as her clitoris was bitten viciously by the clip’s biting metal. This new torture surpassed the last, each new pain seemingly designed to eclipse what had gone before. She struggled against this new assault but even as she thrashed around, she knew there was no escape. Despite her efforts, the clips biting her flesh were immovable, their grip seeming to tighten with each passing moment. Holly’s eyes looked into Greta’s, no longer pleading for a mercy she knew would not be given. The German stared back with little emotion save a flicker of amusement at her captive’s pain. It was still alien to Holly how somebody could enjoy another’s pain especially an innocent teenager’s who had done nothing to them and whose whole life was ahead of her. Something in the woman’s life must have twisted her, for she could not believe anybody could be so cruel without deep motive. Then, through the pain, Holly felt another touch at her rear, one now painfully familiar. The pressure at the tight bud of her anus was no clip but warm and throbbing, the unmistakable touch of Mehmet’s cock bearing down to sodomise her. She tightened the muscles in her arsehole instinctively, before sense returned. She could not stop her chute being penetrated and trying to do so would result in further torture. Reluctantly and with heavy heart, relaxing as much as she could, Holly submitted to the inevitable.

Mehmet didn’t need a second invitation as he pushed his cock steadily inside her tight arse chute. That Hasan had already sodomised the bitch didn’t matter to Mehmet. This second hole was as tight as when he had fucked her virgin cunt. As he inched forward, the walls of her hole gripped his dick tightly, increasing its warm embrace. He had already used the girl’s flowing juices to liberally lubricate his cock so he had no problem sliding even further inside, his hands grabbing her wide hips as he pulled himself deep into her until he was pressed right up against her hot latex-clad buttocks. With his cock fully inside, he paused, his hands roaming all over her midriff, tantalisingly close to her hanging breasts. He looked at Greta to signal he was right up her and the next stage could begin.

Greta’s eyes never left those of the bound girl, only seeing Mehmet’s signal in her peripheral vision. Her long fingers reached behind Holly and grasped the battery, pulling it along the ground to better access to its controls. Positioning it just behind the wooden stock, Greta was ready to deliver more pain to the poor girl. But first she had some choice words.

“Is the cunt’s ass tight, Mehmet?” Greta asked, looking directly at Holly but seemingly ignoring her.

“Like a glove,” Mehmet replied, a broad smile across his face, “but could be tighter.”

“Does it wish to please its master?” Greta asked Holly now, the girl taking a moment to realise she was the intended target.

“Yes, mistress,” came the reply.

“Then we must make sure its ass fits even better,” Greta said, flicking a switch on the battery.

Holly’s scream would have woken all Munich were the room not soundproofed. Her entire body went stiff as a fierce current ran through each clip, the effect not of electrocution but sheer pain. It felt like her cunt was on fire . Each clip carried its own current which seared through the thin but sensitive flesh it bit into. And it had the desired effect, causing Holly to tense every muscle in her body, the slick walls of her arse chute closing fiercely around Mehmet’s shaft as it lay inside her, the pressure exerted almost painful. He chuckled as he tried in vain to piston in and out. Then he leaned over, his dick still embedded deep within her, until he lay almost flat on her back. It didn’t take a genius to guess where his hands were going. Like moths to a flame, his large hands grasped the girl’s massive tits, gripping them as tightly as her arse gripped his prick. If Holly could have screamed further she would have but all her screaming was taken up with the pain from the battery which showed no sign of lessening. She could scarcely believe that, despite no torturing attention, her breasts felt even more sensitive. With Mehmet’s vice-like grasp gleefully squeezing her tits, his cock plunged deep into her arse and her cunt painfully electrocuted, Holly was in a world of pain. And those around her enjoyed it greatly.

“How is its ass now?” Greta asked as if she were servicing a car, not torturing a human being.

“It grips so tight I cannot fuck,” Mehmet said, his smile suggesting he was not unhappy about it.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that would we, Tits?” Greta asked, knowing she would get no reply, “it will have to loosen that ass so it can be buggered properly.”

With that, Greta reduced the battery current. Holly’s relief was small but tangible, the fiery pain from her crotch decreasing enough to loosen her arse’s tight grip on Mehmet’s shaft. Finally able to move, he immediately did so, his hands digging into her tit flesh with renewed vigour, twisting each globe violently in his palms as he pulled his cock out of her arse till only the glans remained inside. Holly realised too late what was about to happen, not that she could have stopped it. Mehmet thrust forward with all his power, shaking the wooden restraints as his thrusts slammed into her. Once begun, his toned arse became a blur, slamming back and forth against the firm buttocks of the girl beneath him. Knowing nothing would stop him and with her own desire for pain far from sated, she increased the current again, raptly listening with closed eyes to the inevitable scream, a bellowing almost hoarse effort this time as Holly again unintelligibly screeched to the heavens, her body stiff with pain. The current burned through the clips gripping her pussy and Holly, unable to see, had no idea of the damage. For all she knew, her lips and clit were being literally burnt away. Gripped by panic and pain, all she could do was scream, scream as loudly as her lungs would allow.

Greta allowed herself one quick look at Mehmet as he pounded the girl. He was obviously far from finished which allowed Greta more time to enjoy the exquisite sounds of her toy as she screamed. But it could not continue. The girl had suffered greatly and would continue to do so at her hand, but she had to have a period, however short, when she was not tortured further. There was no fun making a girl insane, at least not too quickly. But until Mehmet had spilled his seed inside her, she would not stop torturing the helpless girl for she could never tire of hearing that scream. She tilted her head around the stocks to look at Mehmet’s hands, knowing she would be pleased with the results. They did not disappoint. The punishment he was inflicting on Holly’s melons was what the bitch deserved, the German smiling broadly at the rough treatment of those massive tits. It was a glorious sight, one Greta hoped to see again and again over the time the cunt was still useable.

Mehmet’s roared in pleasure at the tight grip of Holly’s arse around his throbbing cock. He had not yet sodomised the girls and though it wasn’t his only motivation, the unique grip of this tightest of holes was something to be savoured whenever the opportunity presented. Having her resist him only made it more pleasurable, taking her against his will swelling his cock to a size he had never thought possible. Close to release, he yet did not slow his pace to prolong his pleasure but instead continued to plough into Holly’s battered arse in a complete frenzy. Giving the screaming bitch no respite, he again twisted and pulled her heaving breasts in one final roar of pleasure, plunging deep into her, tugging her hanging tits as he spasmed in climax. His cum shot deep into her bowels, his body twitching while hers was still stiff with pain. As the wave of pleasure receded, he opened his eyes and looked at Greta, both of them smiling. Reluctantly Greta switched off the battery, ending most of the pain burning Holly’s crotch. Equally reluctant, Mehmet released his iron grip on her tits and slid his softening cock from her slick arse chute. It was no easy task for him to remove the clips biting into her flesh but he did so, first the larger ones clipping her lips and then, with just a little flick of her clit, the last. His cock still dripping with cum, Mehmet stood, giving Holly’s arse a last slap before returning into the shadows with the apparatus.

“Its punishment is complete,” Greta said as she stroked the side of Holly’s cheek as a loving owner to a pet, “will it ever disobey its mistress again?”

“No, mistress,” Holly said, fighting back tears of shame but equally relieved it was over.

“Good,” Greta replied, before motioning Mehmet to give her something. Holly had obviously not suffered enough at her hands the last few hours since the German wished to inflict one more punishment. Mehmet gave it to her but, her head secured, Holly could not tell what it was. She was soon enlightened. Greta held up two familiar items, a thin needle and a golden ring, similar to those Holly had seen when her nipples had been pierced.

“Does it remember what these are for?” Greta asked, ignoring Holly’s wide eyed surprise and shaking head, “from when it had its big tits pierced?”

“Yes, mistress,” Holly just about managed to get out, more tears welling in her round brown eyes.

“Well since it has such big udders,” Greta continued, “it should look more like the cow that it is. Its mistress has decided to put a ring through its nose so it can be dragged around. Does that sound like a good idea, cunt?”

Holly knew she had no choice but to agree and accept this latest punishment but she mentally paused, still incredulous at being talked to like this by somebody who didn’t know her, had no cause to hate her and no cause to torture her. That she seemed largely motivated by Holly’s big boobs was even more bizarre. She had never asked for them, indeed quite the opposite. She never flaunted her assets, frequently covering them and wearing baggy clothes to conceal her magnificent pair. It pissed off all the younger boys in her school when they peered through the sixth form common room windows, desperate to glimpse her tits, to be rewarded with nothing but a tantalising bulge. Indeed Olivia, with tits that looked so good on her petite body, showed hers off far more frequently, giving boys plenty of cleavage to feast their eyes on. From the story of the girl who made the throwaway comment, Holly understood that Greta might be jealous of girls with bigger tits but that was no reason to torture her like this. But the consequences would be severe if Holly did not praise her new mistress and so she adopted her obedient slave persona and complied.

“A very good idea, mistress,” Holly said, visibly surprising Greta by responding with more than just her standard ‘yes, mistress’.

“Good. Now hold still or this will look very messy and its mistress won’t be pleased. And remember, all it must think about now is pleasing its masters.”

With that Greta pressed the needle against Holly’s septum while her other hand gripped Holly’s chin hard, obviously prepared for her to struggle against the pain. The girl closed her eyes as if that would somehow lessen the coming pain. She soon felt the needle’s cold point press against the sensitive area and she responded with a wince and slightly gritted teeth. As the needle pushed through the skin, Holly felt more pain but resolved not to show it, determined to give this woman as little pleasure as possible. Soon she felt the needle push all the way through and though her nose was very painful, it was less than she had felt before, her previous tortures hardening her to things which previously would have been pure agony. The needle was removed and quickly replaced by the ring. It was surprisingly heavy and Holly was afraid it would tear her septum. But Greta knew what it could take; she would never make such a basic error. She looked at her handiwork. Holly looked fantastic: her black latex face with the nose ring made her look the perfect fuck toy. And that was before her tits and cunt were displayed. Pleased, Greta slapped her face hard and leaned in slightly.

“There we go,” she whispered, “its starting to look like a perfect little slave cunt. What does it say?”

“Thank you, mistress,” Holly said, the pain in her nose now having lessened.

“Good cunt. Now its time to put Blondie over there to some actual use. Soon you’ll both know your place is to please your masters. Mehmet, string it up by its tits. Oh, I want it blindfolded and gagged as well. I don’t want to hear its pathetic noises while we play with the other one.”

Greta stood, her legs stiff and painful from crouching for so long in front of Holly but she had not shown even a flicker of discomfort. She had to appear totally powerful so these girls knew she was in charge. Her whole persona had to be carefully thought out and executed when she was down here. Of course she was often tempted to get carried away, often made things up on the spot and frequently suffered discomfort, usually from prolonged periods in positions or time spent using the same muscles when whipping or caning a girl. But she never let it show. To Holly and Olivia, she seemed always in control, all powerful and merciless and that was exactly how she wanted it.

As Greta went to Olivia, Mehmet started securing Holly in the desired position. He first decided to gag and blindfold her so she wouldn’t distract Greta from what she was doing to Olivia. Walking to a chest in the cellar shadows, he opened it to reveal a feast of bondage apparatus heaped together like a den of snakes, all black leather and silver buckles, blindfolds, gags and cuffs, corsets, hoods and gloves. Mehmet rummaged briefly, found what he wanted and returned to Holly with a ball gag like the one used when she was first brought into the dungeon, and a leather blindfold with a buckle to tie tightly around her head. Moving behind Holly, he straddled her back and leant over the stocks.

“Open,” he commanded and Holly quickly obeyed. She had heard Greta order her ‘strung up by her tits’ but though terrified by how painful it would be, she could not stop it and obediently opened her mouth to let him slide the rigid plastic ball in. Tugging her head hard back against the wooden board, he fixed the gag by tightening the buckle below her ponytail, repeating the process with the leather blindfold. Finished, Mehmet looked at the girl’s face. Bending in front of her as Greta had done, he looked at the almost completely masked face of the thing in front of him. It was less of a sight without those big brown helpless eyes but with her face covered in black rubber and leather, he enjoyed seeing the girl dressed as the archetypal gimp. He had little time to admire her, though, for he knew Greta would be displeased if he didn’t work fast so he stood up and continued.
Although he knew she wouldn’t resist even if free, he didn’t want to take chances, deciding to secure her partly in her new bondage before removing the current one. Going to a control box in the corner of the room, Mehmet pushed a few buttons, causing a motor to whir somewhere and a bar suspended by two chains to slowly inch from the ceiling until it was level with his chest, just above the stocked Holly. Bending down, he picked up some white rope as thick as his thumb and, with a skill that some sail-ship navy would have appreciated, tied the rope around the bar, leaving a long trailing section which he brought over to Holly. With a brusque disregard, he sat on her back, pushing her hard onto the wooden block supporting her lower body. Working with customary speed, Mehmet passed the rope under Holly’s torso, just below her breasts and pulled it tight, lifting her up towards him. Still pulling the rope taut, Mehmet made two nooses with plenty of length at the end and brought the rope back round and under Holly again. Lining up the nooses with each of Holly’s giant breasts and wrapping the free length of the rope round his arm to keep the rope tensioned, he used his free hand to work her left tit into the noose, sliding it down to the base of her fleshy mound till it just gripped her breast. He then repeated the process on her other tit, the rope only lightly constricting each breast. That would soon change though. With the rope still wrapped around his arm, he brought both hands down and slowly tightened the noose at the base of her left breast, leaning slightly to the side and watching as the rope tightened around her tit. At first there was no noticeable change but as the rope tightened and cut off the blood flow, her breast began to swell and change colour. Continuing to tighten the noose, Mehmet watched with brooding delight as Holly’s massive tit turned from the pale tan of her natural complexion to an angry red as the blood pooled in her distended breast. Repeating the process with her right tit, he listened with glee to the gagged girl’s muffled whimpers as the pain of her tightly constricted breasts began to bite. Although her bulbous swollen tits could have been bound tighter, Mehmet knew she would be in some pain. As she was supposed to be.

Having secured her to the bar she would soon be suspended from, Mehmet now released her from her previous bondage, undoing the tight leather strap securing her to the wooden block. Although Holly felt her lower body no longer bound, she knew the futility of struggle and remained motionless as Mehmet walked round the stocks holding her neck and wrists. Flipping a few catches holding the two halves of wood in place, he lifted the top away, freeing Holly’s neck and arms. Fairly sure she wouldn’t try anything, he disappeared briefly and returned with some large zip ties, tying Holly’s wrists tightly behind her back with characteristic roughness, and using the second zip to tie her elbows together, causing her back to bend slightly and thrusting out her swollen tits. Finally he removed the wooden block holding up her lower body, causing her crotch to collapse to the floor and almost throttling her on the stocks. Everything secure, Mehmet moved to the control panel and began winching up the bar.

Mehmet could not see Holly’s face as the latex covered it but he knew it would be contorting in pain as the winch slowly pulled the bar into the air. The first thing she felt was the slight tug as the rope went taut above her and tightened around her torso, slowly but inexorably pulling her up. Worried by the unknown that lay in store for her, Holly fought to stay in her current position. It was no use and soon her neck was pulled from the stock’s head-groove. With her hands bound behind her, Holly could not stop rising and though she wriggled from side to side, the rope around her body tightened, heaving her up toward the ceiling. Her toes still touched the ground but each time she was pulled up her binding tightened, both around her torso and the base of her breasts. Mehmet winched the bar up until her dainty latex clad toes just left the ground and stopped to inspect the suspended girl. Hanging from the ceiling like a piece of meat, her slender toned legs wriggled frantically, much to his amusement. But what was really eye-catching were Holly’s bulging melons. Although her entire weight wasn’t supported by her bound globes, the ropes exerted plenty of pressure, tightening them into an angry red bulge of blood trapped in her spectacular mounds, her tiny bright nipple piercings standing out against the dark swollen flesh. She dangled helplessly from the ceiling, her legs and body twitching slightly, as Mehmet looked her up and down. What a pathetic little bitch she was, he thought; strung up, blindfolded, gagged, bruised, pierced. He moved closer and stroked her rubbery flank, her body hot to the touch. As he looked at the girl, dressed head to toe like a gimp in a fetish club, he knew her ordeal would not get any easier; far from it. During all this, Greta had approached Olivia and the patiently waiting Hasan.

“Hello again, baby,” Greta said warmly as her hand grasped Olivia’s tit, “let’s see how that new tongue is doing.”

With her mouth forced open by the ring gag, Greta easily reached in to pull out the writhing flesh of Olivia’s tongue to inspect both its length and how it was healing. Greta smiled at her handiwork. She had lengthened it enough to enhance the pleasure it would give as it lapped Greta’s pussy but not so much that the girl couldn’t talk or that it would flop out of her mouth. And the cut was so clean it had almost healed. But not quite and Greta didn’t want to risk reopening the wound. A minor inconvenience but good things come to those who wait. Still, things hadn’t gone entirely to plan and Greta considered what additional torture to inflict on her in the meantime. Though she had suffered much pain, Greta knew she had been let off lightly compared to her big titted friend. Her mind cycled through all the toys at her disposal, one being the strapping man with the huge cock.

“That’s coming along very nicely indeed,” Greta said, taking her fingers out of Olivia’s mouth while the other still squeezed her tit’s soft flesh, “soon you’ll be able to lick pussy like a pro. First though Hasan here hasn’t had a chance to fuck you, which is hardly fair is it? And your pretty little ass hasn’t been fucked yet. We wouldn’t want you to miss out on what your friends have had, would we?”

Without needing to be told exactly what Greta intended, Hasan moved enthusiastically, spurred on by knowing he would soon have his cock buried deep in the girl’s arse. But after undoing the strap holding her right leg in place, momentarily freeing her, Olivia showed she still had plenty of fight in her by kicking out violently. Its force surprised Hasan. Greta stood back and chuckled as Hasan wrestled with her bucking leg, using both muscular arms just to hold it. As much as she enjoyed the fight Olivia showed as it made breaking her all the more enjoyable, Greta couldn’t let the little bitch fight too long for there was still much to do. So while Hasan struggled to control her, Greta disappeared into the shadows for something Olivia was already familiar with. Focussed on throwing Hasan’s grip off her leg, Olivia didn’t realise what Greta was doing until too late. When the twin prongs of the cattle prod pressed firmly against the babe’s nipple, Greta waited just a moment for Olivia’s eyes to open as she worked out what was about to happen before squeezing the trigger.

As a jolt of electricity coursed through the cattle rod and into the sensitive tit flesh, a piercing squeal filled the room, Olivia’s entire body jumping as all her muscles contracted at once. Her leg straightened so quickly Hasan didn’t anticipate it, catching him squarely in the jaw and almost knocking him off his feet. Greta couldn’t stop laughing, the combination of the shuddering body and Hasan holding his face after being hurt by an otherwise helpless girl. It was even funnier knowing that Hasan was humiliated and would now be especially cruel to Olivia even though it was completely involuntary. Although a momentary loss of face, an admission that she was indeed human, she found the suffering of this feisty little bitch amusing. So while Hasan composed himself and spat out the blood, Greta leaned over and whispered into her ear.

“Stop your struggling, little cunt,” she said with a small smirk, “you exist to please us now. If your master wants to move your legs you will let him. You will let him do whatever he wants to you and you will be grateful for it. And because you’ve been such a naughty little whore and attacked him, you’re going to have be punished especially harshly. Fucking bitch.”

So saying, Greta stood and with all the drama of a religious ritual, held the cattle prod vertically above Olivia, placing it once more against her nipple as if plunging a knife into her breast. Looking into her eyes, Greta drank up their fear and pain and pulled the trigger. Again the girl spasmed, the unbound leg again violently kicking out. When her spasms calmed, Hasan walked back to her, his face a picture of anger and lust, and grabbed her leg. With her now limp limb over his shoulder, he bent it back until he met serious resistance, Olivia’s limber and athletic body struggling to take the strain. Wanting to revengefully hurt her, Hasan continued pushing and Olivia squealed in pain as he forced her foot to touch the table by her ear. He could tell from her contorted face how extreme the pain was but after what she had done to him she deserved everything she got. Leaning on the leg with his body, Hasan reached down and grabbed another leather restraint at the side of the table. Still holding her leg back with his body, he tied it into its new position before stepping back to look. The pain from her stretched groin must have been agony as her inarticulate mewling, scrunched up eyes and tears showed. Hasan made her torment even worse by fingering her widely splayed pussy up and down. Olivia involuntarily flinched at his touch, making the pain worse, her obscenely spread legs causing so much agony she was almost certain he had caused irreparable damage.

“What a pretty pink pussy that is,” Greta said, putting the cattle prod on the table and extending her own bony digits to touch Olivia’s cunt, “you look so inviting spread like that, slut. Sadly Hasan won’t be able to ram his cock deep into your ass if you’re like that.”

Olivia was in so much pain she couldn’t take in her tormentor’s taunting patronising words. Luckily her current position was not permanent since keeping her like this for long would damage the little plaything more than Greta wanted. So though she enjoyed that pained face and that gorgeous body contorted in pain, she had to allow it a more endurable position. Looking at Hasan, she nodded him to continue. Reluctantly he tore himself away from inserting his finger into Olivia’s snatch and moved round the table. Knowing she would be too scared to fight again, he had no problem undoing her other leg. The pressure on her groin meant that when her leg was released, Olivia voluntarily raised it, doing part of Hasan’s job for him. He duly did the rest, bending her leg up and securing it at the other end of the table. Olivia’s lower body had been bent upwards, thrusting her pert arse into the air. With her legs still spread wide, her cheeks parted enough to reveal the puckered ring of her virgin arsehole. Stripping off his shorts to reveal his huge throbbing erection, a small drop of precum at the end of his glans, Hasan quickly clambered onto the table, obsessed with feeling the grip of her arse chute around his cock. Standing on the wooden table, he reached forward and ran his hands over Olivia’s arse, admiring the toned tightness of this little bitch’s bottom.

Before being employed by Greta, he had not much of a taste for these petite girls, preferring Lucy’s sort of elegant beauty. This was why while Mehmet had been chatting to other girls, he had seen the raven haired temptress first, her high cheekbones and arrogant demeanour attracting him like a moth to a flame. Had he not been there to identify and capture potential victims, he would have tried hard to seduce and fuck her. He had been lucky that the object of his lust was part of the group they had kidnapped, for though the other two girls had fit the bill perfectly, Lucy was not the kind they usually targeted, being too self-assured, confident and street smart. But she too had been duped, drugged and defiled like the other two. Hasan’s luck had got even better when she had been chosen to go upstairs. It had been a long time since a girl they had ‘recruited’ had been sent there but then Lucy was special. Whenever he had used the goods up there, he had only seen women who had been raised in third world hovels, never a wealthy English girl. They were treated differently up there, meaning she would not be as broken as the other two bitches and he could still enjoy the pleasure of fucking a woman as enthusiastic about sex as he. But he had come to appreciate the charms of a girl like this, the cutesy girl next door look so adored in the West. He particularly enjoyed how quickly they submitted so meekly to his will, enjoying how much more powerful he was than them and how sexually inexperienced and therefore pleasurable their bodies were. That this bitch showed more fight and was more used than some other girls was irrelevant. He had a cute little blonde’s virgin arsehole to sink his cock into, a prize which any man would pay a lot of money for. With his hands on her hips and squatting slightly, he lined his dripping prick up to the inviting rosebud spread before him. He knew it would be painfully tight to begin with and he momentarily thought about rubbing the girl’s pussy to get her juices flowing, so as to lubricate her arse and his cock but thought better of it. As much as it might hurt him for the first few strokes, it would hurt her much more and that knowledge would help overcome his own pain. He spat on his hand and rubbed his cock just enough to actually get inside her then looked up, waiting for his cue to start.

The German knew Hasan wanted to get started and she didn’t blame him; indeed she too was growing impatient at being unable to use her new toy properly. But she made him wait for two reasons. One was her overwhelming desire for control. Though working with her employees, she didn’t want them using too much initiative or doing things without her explicit consent. She had been doing this far too well for far too long to allow some upstart immigrant to dictate what was done to her slaves and when. The other reason was that she hadn’t decided what else to do to Olivia. Having Hasan sodomise her would be extremely painful and humiliating but at this stage of the process she needed something more. She had not planned for this, hoping instead Olivia’s tongue would be healed and could be used for its intended purpose, and the feeling of not having everything under complete control frustrated her immensely. She tried not to show it lest the two Turks see her as anything other than the calm and collected persona she tried so hard to project. Her practised stride masking her inner frustration, Greta stalked the darkened edges in the room, searching for inspiration. Her dungeon was lit so that those in the middle, her victims, couldn’t see beyond but there was sufficient light once beyond the bright glare to see a glorious and terrifying sight. Along the walls were racks of torture devices; whips, crops, manacles, cuffs, dildos, etc. Anything one could imagine in a dungeon was there, mounted along the wall or in boxes on the floor. Greta searched through her mind for the ideal device to inflict the requisite level of pain or humiliation on the poor bound girl. As she looked at the various items, she had flashbacks to each time she had used them on some slut, their faces twisting in agony as they endured Greta’s wrath.

Hasan ran his cock head along the cleft of Olivia’s cheeks, her puckered hole just begging him to force his massive prick inside her. His dick twitched in anticipation and it was all he could do not to ram himself into the pretty little bitch. Greta really was taking the piss, making him hover over the girl without being able to penetrate while she chose some implement of torture. In truth he didn’t care if Greta was hurting Olivia, all he wanted was to feel the tight grip of her arsehole around his cock as soon as possible. But it was all part of Greta’s routine, to show her total control of both him and the girl. It was a transparent ploy and while it might strike fear into the pathetic girls they bought in here, it didn’t effect him or Mehmet. Yet he owed the woman who owned this place a great debt, given the unholy enjoyment he got out of her generosity. So though frustrating to have such a tight hole in front of him and be unable to plough it, the price was worth paying.

Greta could sense the frustration radiating from the table but it didn’t perturb her as she searched for the perfect accompaniment to Hasan’s buggering of Olivia. Although Olivia’s new tongue couldn’t pleasure Greta, seeing her slave’s pain filled eyes would give her plenty of joy. And now she knew what would be perfect for the spoilt little bitch. A corner cupboard had exactly what she needed and Greta now relaxed; with a plan, she was back in control. With her trademark purposed stride, the leather clad woman opened the cupboard, revealing inside a large candle, a small glass vial of oil, matches and a small metal pan. Impatient to begin, Greta took the matches and lit the candle.

In the central bright light, Olivia did not know what Greta was up to in the corner. When the lights suddenly went out, Olivia panicked, oblivious to the fact Greta had merely turned the lights off. In her heightened state of fear, she suddenly felt as if these awful people had blinded her. She would put nothing past these monsters given how they had already treated her and her friends. But then she saw a faint light edging its way towards her, flickering like a flame and sending shadows onto the ceiling above her. Still terrified, Olivia shuddered as she felt a thud near her head, closing her eyes for some small relief from what was about to happen. She didn’t dare to open them, knowing from her position, the touch of Hasan’s hands on her hips and the tip of his dick resting against her virgin hole that she was about to be fucked in her arse and with Greta back that this would be accompanied by some heinous torture. Her ordeal was about to start.

“You may begin, Hasan,” Greta said, her eyes intent on the terrified girl’s face, “start slowly.”

Hasan didn’t need a second invitation. Greta scarcely finished talking before he pushed the tip of his cock hard against Olivia’s sphincter. Unsurprisingly he met with much resistance; this one had plenty of fight in her. But Hasan wasn’t going to lose a battle with a little cunt like this. Continuing to push forward with his cock, he used his body weight to increase the pressure on her arsehole. With his right hand, he stroked along the outside of her thigh and cheek, before bringing it down hard with a sickening slap which echoed around the room. He smiled as his large hand once again struck her powerfully on the rump, knowing from her high pitched yelp that it caused a great deal of pain. He slapped her another three times with his right hand and twice with his left, all the while pressing forcefully with his cock. As his left hand came down again, he heard another sound and looked up to see Greta’s hand resting against Olivia’s already reddening cheek.

“Let him into your ass, Blondie,” Greta whispered almost tenderly into Olivia’s ear, “remember you exist only to please. Your master wants to fuck your virgin ass and you don’t have a choice. So can you relax for your master, baby? Or if you prefer you can do it for me, your mistress?”

Behind Olivia’s closed eyes, tears welled and dripped down her face. What had she done to deserve this? She had always tried to be good, to treat people as she would like to be treated, even people she didn’t particularly like. She had even been civil to that creepy guy in the year below who had sent her those obscene pictures. She rarely said a bad word about anybody and yet here she was, strapped to a table about to be anally raped while a sadistic woman prepared to torture her. Though she had only been here for what she guessed was a few days yet it felt like a lifetime, her life before the dungeon just a mirage. And as if being at the mercy of these three here wasn’t bad enough, Greta’s patronising and faux loving tone made it worse, only reminding her of her helpless situation. Talking to her as if she were a child, a pet or even someone complicit in this whole thing made Olivia feel less than human. Determined to resist as much as possible yet she would gain nothing now, only yet more pain and torture. So despite herself and with an almost overwhelming sense of shame, Olivia relaxed her rectum and reluctantly allowed Hasan inside her.

It wasn’t much but that momentary relaxation of Olivia’s sphincter was enough for the tip of Hasan’s cock to slip past the tight ring of muscles and into her hot and inviting chute. Almost immediately, Olivia reflexively clenched around his cock as if it were possible to force it out but it was too late. This small incursion inside her would soon expand under his inexorable pressure. But it was so tight he half questioned whether he would even fit, though of course it wouldn’t be for a lack of trying. Readjusting his feet on the table to get a better position, he then gripping underneath her legs and tried to force himself inside her. Pulling up with his arms and using his legs to push his body into her, he began to move like a slow glacier further inside her. Olivia moaned as the massive invader painfully stretched her taut hole far beyond any constipation she had ever felt. It was painful for him too as with no lube her dry walls caused a great deal of painful friction but it was worth it to feel the tightness and for him at least the pain would soon give way to pleasure. With his unstoppable entry already begun, Greta decided to have some fun.

“There’s a good girl,” Greta once again whispered, “don’t pretend you’re not enjoying it, you little whore. Don’t fight it; just enjoy pleasing your master. Now open your eyes.” The last sentence was punctuated by another firm slap on Olivia’s cheek as Greta’s other hand reached round and squeezed a breast. Reluctantly, tears streaming down her face, Olivia opened her eyes. As she blinked away tears, she looked up at the man forcing his cock into her arse. In the candle’s flickering light he looked terrifying, his face contorted into a twisted snarl of lust. Above her, Greta looked down with no emotion, not reacting at all as both of them intermittently groaned in pain and, in Hasan’s case, pleasure. She didn’t take her eyes off Olivia’s pretty face as Hasan, taking almost three minutes, finally buried himself to the hilt in Olivia’s arse. He savoured it for a moment, not moving but just relishing the firm warm grip of her arse chute on his throbbing shaft. Greta once again leaned in, her sharp features made all the more intimidating by the flickering light.

“Now, girl,” Greta said, her hand leaving Olivia’s breast and grasping the vial of oil she had brought over to the table, “you’re pleasuring your master nicely but you’re doing nothing for your mistress. You don’t want that, do you? And what does your mistress enjoy most of all?” Greta left a long pause, as if expecting Olivia to answer. While waiting, she poured a small amount of the oil into a metal pan and held it above the candle. “What pleases me most is watching my toys in pain. And considering you live to please me, you’ll enjoy the pain, won’t you, slut?”

Olivia had known some kind of torture was coming so Greta’s words didn’t shock her. Indeed her arsehole was so painful she could barely concentrate on anything else. Given the tears and the pain of Hasan slowly pulling his cock out of her bum then plunging back in, Olivia couldn’t think about what Greta intended. So she didn’t notice Greta heating a small pan of oil just inches from her face. She had been told to keep her eyes open and did, watching Hasan pull out his dick until just the tip was inside her and pushing forward again to her accompanying yelp, then repeating the action, each time forcing himself inside quicker and deeper. And now Olivia heard the sizzling near her ear. Her eyes flitted across to see the candle with the pan hovering just above it just in time to see Greta take up the sizzling metal plate and hold it directly above her chest.

“I can assure you this will hurt, baby,” Greta said patronisingly, “but it won’t leave any lasting damage. We wouldn’t want to ruin that beautiful skin just yet, would we?” With that, she smiled at Olivia and tipped up the plate.

When the oil touched Olivia’s soft skin, her scream rang out around the room. Partly anticipating the pain and from the pain itself, Olivia wailed loudly, her eyes scrunched up as if to block the searing heat. Her breast felt as if it had been set on fire, demoralising her with the feeling of being forever horribly scarred by burns. She was caught in a maelstrom of pain, the agonising penetration of her anus combining with this boiling assault on her tit. Which Greta increased into a perfect shitstorm by covering both breasts in the burning oil, turning them an angry red where it touched but causing no lasting damage. Olivia didn’t know that. All her existence had become a sharp burning pain in a burning ocean of friction as Hasan quickened his strokes against her anal ring.

As Greta prepared to torture her upper body, Hasan’s progress into her had become easier. A combination of his precum and her walls loosening slightly allowed him to now thrust further into her tight hole. He did just that, his hands tightening their grip on her hips as he leant over to get the best possible angle. Fucking almost vertically now, Hasan sped up even more, the vice like grip of her virgin walls sending him wild with desire and pleasure. Olivia’s scream as the oil hit her tit was a further aphrodisiac, as was the sheen it gave her perky chest as Greta rubbed it over both breasts.

“Lovely screaming,” Greta said, both hands pawing Olivia’s glistening mounds, “now let’s get these tits nice and oiled before I pour some more on. And I want you to scream just as you did before. Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

Olivia was far too distracted to hear Greta’s words. Even if she had, she could not have answered the demeaning question for the pain she now felt blocked all thought. When Greta’s hands stopped roaming over her breasts, Olivia knew exactly where they were going and tried to mentally prepare for what was coming. This time Greta hid nothing from her victim, pouring the oil onto the plate right in front of her. As much as she did not want to see, Olivia knew Greta wanted her to and it would be prudent not to anger the hovering monster. As she moved the plate over the candle, Greta put the vial down and with her free hand traced one of Olivia’s wet nipples with a long finger. A few minutes passed while Hasan pounded in and out of Olivia until Greta heard the oil sizzling and moved it away from the flame. She closed her eyes to savour the next phase, waiting some time before once again dribbling the oil down. With a twisted smile, she gleefully listened to the tortured scream beneath her. She could listen to such screams till her dying day especially when she caused them. As the wailing turned to whimpering, Greta looked up to see Hasan nearing his climax.

Olivia’s last scream sent Hasan almost over the edge. As the pain hit, she clenched every muscle in her body, the walls of her arse chute gripping him so tightly it almost hurt. Pulling up on her legs and painfully arching her back even more, he buried every last millimetre of himself in her hole. Looking down at the shimmering reddened globes bouncing lightly on her chest, he couldn’t hold back. With an inarticulate roar, Hasan shook with pleasure, his prick shuddering and filling her bowels with a huge load of cum, his cock continuing to twitch inside her, each time squirting a thick wad of spunk deep into her tight rectum. Even as he softened, he enjoyed the friction heat of her arse around his dick. As the last spasms ended, he looked guiltily at Greta, detecting her annoyance at his finishing so soon. It was soon gone and Hasan hoped she would realise that Olivia’s arse was so tight he had lasted as long as he could. Greta beckoned him forward with a slight nod and Hasan slid his cock out of Olivia’s now slick arsehole with some reluctance and waddled, his legs either side of the girl, toward her head, a trail of white and flecks of red sliming her midriff. As he knelt across her chest, Greta placed her hands either side of Olivia’s head and leaned in once again.

“Sorry your ass fucking is over?” Greta whispered menacingly, “I know whores like you love that. Now it’s time to clean your master and to use that brand new tongue of yours. Don’t worry though, it’ll be easy. All you need to do is stick it out and let your master clean himself.”

Olivia didn’t have time to do anything for when Greta finished, Hasan leaned forward and dangled his limp cock in her wide open-gagged mouth. Immediately she tasted his salty cum as the tip of his dick slid along her tongue, recoiling in part because of the taste and in part because she knew where it had been, trying to keep her tongue from Hasan’s prick as much as she could. But both the pain her tongue gave her and her bonds meant she couldn’t.

“Stick out your tongue, bitch,” Greta screamed and slammed the table, “or I’ll cut it out!”

With no choice, Olivia stuck out her tongue. It hurt but she could handle it and it was certainly preferable to whatever they would do if she didn’t obey. So she stuck it out – and discovered what Greta’s little operation had done. Opening her eyes for the first time since Hasan had come out of her arse, she was saw his dick dangling down to her mouth like an elephant’s trunk. At the back she could see her tongue snaking up, long enough to touch the base of his dick. It had been lengthened, not obscenely but enough to be noticeably different for the rest of her life. Yet more tears filled her eyes as he wiped his cock up and down her tongue.

Hasan groaned at the soft touch of the bitch’s mouth on his prick, the sweet sensation making it twitch despite having just blown his load. He shuffled forward to bring his cock directly above her face then leant back and supported himself on her chest. As he moved his crotch up and down to clean his dick, his hands squeezed her slippery tits, knowing it would hurt. She couldn’t do much with her tongue yet so he moved his cock around, making sure to rub the grime off every inch. Now clean, he looked at Greta who nodded, indicating his work was done. Slowly he released his grip on her tits and levered himself off the table to the floor. When he had, Greta once again leant over Olivia’s face, the candle in her hand just centimetres from the girl’s head.

“You did well, whore, “ she said, turning the candle round in her hand, “soon you’ll graduate to pleasuring your mistress like a proper cumslut. Now I’m going to leave you here to heal some more. That hanging piece of fuckmeat doesn’t need any light, it doesn’t deserve to see. But you’re a good girl so I wouldn’t want to leave you in the dark. Only problem is, if I leave the candle on the table, the wax will drip and ruin it. So we’ll have to find somewhere else to put it.” As she said this, Greta’s finger ran up her leg, across her cheeks and into her arsehole. Olivia knew immediately where it was going and briefly struggled, stopping in exhausted futility. Greta handed the candle to Hasan who began shaving the bottom into a cone with a knife while ensuring that Olivia saw what he was doing.

“Here’s an idea!” Greta exclaimed with faux excitement, “we can use your newly popped ass as a little candle holder. You’d like that wouldn’t, you slut, having your ass stuffed with something nice and big?” With that Hasan took the candle, its flame still flickering, and gleefully worked it into Olivia’s still weakened arse. The tapering made it easy and he was buoyed by her mewling as he jammed the candle butt into her gaping hole. Hasan took a step back to admire his handiwork and Greta, still hovering over Olivia’s face, looked over to see the candle jutting up out of the girl’s arse.

“My, my, you look so beautiful. You really are a good little girl, aren’t you? A perfect cumslut and now a perfect human candle holder. That red wax will drip all over your pretty pink cunt, making it look lovely. Now I’m going to let you rest for a bit but I’ll be back and we can put you to work. Sweet dreams.” After kissing Olivia’s forehead, Greta ascended the stairs, Mehmet and Hasan in tow. Behind, the two bound girls were left alone with just the candle’s flickering flame. And the hot wax.

———————————————————————————–

By the sixth bar, Hanneman felt like giving up. It was well past 2am and he could barely think straight, his head spinning from booze. Looking behind the bar, he could see the staff preparing to clear up as the night wound down. This would be his last attempt for the evening and he had little optimism about the results. Like all the other establishments, he went up to the bar and asked the staff if they had seen the girls. A combination of the time and his dishevelled appearance meant the answers he received were unsurprisingly short and impatient, causing his despondency to grow. He put the girl’s photos back in his folder, the area he’d hoped would be full of clues depressingly bare. Just as he was about to leave the bar for home, a lone man propping up the bar caught his attention.

“Looking for those three English bitches?” he slurred, looking even less presentable than Hanneman.

“The kidnapped girls yes,” Hanneman replied, slightly put out by how he’d referred to them, “do you know anything?”

“Set of stuck up cunts they looked,” he continued, “gorgeous though. I wouldn’t have minded playing with them for a while if you know what I mean?”

“Did you see them the night they disappeared?” the detective asked, his interest captured by the drunken man’s apparent knowledge of his targets.

“Oh I saw them, sat in that booth over there. They were sat with two Turkish lads, all three of them really drunk. Can’t handle their drink, can they, the English.”

“Turkish men?” Hanneman continued to press, getting excited that he might finally have a lead.

“Yeah,” the old man slurred, a booze filled hiccup erupting as he spoke, “brown anyway, looked like Arabs. Those sluts were all over them, got drunk so fast. One minute they were just sitting there teasing, the next they were being carried out.”

“The Turkish guys carried them out?”

“Oh yeah, about to fuck their brains out I should think. One little one, tell you what…”

“Did you see where they went?” Hanneman interrupted, not wanting to hear what the old pervert wanted to do to the girls.

“Afraid not, they just carried the whores outside. I’ve seen one of the guys in here quite a lot. Come to think of it, I’m sure I’ve seen him working here before.”

Hanneman turned to the barmaid with a quizzical look that asked if she knew anything about it. But the woman was in no mood to help. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the girls, indeed quite the opposite. When she had heard that three pretty 18 year olds were missing, she had shuddered at what they would now being going through, knowing there was only one reason somebody would take girls like that. Nor was she reluctant to talk to him in fear that the man who had taken them did indeed work at the bar. She was just a student working in a bar to pay her way through university, owing no allegiance to the establishment. The only reason she wasn’t being helpful was that as the bar was closing, she had no time for the ramblings of two drunk middle aged perverts. That one had a police badge made no difference for she saw her fair share of washed up cops drowning their sorrows. Instead she looked with pity at the detective and rang the bell behind the bar.

“Time!” she shouted and watched the last patrons stumble toward the door. Hanneman stood for a moment. He was close, he knew, but his only lead was a drunken old man who didn’t seem to care about the girls he was seeking and if he was to find who was behind this and rescue his career he had to get as much information from him as he could. So as the man struggled to his feet Hanneman did the same, trying to look in control despite the amount he’d drunk. Both men staggered to the door, the barmaid sweeping up behind them, virtually pushing them out. Stumbling out of the bar Hanneman looked at the man as he swayed from side to side.

“I’d love to pick your brains if that’s ok?” Hanneman asked, although he wasn’t sure if the man had heard as he stood staring down the street.

“I gotta get home now,” the drink addled man replied, “But I’ll be here tomorrow, same time. You can buy me drinks all night and I’ll tell you everything I saw that night.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Hanneman said, both men then leaving in opposite directions. He walked with a spring in his step or at least thought he did, the drink making him stumble along the pavement. But he had a lead! Which he couldn’t go back to the station with; the word of some drunken old man was hardly enough to revive his career. But it was a start. If he could just get more information, identify who these Turks were and follow that up then maybe, just maybe, he might break this case and give his sorry excuse for a life a modicum of meaning.

——————————————————————————————–

Having bathed and allowed to rest, Lucy no longer struggled behind her guide but strode, if a little sheepishly, in her wake. Being reminded of her situation after merely asking the woman’s name was a blow. Her horrible memories of the dungeon and even the horrors her friends were still enduring had dimmed. She had been brought back to earth with a bump, so despite being refreshed and rested she was emotionally drained. And the corridor seemed to stretch on forever which made her wonder just how big this complex was or even where it was. The more she saw, the more sophisticated it became and her hope of escape corresponding shrank. Shaking her head to banish that thought, she tried to focus on looking straight ahead at the barely lit corridor.

Reaching a door, the woman pressed a part of the wall and the door slowly opened. Wordlessly Lucy entered, her guide following, the door closing slowly behind. On a click, the room lit up and the far wall suddenly became transparent, revealing a sight which shocked and appalled her.

The wall was obviously a one way mirror for the people didn’t react to the lights coming on. Even if they could have, they were likely too distracted to notice. Lucy stared open mouthed. On one side was a woman wearing the same robe as Lucy with some differences. Her robe was a bright blood red, open all the way down, with a black-trimmed red corset tied very tightly around her stomach. Her large breasts were very obviously fake, standing up off her chest like two beach balls, the nipples impossibly erect. She wore long red leather thigh boots, widening at the top and reaching to just below a thick bush of black hair obscuring her pussy. She looked in her late thirties with a slender build, although her vampish makeup made it hard to tell. Three things struck Lucy immediately. One was how pale the woman was, her blue veins clearly visible in the room’s dim light. The second was her shock of bright orange hair, clearly not her natural colour but so vibrant it was almost blinding. The third and by far the most striking thing, was the two metre long bamboo shaft she held.

Opposite her was a figure equally frightening, a man holding an identical bamboo shaft whose entire body was covered in tattoos. Only his head and hands were not inked. Even his erect cock had a grotesque artwork of a spear whose end dripped blood, tattooed even onto his foreskin. Disgusting and shocking images adorned his body including a terrifying image on his stomach which Lucy assumed was the devil that roiled and twisted with every move the man made. His clothing was as bizarre as the woman’s. Two studded leather straps criss-crossed his chest with small rings around his pierced nipples. The two straps connected to a leather jock strap running around his waist with a small loop pulled so tight around his scrotum that it was swollen purple. He wore a thick leather choker studded with metal around his neck. In contrast to the woman’s stony expression, a twisted grin contorted his face, his forked tongue sticking out and dancing with delight. Lucy physically gasped when she saw him; even through the glass the man terrified her.

Such was the man’s grotesque nature that Lucy did not immediately see the room’s third person. Once seen, her heart sank. Two thick brown ropes hung from the ceiling, suspending a girl by one leg and one arm. Her face was misery incarnate, so streaked with tears and contorted in agony that Lucy could not clearly see her features. But she could see her battered body, her richly tanned skin covered in long red welts, no doubt the work of those vicious bamboo staves. Barely an inch wasn’t marked, evidence of a sustained barrage of sadistic blows. Her crotch in particular was red, her labia having turned from a deep brown to a vivid throbbing red. Although her breasts hung horizontally across her chest due to how she was suspended, they were clearly large and pert, indicating a girl in her late teens or early twenties. But countless stripes also covered them. A thin rivulet of blood flowed down the girl’s suspended leg, her attempts to escape the scything blows obviously causing the ropes binding her to chafe her skin painfully. It was a scene out of an extreme BDSM porn film but Lucy knew that these were no actors and the suspended girl had given no consent.

As Lucy looked on, the action continued. Behind the girl, the man raised the stick and then, with an animalistic roar, eyes wide and mouth contorted into a grotesque smile, cracked the thick cylinder of bamboo squarely between the girl’s throbbing pussy lips. A banshee like wail filled Lucy’s ears and completely drowned the sound of the blow and the man’s cackling laughter. As the scream died, the woman in front of the girl raised her staff and smashed it onto her stomach. The blow’s force made the girl jerk in her bonds and give another spine tingling scream, bringing a small smile to the face of the scarlet clad woman. As the man raised his staff again, Lucy turned to the woman behind her.

“Please,” Lucy pleaded with a tear in her eye,” don’t make me watch.”

“You must watch,” the woman replied, completely unmoved by the brutal beating, “for soon that will be you.”

Lucy’s eyes opened wide. She couldn’t believe what she had just been told. The woman had said she had been chosen, that she wouldn’t be tortured of raped by men or women; now she was being told otherwise. If she was beaten like the girl in the chamber, Lucy was sure she would either die or go insane. Nothing she had endured at the hands of those sadists in the dungeon had been as bad as what she saw now. With her eyes still pleading, Lucy began to beg.

“No, please, you can’t let them do it! I can’t take that! Please I’ll do anything! Please…”

“Quiet!” The woman snapped, visibly irritated at Lucy’s pleas, “You will do what you are told. I said it would be job to please your masters. Your masters do not just want you to fuck. They can fuck any of the cheap whores in here as easy as they like. They want you to fuck them. You will learn how to truly please a man or woman with your body. But your masters will want more than that which is why you have been chosen. You already showed you can do it when beat your friend. Soon you will be aiding your masters when they torture girls. Soon you will enjoy it. Just like her.”

Lucy looked back to the chamber as another blow hit the girl’s back. She had got it wrong. She was not intended to be the girl suspended from the ceiling. Instead she looked at the woman in red, laughing at the tanned girl’s agonised screeches. She couldn’t believe the evil woman so savagely beating a helpless and innocent girl had once been like her. Surely they didn’t expect Lucy to take pleasure from somebody else’s suffering? How could a normal girl like her enjoy putting somebody through so much pain? Then she remembered what she already done. How she had beaten Holly’s breasts with the paddle as she fucked her. How she had ground her pussy into her friend’s face just so she could cum. How she had got carried away and almost cum as she watched Holly being double penetrated and whipped. Lucy’s heart sank, realising that she was already part-way to being that woman. She was no longer who she had been when she had been abducted. As she watched the woman viciously hit the screaming girl’s tits, Lucy knew she was looking at her future.

———————————————————

Stepping into the small passport office, Jeremiah tried to look confident but didn’t feel it. He knew this second part of the journey could go badly wrong with severe consequences for himself. But, smiling broadly, he prodded the woman in front, nudging her toward the squat little man behind the desk. Coming in on his own personal privately chartered plane meant no crowd to wade through, no clamouring masses who might give him away. In truth this was far less dangerous than when he had left the States with his precious cargo but he was still apprehensive. He watched nervously as the blonde handed her passport to the man behind the glass who studied it intently, looking from the girl to the document numerous times. Unable to see her face, Jeremiah had no idea if she was secretly telling him something was wrong. His heart skipped a beat as the man looked over her shoulder at him, his beady little eyes behind his spectacles seemingly filled with great distrust. When the man eventually smiled and handed the passport back, he was relieved. Tentatively the girl took the document and walked to the side, leaving Jeremiah next in the queue.

“Wait for me there, darling,” he called out in his Texan drawl, stopping her in his tracks. It had been a magnificent flight, truly the best he had ever had. It hadn’t started like that. Moving through the airport hadn’t been easy. If having a private jet meant he avoided the busiest part of the airport yet plenty of people could have rumbled him at any time. He knew the case of the missing college girl had received national attention and as he walked with the stunning blonde he had kidnapped, he had been terrified somebody would recognise her. He had her dressed in a low cap to obscure most of her face from a glance but when she had handed in her passport he had been almost shaking with fear. Of course he had warned her of what would happen if she tried to reveal who she really was but he knew that if she did he could do nothing about it. Thankfully she hadn’t known that and had gone along with it. Just fifteen minutes later they were on his plane; Jeremiah, Melissa and his bodyguard Tyrus with six hours to kill. Of course they had not wasted much time. While Tyrus made his employer a stiff drink, Jeremiah had Melissa strip which she had done many time since he had taken her. Knowing he would punish her severely if she didn’t obey, the girl instantly whipped off the baggy layer of clothes he had forced her to wear to reveal the skimpiest little vest and hot pants combination. He quickly put on some cheesy strip tease music and she began to gyrate, knowing it pleased him if she moved like a skanky stripper. Of course it wouldn’t be Jeremiah without some physical pain, the thin wooden cane he always kept on the plane encouraging her often. While her hands roamed over her young athletic body, he laughed each time he smacked her. She had yelped at each blow but had continued stoically, first lifting up her tight top to reveal her glorious breasts before removing the hot pants and spreading her legs wide to show her two tight holes. To the uninitiated she seemed to enjoy it, seemingly completely broken in just three weeks, but not so. Instead she was simply seeking to avoid further punishment, her survival instincts hoping that pleasing the man would spare her his most savage wrath.

When Tyrus returned, they had not been kind to the girl, spanking her arse till it was red, pinching and twisting her nipples till they were puffy and swollen, tying her up in various uncomfortable positions, pulling her hair so hard they had nearly ripped it out and inserting all sorts of objects, their dicks among them, into her various holes. A personal highlight for Jeremiah had been her choking on Tyrus’ huge black cock while he fucked her with a champagne bottle, stretching her pussy further than he ever had. Of course she had screamed and squealed through their hours of abuse but it didn’t matter; the two pilots were paid handsomely to say nothing. After a whirlwind few hours of assaulting the poor girl, they decided to sleep, bending her body into a tight bow and leaving her like that while they rested. Then just a few minutes before touching down, they set upon her again, handling her as roughly as before. Then Tyrus held her down while Jeremiah dressed her ready for the journey. He towered over her, holding a pair of black shorts with two thick dildos sticking up on the inside. Despite Melissa’s struggles, he eventually inserted both into her arse and cunt. After dressing her, he then sat her down in her seat, pulled out a remote control and switched it on. As the two dildos began vibrating vigorously inside her, she immediately jumped up as much as her seatbelt allowed. The two men laughed as she squirmed to escape but she had strict instructions not to. Her first orgasm was perfectly timed, her knees going weak just as she stepped off the plane.

Of course he had turned it off as she approached passport control but as she passed him, he reached into his pocket and flicked it back on, smiling as he watched her shake with the sudden vibration. He had gotten his prize through the difficult part of his journey, although for her the hardship was just beginning. Confidently he strode to the booth and handed his passport to the man who examined it. This time Jeremiah wasn’t worried at all. With a forced smile that sat badly on his rubbery face, the man handed the passport back.

“Zere you go, Herr Johnson,” the man said, his broken English delivered in a thick German accent, “I hope you and your daughter enjoy your stay in Germany.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

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