Slave Hunters, Slave Preys

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Chapter 4

 

By  Wolff and Nikita

 

 

 

Synopsis: In a phantasmagorical tale of sexual slavery, a mysterious man and woman, a generic sheik, twin submissives, and even some celebrities, come together in a story exploring submissive and dominant needs. Just for fun, there are many references and allegories to pop culture.  It is surreal at times but it is not fantasy or a spoof.

 

The story begins with a dance of dominance and submission between two strangers on a plane,  Wolff and Nikita, and moves on to unravel a sinister plot brewing in the bowels of the aircraft.  The intensity of events grows with each chapter. The scenes include the sacrament of a sadistic communion between the generic sheik and The Catholic Girl, a female switch turned to slave, a pair of twins separated at birth, one who is Wolf's pet and the other is Nikita's slut slave.

 

This series is a work in progress because our perverted imaginations take us to unknown destinations. We hope you enjoy the journey with us.

 

This chapeter was written by Wolff and Nikita.

 

 

 

 

 

Toasted Slut Sandwich

 

 

 

© 2006 Wolfwerks and Nikita

 

 

 

 

The Sandwich is Served

 

 

Meanwhile, in the first class cabin, flight attendant Sophia Check rushed into the cockpit and blurted, "Sir, I have urgent message from that sheik, and...."

 

She stopped. Her green eyes went wide as she stared at Carleen's flame haired head bobbing between Captain Over's long legs.  Placing his hand on the little slut's head, he looked up and grinned amiably.

 

"Yes, Check? What is it?"

 

Sophia Check was big boned and 5'2".  Her breasts caused her some embarrassment by being too small for her frame.  Her auburn hair was tightly packed in a neat bun except for a few wispy strands around her face.  And those damnable butterflies in her gut sent her the message she hated...she envied that waif, ever since the little flight attendant developed a strange relationship with that commanding Nikita woman.

 

Carleen was an eager flight slut.  Sophia noticed her disheveled uniform, hands behind her back, the tear stained, yet, ecstatic face, and sensuous lips wrapped around Captain Over's dick.  Sophia managed to tear her gaze from cockpit cocksucking and face Captain Over's taunting grin.

 

"He says that he needs the ... slut ... down there right away.  Respectfully, Sir. And...."  she checked the paper again in disbelief, "And, and, he invites you and Captain Roger to ... Catholic Girl Hunt.  Whatever that is," she finished indignantly.

 

"Check!" Captains Over and Roger roared at that worn-out joke.

 

"And tell him..." he pressed Carleen's face in his crotch, "He will have his slut as soon as me and Roger are over and out!"  They roared again.

 

Shaking her head, she cast her last glance at the gasping little slut and left.

 

In a small passage adjacent to the cock pit, she heard strange, desperate noises from the side door.  Sophia turned and looked inquisitively at the two Flight Clowns.

 

"That's Captain Marks!  He made a wrong turn on the way to cockpit and is trying to find his way back."  They roared yet again.

 

’Pilots are just spoiled kids,' Sophia thought angrily, not knowing how right she was, and went back to deliver the message to one of the sheik's faceless men.

 

She again pondered the strange, last minute replacements of the flight crew, and even stranger, the extensive refurbishing of the huge lower bulkheads to which most of the crew had no access to now.

 

** ** **

 

 

"Start," he said.

 

Nikita was soon lost in needy turmoil.  Only her pussy flow and Cat's expert, spider-soft touches remained.  She felt like a malt keg in which the Wolf struck a pussy-pipe.  It was betraying her with every drop of her juice.  Aware that the stream was endless, she was infuriated and aroused even more. Whenever her muscles tensed with the on rushing orgasm, Cat would stop and slap her inflamed pussy or pinch her fattening clitoris - hard.

 

During this maddening orgasm-rimming she sniffed cinnamon and felt an insistent gaze.  She tried to focus her fluttering eyes on a pair of opaque shiny orbs boring into her, accompanied by a smiling, sensual mouth and a hawk-like nose.

 

"Quality slut flesh, I'd say," he said, almost kindly.

 

Involuntarily and feeling absurd she licked her dry lips and stammered: "Sheik Ha... Hassan ... " 

 

He grinned.

 

"Just call me Sheik Generic, my dear."

 

As he moved out of her blurred field of vision, somewhere a hawk screeched.  Nikita heard the Wolf's voice in the background, but was soon lost to the world, as Cat resumed her fiery ministrations.

 

Several short eternities later, the timer buzzed.  Slaps forced Nikita's eyes open.  She could barely discern the Wolf between her legs.  He was examining the drenched handkerchief with the attention an entomologist would give to an exotic beetle.  He sniffed and licked.  Squashing the small square of cloth in his fist, he managed to wring several drops of thick clear liquid onto her inflamed pussy.  ’Will those drops sizzle and evaporate?  Am I in Manga?’ she wondered.

 

"Good quality," Wolf muttered, "However the quantity is barely acceptable.  Ok, here are your choices, you will remain here, tied, until you prove your worth to me with adequate cunt yield, OR, you can join your property, Carleen, and my Cat for another game."

 

The word cunt fired her indignation and the concept of just being tied and opened interminably did not seem attractive any more.

 

"The game, Sir, with my...property," she almost spat,

 

"Very well. Cat, get that flight-slut of your sister.  All three of you will kneel here.  NOW!"

 

Cat untied Nikita, who did not know if she dared to flex her limbs.  There was no bath this time because Cat ran out and soon she returned with naked Carleen.  Nikita was stunned by mirrored waifs.  Insignificant, they were radiant in their submissive posturing.  Their obvious fear increased their beauty. ’Red and black,’ she observed noting their hair color, ‘what does it mean?’

 

The twins knelt, leaving a space for Nikita.  She shakily moved to join them.  As she cast glances at the fear-drenched faces and downcast eyes, she spied Carleen stealing bewildered looks at her. ’You, my dear little flirt, have seen nothing yet,’  spoke Nikita with her eyes.

 

The Wolf walked in front of them.  He was holding Fido in his arms.

 

"First of all," the Wolf said,  "Nikita, do you give over this slut Carleen, our Ping-Pong ball, to my absolute care, for me to train and use as I see fit, pass her on, as I see fit, or even return her to you, as I see fit, provided, of course, that you would be in position to own anything?"

 

Anger welled in her, but she bit down a heated retort, and, realizing this is the way she wanted it because HE wanted it, she simply said, "Yes Sir."

 

"And I can name her as I see fit?"

 

’Not the name!’ She screamed in her mind, ’She is mine!’

 

But all she said was, "Yes Sir."

 

"Now, you twin sluts are guilty, very guilty.  Cat, you impersonated your sister and indulged in submissive delights designed only for her.  You did not earn them.  Furthermore, you used that base deceit to approach MY slut, Nikita, and make demands of her.  And, you are a common, impertinent brat.  Is,'t this true?"

 

"Yes Sir, it is." Cat whispered, but still, she held her head high.

 

"And you," he said, turning his overpowering gaze at the other twin, "Are guilty of being Carleen.  You made it all possible, and are, by association, equally guilty as your insolent sister."

 

"But Sir...I...  mean she...."

 

"You ARE Carleen, aren't you?  You received that name from HER, didn't you?  And you used it while servicing as the flight slut, correct?"

 

"Yes Sir."  She hung her head and a shiver shook her body.

 

"Finally, YOU!"  Nikita felt his voice pushing her into the floor.  She now needed to howl like a wolflette and melt at his feet in a guilty shame, knowing she was guilty even before she heard what she was guilty of.

 

"You were the catalyst and incited them to want to do it.  Therefore, you are as guilty as they are. In fact, more so!"

 

As Nikita choked her vitriolic response, her need to stab at him diminished, but did not die.  Oh no!  She was aware that THIS was her first completely submissive act, on this crazy flight.  Yet, she gave him her plaything, and with it, ALL the playthings she owned, even, her capacity to OWE anything, but what HE wanted her to have.  This realization was devoured her, like a slow-burning acid.

 

"Therefore, it will be Toasted Slut Sandwich for all three of you."

 

Cat whimpered, then, squelched her protests as the Wolf stopped, waited, then continued.

 

"You will remain here, kneeling and reflecting on your transgressions, until you are taken to a place of execution.  I have a guard for you."

 

He placed Fido, the tiny dog, in front of the kneeling females, and promptly left.

 

Thoughts swirled in Nikita's head.  ‘I never know when the dogs are grinning!’  She stared at the beribboned shiatsu who licked her not so long ago.  Being 'guarded' by that miniature, grinning, mutt was ironic.  ’Is it a compliment? ’Did the Wolf transfer some kind of power to the dog, or was it a sign that he trusted them?  Maybe we are not worthy of any guards or bonds.’

 

The Guilty Triangle remained kneeling silently with the panting Fido in front of them.  To Nikita, the three of them formed some mysterious geoglyph, a drawing on the ground, whose meaning she could not fathom, but it certainly spelled out GUILTY.

 

Standing outside the door, the Wolf was calming his heart rate.  He had temporarily assuaged the incessant baying of that wolf pack that haunted him most of his life.  Putting to sleep those haunting wolf spooks would take much more.  He was determined to take that Nikita woman totally and irrevocably, then take her more, and more, and more, until she was his slave to such a degree that she could freely ride Wolf pack leader in the cold Night Forest of his mind.

 

** ** **

 

 

Sophia Check loosened the grill on the air duct leading the forbidden area, the lower bulkhead.  Squeezing through the opening. she had to find out.  Visions of Carleen sucking Captain Over's cock and other, darker images, too vague and forbidden, danced in her head.  Then, she heard mysterious chanting from below and wormed further in the narrow space.

 

"Fooka Fooka Fooka-ta..." droned voices like sirens in the fog.

 

** ** **

 

 

After a long spell, two massive guards silently appeared.  They were bare chested, pantalooned, and their faces were covered with black gauze.  They signaled to the trio of penitents to follow them.  As Nikita started to rise, she caught Cat's warning look, and joined the other two as they crawled on all fours behind the guards to their doom, followed by cheerily yelping shiatsu.

 

They emerged in the vast space that was the same hold in which she witnessed the camel races.  The pool of light engulfed a large circular platform that had a tall metal frame of shiny poles rising from it.  The frame had hanging chains that announced its sinister purpose.

 

Stopping at the foot of the platform, the culprits looked at the guard who pointed at the pile of massive steel bands and shiny leather.  He pushed a corset towards Nikita.  She held it indecisively in her shaking hands until Cat took over gently and the sisters started dressing her.  Narrow, and very tight, it was made of thick, slick black, heavily wired leather.  The corset pushed her breasts up, pressed her belly in, and her mons out.  It had three rows of sturdy D rings on each side and was laced up in the back.  Cat tightened it until Nikita could hardy breath.

 

Then, they locked heavy manacles on their own wrists and ankles.  One of the guards made them jump up onto the platform and hopped on himself.  Nikita was in daze as she stood in the middle of the circle, staring at the shiny poles rising towards the glaring lights.  As they stood pressed together, leather bands were hooked to the D rings on the corset and tightened around each of the twins' lower back.  Another strip was wrapped around them below the shoulder blades.  The Twins, facing Nikita, sandwiched her.

 

As the handlers tightened the leather, they crushed Nikita in the heaving female flesh.  Small, hard breasts pushed her own and another set in her back.  The twins squeezed out even more air from her corset-restrained lungs.

 

Their arms were raised and all three manacles were locked onto each other.  Their bound ankle bonds and their naked feet, on point, were pressed together like sardines.  Heavy leather mitts placed on their hands, were tightened, and all their fists bunched together.  Nikita felt tiny fingers slip over her fists, squeezing desperately.

 

The sound of clanking chains attached to the middle D rings on Nikita's corset and connected her to the top, middle and bottom of the poles.  Each bouquet of wrists and ankles was attached by three chains  They looked like three flies in a steel spider web.  Suddenly, the Slut Sandwich rose in the air, swaying slightly on the chains, accompanied by the whir of motors.

 

Perspiration shone on taut limbs.  The leather gripping the culprits together seemed like vertical black slashes across naked flesh.  Their muscles screamed as pain flashed in their shoulders.  This aching waiting was just a prequel to THE REAL pain.

 

The guards left.

 

While they waited, Nikita could not see Cat's face.  It was too close, however, the little slave's eyes found Nikita's, often shifting between resignation and desperation.  The girls' double breathing enveloped Nikita in a heated hiatus.  She was sucking in wisps of aromatic wood, too.

 

She moved her head just enough to see a tall iron brazier on the side of dais.  A thin column of white smoke danced above the glowing wood.  She danced with it and forgot the wait,  for about five seconds.

 

** ** **

 

 

Sophia Check was trying to glide silently along a narrow corridor between bulkheads. She had even taken her shoes off and was holding them in her hand, feeling uncomfortable as her stockinged feet touched cold, humming metal.

 

Suddenly a massive shadow stepped from the side entrance. She whirled and ran into a man who growled, "Yes, nosy little bitch! Want some fookka-fiikka action, little one?"

 

Confused, she looked into his eyes and they hit her with the power of blue maelstrom.  She felt a pinprick on her arm.  Sophia fell into that electric bleu tunnel.  It pushed her cogently towards her youth where it all started.

 

Shoes fell in slow motion on the floor and clattered, forgotten.

 

** ** **

 

 

Fooka Fiika Girl

 

 

The vast hold filled with people.  They milled around, clinking ice in their glasses, promoting the appreciative and festive mood.  They were not paying much attention to the spread-eagled slut sandwich floating between steel columns.  The spider web of gleaming chains seemed insubstantial and incidental to the X of trembling flesh.

 

Nikita was jerking and twisting her head around Cat's.  She was desperately trying to see what was going on.  She desperately needed to KNOW, not really knowing why.  In fact, it did not really matter.  She only needed to be a receiver.  Anything else should be just so much static in the ether.  That ether of subspace still eluded her.  Soon it will not.

 

As the room filled she thought she saw Angelina 'The lips' Jolie in that Lara Croft jumpsuit leading on the leash Freddie Mercury in latex lederhosen and jaunty beret.  He seemed quite alive.  'Twilight Zone time again,' she thought. (‘No you are way past twilight.  This is the night and its maw has taken you irreversibly. Irreversible!’)

 

Lara faced her...and winked.  Stunned Nikita was still staring at her when the girl was brought in and thrown on her knees in the circle of mock serious faces.

 

Nikita blinked.

 

Sheik Generic pompously strutted towards the uniformed girl.  She knelt before him like votive sacrifice, her hands tied on her back, wrapped up to her elbows with wide camel-hide strips, white knees sock on her legs, and black and white saddle shoes on her feet.  A starched white blouse with short sleeves, shirt collar, buttoned in front, was tucked into a stiff, pleated navy blue skirt. ,A monogram on the pocket over the heart shouted in red: OVER 18. P.U.M. (Please Use Me!)

 

The ring gag was stretching her mouth painfully, and drool was dripping down her chin.  Her green eyes were wide and fixed on him with a look perfectly defining a cross between absolute dread and absolute worship.  (Absolute Vodka was cooling in the next room.)  The bun had transformed into the auburn ponytail hanging down the back of her white blouse.

 

One of the men started chanting "OOO" and the others joined in.  The whole deck was reverberating with ominous, sonorous "OOO"-sound seemingly coming from nowhere.

 

Sheik Generic was bare breasted.  Loose pantaloons let his bulging dick stick obscenely out.  His two slaves, faces covered with the black gauze, were right behind him.  He grabbed her auburn head with both hands and arched back as much as he could, almost losing his footing in the process.  His cock pointing toward ceiling, his head was extended back and down, and his face a grinning mask.  Sheik was vibrating along with that "OOO" chant that permeated the hold.  It was obviously taking him beyond - into fuck-spaces unknown.

 

Suddenly both his massive slaves intoned in unison: "Aaaaaand...." and stopped.

 

Sheik poised on the balls of his feet, his body tense as a bow, his hands almost crushing the head of his petrified receptacle.

 

The Hawk's single eek-eeking scream impaled that moment of silence - the harbinger of doom.  Smoke columns over braziers danced appreciatively.  Ruddy firelights stretched swaying shadows.

 

"A Fookkka fookka fookatta ... A Fikka fikka fikka fikkatta ..."  Slaves began to chant in voices full of glottal stops.

 

On cue, Sheik swung his body forward with all his might.  His glistening cock unerringly found its offered target.  It rushed forcefully in the open mouth of helpless snotty bitch like Fukuoka express, ramming its way towards her gullet.  She buckled as he immersed it to the hilt.

 

He pulled out.  Only his cock-helmet remained in, swimming in the saliva brimming her mouth.  Keeping rhythm with the fookka-fiikka chant he started pummeling the hapless captive's mouth - sacrificing to unnamable and surely nonexistent gods.  With each thrust, her lips were squashed by his pubis, her face smashed into his pubic hair, his balls swinging vehemently against her chin.

 

Nikita was appalled at this senseless display.  She thought that poor girl will suffocate in this barbarian face-fucking ceremony.  Her stretched limbs were already hurting and her own ordeal had not even started yet.

 

She spied the Wolf in the crowd.  He was grinning at her.  His mouth formed O as the "OOO" chant returned.

 

As "OOO" replaced fookka-fikka chant, Sheik resumed the waiting pose.  He arched his back so far, that his hands barely reached the head of kneeling "Catholic Girl."  A thick strand of pearly mixture of pre-cum and saliva trailed from his heaven-defying cock to sacrifice's mouth.

 

She was gasping and spluttering, her body spasming as she tried to catch her breath.  The white blouse was covered with dark splotches.  Her tear brimmed eyes could not discern much.  She felt steely fingers gripping her head and an incredible stretching of the ring gag in her sore mouth.  Her tongue was lolling jerkily.  It's dripping tip swung this way and that like a frightened rabbit peeking from its hole to see if the danger is gone.  Bit, it wasn't.

 

As the chant resumed, he resumed ramming the throat of his face fucked kneeling victim.

 

"A Fookka fookka fookatta  A Fikka fikka fikka fikkatta .."

 

Nikita wanted to scream, wishing she could stop her ears.  But, she couldn't.

 

She swung her gaze and spied Justin Timberlake in the excited crowd in full leather regalia.  His bare chest was graced with the screaming tattoo: I WILL NEVER OPEN MY MOUTH AGAIN EXCEPT TO SUCK COCK!  He was drooling around his penis gag as he watched ritual face fuck and his lips were trying to join the crowd: "Fooka Fikka..." 

 

'I must be crazy,' she thought. (‘Crazy?  You are way past the entrance point to madness and into the screaming darkness of The Gods of Unnamable Cums.’)

 

The ritual skull fucking of the kneeling girl went on for a long time.  In "OOO" periods, the waits, she clung to him like a rag doll pulled off the ground entirely, her bound arms rising and falling in a mute call for un-forthcoming help.

 

Suddenly he screamed on the inward swing.  The hawk on the slave's shoulder echoed it.

 

Men started intoning high 'III' chant. Slaves went into a fast "Akhbar wooha a wooh" litany.  Seizuring, Sheik pumped his first load of royal jism in her throat.  Then he pulled out.  The cock fired massive, sticky, globules of cum on the wet fuck-surface.  Once it was a face.  Soon it will be face again. but not now.  It was red, puffed and welted.  Most of his cum dripped off the delirious 'Catholic Girls' head.

 

After jerking for a long time he collapsed, spent.  She also collapsed in a trembling, sobbing heap.  The sobs sounded strange.  The ring gag was still there.

 

The 'III' chanting stopped.  Smoke columns could rest from their frenzied belly dancing.  As the aromatic wood dwindled to smoldering cinders, attendants poured sacks of charcoal on braziers.

 

It was a typical ‘Masque of Red Death’ moment.  Then, a disturbing the eternal now of this hypnotic moment, nervous snippets of conversation bubbled in the crowd.

 

Another kind of ceremony was about to begin.  In a festive mood once again, the guests clinked ice in their glasses merrily.  Nikita wished she could faint.  Her manacled limbs and the sweating twin bodies pressing on her, affirmed that she could not.  Instead, she blinked.

 

** ** **

 

 

Later, Sophia awakened in a bare, metal cell.  A strange dream, a cross between her wet dreams and something from her childhood, was swirling in her head.  Then, the searing throbbing in her face, bruised lips and swollen tongue hit her.  THEN, she felt the ruined, wet blouse sticking to her torso, saw the wrinkled navy blue skirt and the rolled down stockings.

 

Bile rose in her throat.  She curled into the fetal ball and tried to stop the shivering coming from the abyss that engulfed her.

 

When one of faceless bullies entered she was staring at the black and white saddle shoes carelessly thrown in the corner.  He just looked at the girl in the ruined uniform as she lay on the cot.  The contrast of the curled woman/girl and this pantalooned giant was staggering.  But it was perfectly appropriate.  After all, this IS the Kink Plane.

 

THEN ...

 

** ** **

 

 

Sandwich Toasted, Sandwich Burnt

 

An eye blink later Nikita opened her eyes.  The room, (or what she could see of it) swam back in focus.  The crowd, warmed by the fookka-fikka skull fuck, gathered in a wide circle around the platform.  She thought she saw Lara Croft on the arm of Freddie M - and wished the focus would just go away.

 

THE Wolf was bare chested and a long plaited whip trailed from his hand.  He flicked his wrist and the mean black snake jumped up and cracked hungrily.  She wondered for the first time, ’Why am I sandwiched?  There must be more to it then just the symbol.  Maybe it is because he knows I cannot take it?’

 

She tried to shake her head.  It was too tightly wedged between two hard-breathing sluts.

 

The Wolf paced testily and impatiently.  He whisked the oiled whip.

 

"Are we going to toast this Sandwich or WHAT!?"

 

"We sure are - toast it and burn it!"  yelled Sheik Generic as he made his entrance.

 

He had changed into leather pants.  Two wide leather bands crisscrossing across his chest were held with a heavy steel hoop.  A large hoop in his ear matched it.

 

"Damn pirate!"  roared the Wolf.  Sheik cracked HIS whip in appreciation.  Carleen whimpered right in Nikita's ear.  Generic smiled.

 

"Nice appetizer! IT’S a BURN TIME!'

 

As they started circling in one direction, the platform rotated in the opposite direction.  The men orbited the stacked sluts in the chain web. The scene mimicked some mean, mechanical planetarium.  Swaying red illuminations pushed the shadows away from the platform.

 

Nikita could not see much of stalkers.  But, she heard and felt another web closing on them - a web made of pain-snakes swishing and waving and cracking inches from their skin.

 

She got a glimpse of the Wolf's torso.  As his sleek muscles suddenly tightened, his arm jerked down.

 

Goaded by a doubled cracccckkk, the twins arched inwards.  Nikita felt toothpasted out of her corset, suspended in the breathless moment of blistering silence.  Then, the twins screamed in unison and shook her insides, simultaneously drenching her with sweat.

 

The whipsters continued their attacks, circling like lions with a view to a kill.  The cracks sometimes merged into fiery kisses.  Sometimes, they sounded like short, staccatoed probes, writing in red on the two-backed beast.

 

Nikita thought she will expire.  Intermingled sweat turned three punished bodies into a homogenous mass of ecstatic pain.  She absorbed the anguish of screaming waifs.  Woman-dew flew from their pussies as it dripped from her too.  She felt Cat's pelvis on her inflamed crotch and Carleen's cunt desperately imprinting itself on her ass.  Somehow, they became one.

 

The circling Dance of Two Whip Shots and Three Slut Targets went on.  The whip masters plied their unerring trade on the aerial trio.  The incessant whipping goaded the three headed animal into new heights of howling ecstasy.

 

"Two hundred seventy three, two hundred seventy four - DOUBLESTRIKE!, two hundred seventy six...  "  The crowd chanted louder and louder,  their voracious voices crashing on the whipped slave girls like a pneumatic tsunami.  Riding the wave, were whip cracks and the shiatsu's excited yelping.

 

Nikita felt it all, the pain, the heat and the noise.  The bodies of Cat and Carleen did not absorb the whip blows.  The impacts were transferred into her body.  She FELT each scalding whip-blow.  She was drowning in the boiling well of the body-heat, screaming breaths and intermingled body fluids.  Nikita could taste mixed pussy juices in the sweat and saliva invading her screaming mouth.

 

She held on to one thought.  She experienced everything except the actual kiss of the whip.  The Wolf denied her that.  It was his gift.  Nikita let go of the thought and came.  She dervished within the press of two pain sluts, triggering their orgasms.  Wave upon wave of pain-cums was extracted by the pain ministers.

 

The bodies were confessing to high priests of the pain alchemy.

 

The Wolf and Generic were also sweating profusely.  The Wolf made one last circle, looking for yet another place to inscribe the red line.  Offered backs, asses and thighs were intricately crises-crossed with whip marks.

 

As he flung the whip away, Fido ran after the dripping, twisting morsel.  He knew that smell!

 

"The slut sandwich is toasted and burnt.  LET THEM DOWN!  THIS GAME IS OVER.  NEXT!" The Wolf declared. He whirled and grabbed champagne bottle from the nearest guest.

 

Sheik Generic made another swing but the Wolf moved cobra-like and grabbed his hand.

 

"It is OVER I said!"

 

Generic actually pouted.  He stopped but did not forget The Wolf’s intrusion. He will not let the sluts forget it, either.

 

Wolf jumped on the platform and pressed the remote.  The whole web started gliding down on the poles.  As soon as he could, he began checking the eyes and bodies of the whipees.  They were sailing the oceans of sub space with full sails.  The Wolf takes care of his property.

 

The inner voices that haunted him were silent, for the time being. It was a short time.

 

He looks at you, straight at you, smiles, then he wags his finger, "Do not try this at home, kids! Unless you have willing slut flesh and lots of practice!"

 

 

Acknowledgments:

 

 

Uniforms and incidental clothing:  Gautier

 

Leatherwear  Hugo Boss of Mexico

 

Camel wear: Galliano

 

Wolf attire: Good Grooming of Hong Kong (‘any label you want!’)

 

Nikita attire: Chicgeneric Designs

 

Makeup: Pat McGrath for Avon Slut-of-The-Day Line.

 

Kinkplane and Transportation: Generic Enterprises "We will get you there...willing or not!"

 

Toys: La Bomba

 

Whips: The Camel (For each one there is one less camel in the world!)

 

Special ‘sheik’ effects: Kinky Laurence at the Black Lodge

 

Special consultant for dream sequences: David Lynch

 

Seven legged goat conjured by Necronomicon Resources (Protection from beings from beyond provided by White. ‘I do not believe any of this SHIT!’ Lodge)

 

Fluids: Nasty Nik’s Never-ending Excessive Pipewerks.

 

Catholic girls provided by The Dogma "We fix them and they stay fixed!"

 

Fido trained by Naughty Nik

 

Music Angelo Badalementi and Lou Reed