BDSM Library - Thrilling Rape Fantasies

CHAPTER ONE

Alison returns to a modern office tower in a big city after running out to buy office supplies for her boss. It is becoming dusk, perhaps seven or eight o'clock in the evening, and she has been told that she will have to work late tonight to help prepare some big presentation for tomorrow. Her high-heeled footsteps echo in the half-darkened lobby as she crosses it to get into an empty elevator.

Before the doors can close a big muscular black guy dressed in a gangsta rap t shirt, baggy jeans and sneakers who appears to be a messenger arrives and gets into the elevator with her, glaring at her silently as the sexy young blonde unconsciously shrinks away into the back corner. His name is Leroy and he reeks of sweat and carries some sort of satchel. She, on the other hand, looks cool as a cucumber even in the smoldering august heat and moves in a waft of perfume… something light and floral.

Alison is one of those perfectly-groomed and immaculately made-up receptionist types you meet in the waiting rooms of large corporations. She is about twenty and obviously much impressed with the money and power and status of big business and the corporate lifestyle. Although she is very attractive and seemingly self-possessed, Alison has a secret. Deep down in her guts there is always a tight knot of anxiety, a kind of nameless dread and feeling of emptiness that nothing can ever seem to penetrate. Perhaps this is why she affects such an air of icy indifference and hauteur.

Although Alison doesn't realize it, not being gifted with much talent for introspection, she has built a wall around herself and her feelings that keeps her from being able to experience any real love or tenderness. To make up for this, she has experienced a long series of superficial relationships, picking up and discarding boyfriends as she quickly becomes bored and/or disappointed in them or their usefulness to her ends, never really knowing what it is she is looking for. Through it all she has remained coldly manipulative, using her sex and good looks as a weapon, a way of getting attention and achieving status.

Basically she is a shallow, vacuous and greedy bitch who confuses material possessions and status with inner happiness, being too fearful to open herself up to real feeling. Sometimes she wishes vaguely for a man who will be strong enough to somehow break through her defenses and rescue her from her self-imposed sense of isolation, but whenever she meets someone the same thing happens… the more they seem to like her and the nicer they treat her the more contemptuous she feels until it reaches a point where she can't stand to be around them any more.

Alison knows she's no intellectual… she'll never win the Nobel Prize or find the cure for cancer. Her tastes in reading are pretty much confined to fashion and celebrity magazines and lurid romance novels. The only purpose for her life she has been able to find so far has been to come to the big city, find herself a rich husband, and retire to devote the rest of her life to spending his money. The idea of having to care for children fills her with dread.

Maybe that's because her own family life was so fucked up. After her father's suicide when she was eight, her mother turned to Jesus, becoming more and more harshly puritanical and weird… As Alison flowered into graceful young womanhood, her mother's disapproval of her developing sexuality became more and more extreme. By the time she was nineteen and had graduated from secretarial school she couldn't wait to leave their barren household and look for a job and an apartment in the city.

Despite her mother's imprecations, Alison enjoys being feminine and is very much aware of the desire she arouses in men. On this muggy late summer evening she's wearing a light and sheer pink floral print dress, which ends around mid-thigh, and high-heeled strappy sandals with brightly painted toenails peeking out. Above her white thigh-high stockings her sheer high cut nylon panties cling damply to the extra-sensitive lips of her recently-shaved mound. The new bathing suit her roommate/girlfriend Fiona dared her to buy on their weekend shopping trip was so revealing that almost all her hair "down there" had to go.

Fiona is a petite, stacked little brunette with a sensual look. The very night before she had wound up tonguing Alison to orgasm after helping her shave her bikini line. The young blonde hadn't meant for that to happen… it must have been those couple of joints they smoked. They were certainly much stronger than anything she ever tried before… now she kind of wonders what was in them. Fiona seems kind of kinky and she appears to get a lot of presents from men. Sometimes at night when her roommate is entertaining a gentleman caller, Alison hears the sounds of flesh being struck and moaning and whimpering from the other room, but the other girl always seems perfectly serene the next morning, without visible marks or bruises, so she just turns up the volume on the TV and tries to ignore it. Still, the memory gives her a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach…

The fact is, her roommate is a shameless little slut who brings home a different thug every night and does IV drugs. If you look carefully you can see the lines of tracks along her pussy lips and on her inner thighs. But enough about her for now, except to say that she plans to help her goody-goody friend Alison to liberate herself from the constraints of conventional morality and that she keeps a fine collection of sexy underwear, corsets, and enema bags on hand. Not to mention handcuffs, whips and chains. Not that Alison is aware of any of this as yet.

Fiona works as a "personal assistant" to Mr. Slate, the CEO of the large construction and realty business where Alison has now taken a position as a receptionist. She befriended Alison when the girl first started working there a month ago and soon took the young blonde in as a roommate, offering her a very favorable deal on the rent and enabling her to get out of the stodgy ladies' hotel where she had been staying. They have a beautiful ultra-modern furnished apartment in a luxurious high-rise, all chrome and glass and with a nice view from the terrace, although the place is decorated like a whorehouse, rather overdone with lace and frills, mirrored ceilings, etc. Unbeknownst to Alison, the whole place is wired with concealed video cameras and actually belongs to Slate Industries. Already Mr. Slate has hundreds of hours of tape of the comely blonde undressing, going to the bathroom, bathing and even having occasional perfunctory sex with her latest boyfriend.

Alison is of medium height, about 5'4" but built very slender in the shoulders and joints, with maybe a 22 inch waist. She weighs in around 110 pounds. In spite of this her tits are nice and full, like maybe a 34D. They look even bigger on such a small frame. She has a butt like a thoroughbred race horse… high and firm but full and rounded. Her skin is pale translucent ivory, her long hair streaky ash blonde, and her oval face is at once innocent and aristocratic. In short, she's a walking Barbie doll and she knows it. Her make-up and nails are always immaculate, and she always looks refined and fresh as a daisy, even in this sweltering august heat. Long dangly earrings hang from her multiply-pierced ears, something else her kinky roommate talked her into doing on their trip to the mall. The two new studs she wears in each ear still hurt a little, but she has to admit there is something kind of exciting about the act of being pierced… something symbolic that makes her feel sexy when she thinks about it. Fiona already has a ring in her belly button… who knows what's next.

So anyway Alison knows she's a knockout and takes a certain pride in all the attention she gets from men, although sometimes it embarrasses or even scares her, like when the construction workers on the way to her office shout obscene remarks and suggestions at her. The sexy young blonde even has a new boyfriend, a young junior-accountant type named Tom, who also works for Slate Industries. A clean-cut young man who takes her out to dinners and shows and always treats her respectfully. She even lets him fuck her once a week or so, although sometimes she wishes he weren't so overeager and anxious to please. Maybe that's why sex with him is a little less passionate than she might like. She kind of thinks of him as a cute puppy dog. Sometimes she wishes he were more like her boss, Mr. Slate.

Mr. Slate is a kind of well-fed shark who walks with an air of determination and authority and is known to be very demanding. You can just feel the aggression oozing from his pores. Alison has seen him to be ruthless, even cruel, in his business dealings and his handling of subordinates, but that doesn't bother her. The little cutie lives in awe of her boss, who she actually has kind of a secret crush on. As a matter of fact, lately she's been wearing sexier outfits to the office, hoping that this sleekly mature and sophisticated man will notice her. As if someone as important as he would even take the time to talk to an insignificant little receptionist. She envisions him taking her out to a fancy dinner in an elegant limousine. She gets goosebumps imagining him kissing her. The hot-looking blonde rationalizes this by thinking that she's just trying to advance her career, and her roommate seems to encourage her. So anyway, Alison has gone out of her way to wear something enticing today both to impress her boss and because she has a date with her boyfriend after work. She thinks her plan is working, because she noticed Mr. Slate giving her the once-over as she sat in front of him in his office earlier this afternoon flirtatiously crossing and uncrossing her long legs as he gave her instructions. His unwaveringly appraising stare finally forced her to look away, blushing.

Dorian Slate, born Domenico Spalluto, is the son of Sicilian immigrants who grew up in the East Bronx, where his father was a typical hard-working stonemason. Although not actually a made member of the mafia, Slate is as they say connected, through his father's pals in the corrupt building trades unions and his own friends and partners in various crimes and hustles he was involved in when he was just another tough guinea growing up in the neighborhood. He has used his connections and his own scheming driving ambition to carve out a prominent niche in the big city real estate and construction business. The construction company is just one of many mob-influenced ventures… he's got his fingers in a lot of pies. Nightclubs, concrete and building materials, labor racketeering, drugs… One look at his face and you can tell instantly that he would not hesitate to kill anyone that got in his way. He is a guy who has fought and clawed his way to the top of the heap with a combination of ruthlessness and cunning, and knows where a few bodies are buried along the way. Although he is very smooth, capable of appearing relaxed and genial, he has the flat black eyes and thousand-yard stare of a professional assassin. Alison thinks of it as a penetrating gaze. His coldly superior demeanor makes her feel uncharacteristically self-conscious in his presence. Sometimes she feels as though he can see right through her clothes, leaving the usually self-possessed young woman feeling awkwardly naked and defenseless. A not entirely unpleasant sensation, given her feelings for the darkly handsome older man.

Right now, as she stands towards the back of the elevator, the lovely blonde wishes that her little nippies didn't jut quite so provocatively against the flimsy fabric of her summer dress. Just thinking of them seems to make them harden involuntarily. She holds the package she is carrying up in front of herself protectively.

Reflexively straightening herself up and trying to look composed, the young lady stares at the ceiling, the floor, anyplace but at the big sweaty muscular black guy standing two feet in front of her. He glares at her insolently and she feels his eyes unabashedly ogling her as he licks his big slobbery lips and suggestively rubs his crotch. She stares icily into space. He turns and pushes the button for the twenty-third floor and Alison's heart sinks. They are both going to the same place. She had hoped he would be getting out before her.

Alison wishes someone else would show up to break the tension, but no one does and finally the elevator doors slide silently shut. She studies the guy's face surreptitiously in the circular mirror over their heads, noting the long jagged scar running down his cheek, probably a souvenir of some back-alley knife fight. At the corner of his left eye are two blue tears, tattooed there in memory of fellow gang members killed in a drive-by. At least now the elevator is finally moving. It goes up fifteen or twenty stories or so, then suddenly grinds to a stop in between floors with a lurch that throws them both to the floor together. He lands on top of her on the floor of the elevator, scattering her packages around. She is uncomfortably aware of his knee pressed between her thighs against her belly where her dress has ridden up, and of his crushing weight on top of her and his hot breath in her face.

For a few seconds, nobody moves. Gradually, the pretty blonde realizes that instead of getting off of her he is in fact rubbing his crotch against her and she feels his massive dick beginning to get hard.

Grimacing in fear and disgust, she rakes his face with her polished pink fingernails and tries to struggle to her feet and make a lunge for the alarm button. She pushes it and…. Nothing happens! She feels a meaty hand on her shoulder, spinning her around and… WHAMMO!

Alison falls to the ground, seeing stars. He has cuffed her hard upside the head, stunning her. Tears spring to her eyes as her lips start trembling uncontrollably. No one has ever hit her like this before and she reacts like a little girl. Alison realizes that maybe she made a big mistake getting physical with this guy. A guy who has no inhibitions about hitting women, not some love-sick teenager in the back of a car. A guy to whom violence comes as naturally as breathing.

He stands over her breathing hard, his dark eyes snappy with hate. A thin trickle of blood runs down his cheek where she clawed him. "Mutha fuggin bitch… you shouldn't oughta done that." He quickly squats down on top of her, pinning her to the floor as he pulls a long blade from out of his pants pocket and snaps it open in front of her. "Now you gots to shut the fuck up and do what I say, or I'll have to cut out one of those pretty blue eyes… you got that, you snotty little twat?" He runs the sharp tip of the blade over her soft downy cheek, making her tremble. She nods silently, still blubbering. He picks up the package she had dropped on the floor of the elevator. Inside, along with some staples and other office shit, he finds a couple rolls of package sealing tape. Just what he needs. He grabs her slender wrists and tapes them together in front of her, winding the tape around and around four or five times good and tight, then bringing a loop up in between and tying it off so there's no wiggle room.

At this point, Alison realizes that she is probably going to be raped, if not worse. Starting to recover her wits, she pleads with him not to tie her, telling him she'll cooperate if he just doesn't hurt her any more, etc. He slaps her in the face, giving her a fat lip. "You don't lissen too good… Didn't I just tell you to shut the fuck up? One more word and I'll tape your fucking mouth shut." Now that he has her hands securely bound, he roughly hoists the girl to her feet and stands her up in the center of the elevator, raising her hands up over her head. Alison struggles to keep silent as he takes more tape and fastens her wrists to the light fixture over her head, pulling it so tightly so that she has to rise up on tiptoes. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he likes the way this position makes her breasts thrust forward and her back arch slightly. She too notices the way her magnificent tits are thrusting against the thin fabric of her dress as if begging for attention. Her throat is knotted with fear and anguish. "Dass better…" he says, "Gots to keep you bitches under control." He grabs her full thrusting boobs and mauls them savagely as she hangs there, making her writhe and gasp. Not content with this, he thrusts his big hard hand down between her legs, roughly squeezing and fondling her warm damp softness through the sheer fabric of her silky panties. The terrified blonde shrieks and tries to squeeze her legs together, but a single fierce look from her tormentor convinces her to give it up. She hangs there limply, her knees shaking so badly she can hardly stand as he toys with her, keeping up a chorus of invective all the while. "Mutha fuggin hot bitch twat… snotty ass fuckin cunt…" etc. etc.

After a minute or two he gets bored with feeling her up, picks up her handbag and empties it out on the floor of the elevator. All her personal stuff is laid out there. First he cleans out her purse, taking all the money and credit cards and learning her name, address and phone number. "It sez here youse a receptionist, huh baby? Thass great cause you gonna give a nice reception to this here big black dick." In a separate little zippered pouch he finds her diaphragm and jelly kit, along with some condoms, cute colored ones with ribs and shit. The sexy young blonde burns with humiliation as he inspects these items. "Planning on getting fucked tonight, were you, sweet cheeks? Good thing you remembered to pack some lube… It'll make it easier getting my Jim Johnson up your little pink asshole. I fucked me some faggots up there in the joint, but now I gots me some fine tight bitch ass."

When Alison hears this she totally panics and starts begging him again; " Please don't do that I'll do anything you'll kill me I never did that before I couldn't stand it" etc. etc. "Didn't I just tell you to shut the fuck up?!!" he screams. "So far I only told you to do one thing and you can't even do that!" He comes toward her with the knife in his hand. At this point the bound blonde loses it completely and wets herself in fear. The warm urine runs down her stockinged legs and forms a puddle on the floor. "Fucking bitch you pissed youself!" he laughs as she whimpers in shame. "I ain't gonna cut you… at least not yet." He takes the knife and deftly slits the shoulder straps of her dress and bra. The girl's full rounded breasts spring free as he rips them off and tramples them on the urine-soaked floor. As he bends down and pulls her panties down and off she starts struggling and kicking. Another mistake. "Fuckin bitch you just don't get it!" he growls. "Now I'm gonna have to whip your ass!" He grabs her cunt through the piss-soaked panties and pulls and twists on her pussy lips until she whimpers in submission. "Don't make me hurt you, bitch… this up till now was just fun and games."

Pulling the urine-soaked panties off her legs and wadding them up in his hand he forces them between her full bright pink lips and into her mouth as she gasps for breath, tears running down her cheeks. He then takes some more tape and wraps it around her face, stuffing them in there tightly. Now she'll shut up. Alison now hangs there effectively bound and gagged, reduced to making little meeping noises through her nose and tasting the salty tang of her own piss in her mouth. Never in her life has she felt so completely helpless. She pants for breath, her nostrils flaring. Now Leroy can examine her naked cunt at leisure. He squats down and sticks his face in there, forcing her legs apart with his powerful arms and shoulders, admiring the smoothness of her freshly shaved pussy lips. Just a little tuft of hair is left above her mound. With surprising gentleness he strokes her, working a finger up between her inner lips to fondle her clit. The sexy blonde secretary gasps as electrifying messages run up her spine and make her buck her hips involuntarily. "Like that, huh?" he sneers. He teases her clit like that for a few minutes, gradually working a finger, then two inside her as her pussy begins to moisten itself defensively. When he's got her good and juicy, he takes another finger and slowly starts corkscrewing it up into her tight and hairless pink rectum. Alison writhes in her bondage, totally controlled by the fingers impaling her from beneath, now wearing only her stockings and high heels. She is mortified to realize that she is lubricating herself for him, his thick bony fingers squelching in and out of her more and more easily now… Not since she was a little girl has anything invaded her backside, and the sensation brings back childlike feelings of dependence and submission, unwanted in this new context. She tries to shake it off, to get herself together mentally. After a moment, her tormentor realizes that she is no longer responding to him and stands up again.

"Bitch, you be havin too much fun." He says. "I done promised you a whippin and now you gonna get it." He takes some more tape and wraps it around her trim ankles, binding them tightly. "Now try to kick…" he says. She hangs there totally immobilized as he steps back and pulls his wide black leather belt from his pants. He doubles it up and cracks it on his hand a few times with a loud smack. Just the sound of it makes the tearful blonde shake in terror. Without further ado, he lays into her backside with the heavy belt using all the strength in his muscular arm, leaving wide red welts across the cheeks of her girlish ass, which jiggles and wiggles under the pounding like jelly on a plate. After the second or third blow, Alison lets go and just starts screaming helplessly into the gag. For the young lady the next few minutes seem endless… an endless world of burning pain and punishment that goes on and on and on. When her whole butt is flaming red, with a few darkish purple streaks, he turns her around and goes to work on the front of her thighs.

By the time he is done, throwing the belt aside, Alison is a sobbing limp rag doll, all thoughts of resistance totally driven from her mind. At this point, the only thing she cares about is pleasing this evil black bastard so he doesn't beat her any more. He holds her chin in his hand, looking into her tear-streaked face as black streaks of mascara run down her cheeks. "I don't think I'm gonna have any more trouble from you now, am I, you uppity little twat?" The girl shakes her head no. "You wanna blow me?" he asks her. She nods vociferously… anything as long as he stops whipping her. "Well, you'll get your chance." He says, "But first we gonna have us a little party."

Going into his messenger bag, he pulls out a small glass vial with a tiny spoon attached, full of a sparkling white powder. First he does a couple of toots himself, peeling off his jeans in between snorts, his eyes lighting up with fiendish excitement as the powerful drugs take hold. It's a special blend of stimulants and hypnotics… something similar to extasy or MDNA. His cock springs forth in all its glory, a good twelve inches long and as thick as Alison's slender wrist, getting harder by the minute. He jerks on it a little, rubbing it on her welts, smacking it against her tender backside. He reaches up and peels the tape from the blonde's face, finally allowing her to spit out the piss-soaked panties. "You done sucked all the juice out of these motherfuckers…" he grins as she lowers her eyes in shame. At least now she can breathe. "You ain't gonna make no more fuss, now, is you?" She shakes her head to say no, afraid to speak. "Here take a couple hits of this here shit…" he says, holding a spoonful of stuff up to her nose. "You ain't gonna refuse my hospitality now, is you? You want me to go get my belt?" The lovely blonde realizes that she has no choice but to take the drugs. Obediently, she closes her eyes and sniffs hard, the white powder disappearing up her nose.

The first jolt hits her like an electric shock, burning into the back of her brain and numbing the pain of her whipped ass and her tortured arms and shoulders. The second spoonful makes her heart pound in her chest while sending a warm soothing rush up and down her spine, making her suddenly relax in her bonds, her terror strangely undercut now by a growing excitement. The third hit seems to go directly to her clit, making it ache and stand up at attention as she suddenly realizes once again her naked helplessness and the fact that she is about to be brutally raped. She turns the word over in her mind, staring with mixed emotions at the big black cock in front of her. Now she wishes that Leroy would untie her legs. Her head is swimming and she's stoned out of her mind, her mouth open as she breathes heavily, feeling an aching fullness in her belly and a restless tingling in her clit… the need for orgasm. Now she finds herself wishing he would touch her there again. Passively she watches him pull the tape from her ankles. Alison gasps as he stands up to kiss her, opening her mouth to let him stick his tongue down her throat and moaning as he fondles her hairless pussy with his big hands. Could she actually be enjoying this? She feels her own inner wetness, her whole body trembling with need. Somehow the fear that knots in her belly only makes it more deliciously exciting for her… She thinks vaguely that she must be out of her mind. Somehow the anger and resentment she should be feeling at this treatment has been swept aside in a rising tide of… she knows not what. But now is not the time for shame and guilt… that would come later. Right now Leroy is cutting her down from the light fixture, forcing her to kneel in front of him with her wrists still tied. She knows without being told what he wants her to do next.

"Bite me and I'll knock your fuckin teeth out." He sez, holding her bound wrists up over her head with one hand and grabbing a fistful of her hair with the other. But she has no intention of biting him. Instead she licks and sucks his big black dick like a little kitten with a bowl of milk. Her tongue dances around in little circles on the underside of his mammoth manthing. Wet slurping sounds fill the elevator, along with his guttural grunts of satisfaction. Not satisfied with that kind of action, he forces more and more of his thick purplish fuckrod down her throat till her eyes are bulging and she's choking on it. She can barely stretch her lips around his thickness. Alison leans forward into it to straighten her gullet, allowing him to fuck her face, his hairy black nuts bouncing off her dimpled chin. Tears are once again streaming down her face as she gags repeatedly. This close, his cock seems even bigger than it did before, the veins standing out like ropes all over it. Does he have to be so rough? Doesn't he understand that she was trying to please him?

Meanwhile, downstairs at the security desk, Manuel the night guard is watching all of this on his closed-circuit TV monitor and drinking a cerveza. Far from being unaware of what is going on in the stalled elevator, it now appears as if all this is some sort of conspiracy of which he is but a small part. He gets on the phone to Mr. Slate in his private office upstairs, who is also observing the action on his own monitor as he sits behind his massive mahogany desk, sipping a Glenlivet. Fiona is bent over the desk to one side of him panting, her eyes fixed on the screen and her panties down around her knees as he idly toys with her twat. The security guy asks him if everything is going according to plan. Slate replies that Leroy should get a bonus for this performance. Meanwhile, a VCR whirrs in the background, taping the whole unfolding drama for future use. Manuel gets off the phone with his boss and calls in a few of his buddies from the maintenance crew to come watch the show with him and bring some more beer. Then he goes and hangs an OUT OF ORDER sign on the elevator door.

Meanwhile, back in the elevator, Leroy is getting bored with fucking Alison's face. He orders her to hum "I'm In The Mood For Love" as he slams his gristly black meat down her throat and she squirms in humiliation. "Louder, bitch!" he screams. Finally pulling out of her mouth, he slaps her across the face a few times with his super hard dick as the young woman kneels in front of him panting for breath, drool running down her chin. He finally drops her hands and picks up his little vial again, force-feeding her a couple of more hits until she looks totally spaced-out once again. He does a couple of snorts himself, getting himself good and charged up before he forces her down onto her back right in the puddle of piss there on the floor. He kneels there between the sexy blonde's legs, holding her arms up over her head with one hand and forcing her legs apart with his knees. He runs the head of his purplish organ up and down between her moist pussy lips, teasing her little love button with it and making her squirm. She is gasping and making little ih ih ih noises, her eyes closed as she reflexively spreads her legs wider, opening herself for him. He admires the contrast between the black hairiness of his cock and the pale pinkness of her shaved and extra sensitive pussy lips. He shifts position, reaching for his knife.

Alison's eyes pop open in alarm as she feels the cold steel of the switchblade laid against her, lightly working between her inner lips… "Keep those hands up over your head, bitch, or I'll have to cut you a new fuckin hole." He commands her. Mute with terror, Alison obeys. She whimpers and tries to hold very still as he toys with her, working the point of the blade slightly into her vagina and lightly stabbing her exposed clit with it again and again. The sexy blonde secretary bites her lip and winces, doing her best not to squirm. Finally, a tiny drop of blood appears. Her little man-in-the-boat is red and sore, but somehow the fear which consumes her just makes it perk up higher. She hates her body for betraying her like this but rationalizes that none of this is her fault and since she's tightly tied it's useless to try to struggle. Finally he lays the blade aside, repositioning himself between her legs with his apple-sized dickhead at her inner labia, spreading them wide. He lets it rest there a moment as she stares up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, abjectly waiting to be penetrated. For Alison, there's something in the sensation of being bound and helpless that makes her feel strangely free. She doesn't understand it, but never in her life has she felt more tinglingly alive and eagerly responsive to a man's touch.

With one savage thrust he buries about half of his throbbing foot-long unit in her tight little twat. She grunts loudly, her inner walls stretched to the limit by his massive thickness. In spite of the fact that she is by now well lubricated, her inner thighs damp with her secretions, it is all he can do to force it in there. Good thing force is one thing he's got plenty of. Alison's eyes close tightly as she grimaces, her lips trembling. Her hips shift as she tries to make room for this burning intruder, taking more of her weight on the small of her back, lifting her knees higher and wider to ease the uncomfortable stretching of her delicate membranes. Leroy forces her to open her eyes and look down at herself being penetrated, as he points out to her horror that there's still half his shaft to go. Already he is touching her in places where she's never been touched before. The young blonde's head is swimming in a mix of pain and pleasure, desire and revulsion as she silently thanks god for the drugs that seem to help her find it all bearable, perhaps even exciting in a strange new way.

Leroy pulls back slightly, then with a sadistic grin slams another couple of inches inside her. Alison can feel the head of his king sized dick bumping up against her dimpled cervix, and there's still plenty more to go. Again and again he slams his hips into her, forcing inch after inch of his cock in there, and she can feel him pushing aside her internal organs, stretching her inner walls until she thinks she is going to burst. She fears that he will kill her with his cock… rip her open inside. Fortunately, she has underestimated the elasticity of her internal membranes. Leroy grunts with effort as he finally stuffs his burning black unit in there to the hilt, and his belly meets her upturned pudendum with a smack. The luscious babe's eyes are rolling around in her head and she feels like she is going to faint. Her knees are all the way up to her shoulders, her feet in the air.

Once he's finally got it jammed all the way in there, he stays there a minute, grinding his belly against her hairless and barbarically stretched vulva, sending lightning bolts up her spine from her sore and throbbing clit. She moans in pleasure and pain, unsure which sensation is more intense. Then slowly he pulls back and rams himself back into her with one powerful thrust. Her eyes bulge and she gasps for breath as he starts fucking her in earnest now, sliding in and out a little more easily each time as her hardly-used vaginal walls stretch to accommodate him. "Now youse givin me a good reception…" he smirks as he pounds her faster and harder, using the full length of his dick. Wet smacking and squelching noises fill the air and mingle with her gasps, moans and whimpers and his bestial grunts. Alison closes her eyes, unable to meet his evil, leering gaze as he stares down at her, taunting her. "Yeah, you dig this kind of action, don't you, babycakes? You silly little fuckin cunt…" He bends his head down and bites down on one of her bright pink nipples, then the other, grinding them between his teeth until she thinks he's going to tear it off. The girl writhes and shudders as she tightens up around him, her inner pussy muscles working spasmodically now. He slaps her face, demanding an answer. "No… No… Nooo!" she cries but her mind and body are totally consumed with the feeling of his humongous dominating dick slamming inside her. Her words trail off to a shrill shriek as her body goes rigid and she clamps down on him like a vise, snapping off the first of many orgasms to come. Even Leroy is momentarily surprised as his dick is wrung so tightly that he can't even move it and the sobbing Alison humps herself up and down on his massive tool. She doesn't look so cool now. Her tear-stained face is twisted up in a grimace, her eyes tightly shut and her mouth hanging open, the veins on her neck all popping out.

"Beg me for it, you hot little slut!" he demands as her first orgasm fades and she relaxes momentarily around him, faint tremors still shooting through her like echoes, her legs lowering a bit. "Look me in the eye and beg for it…" he orders her again, raising his hand threateningly. Her eyelashes flutter open and she looks up at his ugly fiendish black face with total docility, his cock still embedded to the hilt in her twitching ivory white mound. "Please…" she says, "Please fuck me… fuck me… fuck me…" Never before in her life has she said those words and she rolls them around in her mind… "Fuck me hard… don't stop just fuck me fuck me fuck meeeee…." Just saying the words sets her off on the way to another cum as Leroy starts pounding harder and harder into her spasming twat.

"Fuck me fuck me fuck me…" she repeats. "Please, please, please…" she pleads with him submissively. The more Alison begs him the harder he rams her, using all the force in his muscular two-hundred-pound body. SMACK SMACK SMACK his loins bounce off her wetly upturned cunt, her high heeled sandals up around her ears now as she tilts her hips up to receive him and gasps out the words in rhythm with his thrusts. One orgasm after another rips through her as her pumping pussy milks delightfully on his huge organ. Leroy lets loose with a stream of obscenities as he feels himself about to loose his load. "MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING SHITEATING SONOFABITCH" he screams as jet after jet of white hot semen erupts from his hairy balls and splashes against the backwall of the deepest part of little Alison's twitching snatch. When she feels the burning heat of his slimy come spurting inside her, her whole body shakes convulsively in the throes of her biggest come yet, her eyes rolling up into her head as she falls into a faint, finally limp as a rag doll.

Slowly, Leroy rolls off her and sits up, happy with his handiwork. So far so good. This little twist wasn't so hard to tame. Still there's more work to be done. He pulls out his little vial and does another few snorts, recharging his batteries for what's to come. He still has an ass to fuck. Alison takes a little nap, completely unaware of the twisted plans hatching in Leroy's mind like active worms. Once he's got himself good and charged up again, Leroy takes the still dazed girl and rolls her over, ret aping her hands behind her back. The cute blonde begins to wake up, protesting groggily. Before she can say more than a few words or shake off her lethargy, he stuffs the soiled panties back in her mouth and tapes them firmly in there. Alison starts coming out of it fast now, realizing that he's not done with her yet. Her whole body feels bruised and battered, exhausted and wrung out. Emotionally she's drained and overcome with shame and mortification over what's happened to her over the last hour or so. Leroy lifts the feebly protesting girl to her feet and quickly refastens her bound wrists to the light fixture over their heads, so that she is forced to bend over at the waist with her hands up in the air behind her. Alison sways back and forth unsteadily on her still rubbery legs, struggling for balance. She can't move a muscle without ripping her shoulders out of their sockets, but it's not too painful as long as she stands perfectly still. Once again she is totally helpless. She looks at him pleadingly, begging him not to hurt her any more. Her stockings are laddered, her hair disheveled, her makeup smeared. For all that she still looks tempting, and Leroy feels his hairy black nuts begin to tighten at the thought of what he's going to do to her.

Stepping behind her, he runs his hands over the softness of her girlish ass cheeks as they quiver beneath his fingers, admiring the contrast between the paleness of her flesh and the welts his belt has left there. "MMF! MMF!" is all the protest Alison can make. He runs his hand up and down in the crack between them, kicking her legs apart to open her buttocks. "Yup, dis sure is one fine white butt…" he tells her as he kneads and squeezes it with increasing ferocity, bringing to life the marks he has left on her. The sexy secretary whimpers and shifts her weight from foot to foot but there's nothing she can do to escape this humiliating inspection. "You know what I'm gonna do now, dontcha? I'm gonna fuck you up your lily white ass!"

Alison shakes her head vehemently from side to side, her eyes opening wide in alarm. She hoped he had forgotten about all that. She certainly had. "Don't worry, cupcake…" he tells her, "I'se gonna warm you up a little first." He walks around in front of her, once again filling up a spoonful of the sparkling powdered dynamite and lifting it up under her nose… "The thing about ass fuckin' is you gots to relax." He explains… "This here shit is ganna help ya get in the mood. Now g'wan and take yer medicine like a good girl…" The luscious young girl shakes her head again violently, causing him to spill the little spoonful of drugs on the floor. No way is she taking more of that shit voluntarily. She's had enough for one day… Now that she's come back to her senses, she is overcome with shame and disgust, and just wants this ordeal to be over already…

This really pisses Leroy off. "Now look what you done you stupid cunt! I thought we had us an understanding… I gives the orders and you fuckin' do it! It looks like you need a little reminder who's the fuckin boss around here!" He angrily marches around to her backside, picking up his belt from the elevator floor where he had tossed it aside. Grabbing her around the waist with his left arm to hold her steady, he lays into her hard with the strap again, crisscrossing the welts already there with fresh set of stripes. He doesn't stop until her whole behind is once more a flaming red color and she hangs there sniveling and sobbing into her gag, a fresh cascade of tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Thass better…" he pronounces in satisfaction… "You gives me any more trouble and I's gonna carve my initials in your ass. Bitch I done give you your chance… if you won't take it in one end then you'll have to take it in the other." Reaching down between her legs from behind, he cups her twat in his hand. It is still wet with a mixture of her own secretions and his come which is oozing out of her and running down her leg. He takes this goo and rubs it around a little, working a couple of fingers into her vagina, than smearing some more on the pink button of her anus, which he prods and pokes with a thick forefinger. Taking his now wet finger away from the girl's crack, he dips it into the white powder from the vial and rubs it up between her labia, teasing her little pink pearl back into life, massaging it into her mucous membranes. Alison feels a spreading tingling and a glowing warmth start to flower between her legs, a warmth that soothes away the aching soreness in her tortured clit but still leaves it exquisitely sensitive and standing up at attention once more… Her breath catches in her throat as he takes two fingers and rams some more of the stuff up her aching twat, rubbing it around inside her. The feeling of glowing warmth spreads deeper, filling her belly and working its way up to her brain from within, narcotizing the girl's terror and disgust while leaving her nerve endings tingling. Dipping his forefinger wet with her juices once more into the drug, he massages some more of the stuff onto her coral-colored anal dot, meanwhile keeping two other fingers buried inside her cunt, holding her immobile. Alison hangs there slackly, making little squeaking noises as he slowly works his forefinger up her tight little pucker until he has an inch or so of it buried in there. He wiggles his finger around as her sphincter slowly loosens up for him and the warm tingling starts to spread up her ass.

"Yer tighter than a fuckin chicken up there…" he gloats, "This is gonna be good!" He thrusts his finger again into her cunt, coating it with slimy secretions, them smearing them around her pouting pink asshole. Dipping his finger into the powder once again, he shoves it as far as it will go up her loosening rear entrance, working it around inside her in and out, rubbing it into her squishy internal membranes, now slick with her own juices and anal mucosa. Again and again he repeats this procedure, working more drugs into he young blonde's defenseless rectum until he penetrates her smoothly and easily, without pain or resistance. Wet squishing sounds fill the air, interspersed with Leroy's heavy breathing and little meeps and squeaks from Alison. She is past thinking about anything now, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open slackly, aware only of the sensation of his fingers so high up in her ass and pussy spreading liquid warmth deep inside her, controlling her totally. Her vagina and asshole milk submissively on the hard bony fingers impaling her… its nice, so nice to hang there like a piece of meat while a sadistic black rapist shoves powerful narcotics up her ass… A feeling of relaxed contentment suffuses the innocent-looking little cutie, shot through with bolts of excitement that coil in her belly, building. Her whole being is now concentrated right there at the opening to her behind as he pushes another finger inside her, stretching her, working further up inside her until it's buried up to the knuckles. She pushes back against them, feeling a craving somewhere deep inside her somewhere deeper, deeper than his fingers can reach. Totally forgotten now are the pain of her savage whipping, the ache in her arms and shoulders, the rawness of her well-fucked cunt. Never in her wildest imaginings did she think she could feel so good… so totally feminine and receptive. Even the slightly painful stretching sensation in her anus seems to blend perfectly with the ache of desire deep inside her.

Meanwhile, down in the security office, Manuel and a few of his cronies from the maintenance crew are gathered around the TV monitor enjoying the show and keeping up a running commentary. They're a bunch of blue-collar motherfuckers, and there's not one of them that wouldn't like to be in Leroy's place. They pass a few joints around and swill their beer, happy to see one of these snotty little office twats get hers, knowing that this is as close as they will probably ever get. Upstairs in Slate's office, Fiona is now stretched out face-down over the boss' desk as Slate works a large butt plug up her well-fleshed ass while sipping his single-malt scotch and watching the monitor impassively.

Back in the elevator, Leroy pulls his fingers out of Alison with an audible pop. Suddenly she feels empty, but not for long. Grabbing the girl's diaphragm jelly from the floor, he unscrews the cap and squeezes out a large dollop onto her quivering anal pore, stuffing it inside her with his finger. Then he takes another blob of goo and smears it over his rampant erection, jerking on it for a few seconds to make sure it's at maximum hardness. Then stepping up behind her, he lays it between the blonde's buttocks with a meaty thwack. It reaches up to the small of her back. Leroy lets her feel the length of it for a minute, imagining just how far up inside her it will go. Then, fisting his throbbing member in one hand, he slides it down her crack till it comes to rest at her puckered rear entrance. Looking down at himself, it seems for a moment impossible that her could force such a large object into such a tiny hole. Reaching around her hips with his other hand, he insinuates a finger between her pussy lips to stroke her clit. When he does this, Alison involuntarily rises up on her toes, pushing her backside against him. As he feels the warmth of her sensitive anal passage against the head of his dick, he is seized by a savage determination.

Pulling her tightly against him with his other hand, he shoves with a steadily mounting pressure, prying her open till the head of his throbbing unit is wedged tightly inside her opening. The hot clinging wetness of he inner membranes on his knob almost makes him swoon. Pulling back slightly, he lunges with all his strength and the head of his shaft pops inside her straining sphincter to the softness within. He feels like his dick is being squeezed by a powerful fist. Alison's eyes pop wide open and a fresh cascade of tears pours down her cheeks as she shrieks into her gag. "Easy, baby… easy…" he tells her. "The hard part is over." He goes back to stroking her clit as the luscious blonde gradually relaxes and adjusts to his incredible thickness, still whimpering and sniveling, sure that he has ripped her open back there. Her hairless pink rectum is stretched tight as a bowstring around him. As soon as the convulsive clenching of her sphincter muscles eases a bit, Leroy rams another couple of inches inside her. Alison sees flashes of light behind her tightly closed eyes, her nostrils flaring wildly. She's well and truly buggered now… there's no way she's gonna push him back out.

Again and again he pulls back a tiny bit, only to stuff another couple of inches up the girl's trembling rear, timing his thrusts to the stroking of her clit. The natural peristaltic action of her insides trying to expel this burning intrusion caresses his shaft delightfully. Alison moves her hips in little circles, trying to ease the terrible pressure she feels within, but this just causes him to sink deeper and deeper as she feels her inner walls straightening and stretching to make way for him. Strangely, the deeper he pushes within her the less she feels the pain of the initial penetration. Inexorably he shoves aside her internal organs, causing her to feel sick to her stomach as he finally sinks his manmeat to the hilt inside her churning ass guts. Never in her short life has Alison felt so totally stuffed with hot cockmeat. Her eyes are bulging out of her head. Her ruined sphincter has finally given up its struggle and eased its grip, allowing him more freedom of movement. He rests there for a moment, not moving, savoring the sensation of her inner bowels throbbing and clenching around his shaft. "Now I got you where I want you, you foxy little slut…"

Gradually, Alison's body relaxes again as she accustoms herself to the trauma of being sodomized for the first time and the drugs swimming through her blood stream begin to take hold of her mind again, blotting out the pain she feels inside. She is sure he has opened wounds inside her with his rampaging cock, but somehow the ache is fading, merging with a delicious feeling of fullness and a wild crazy excitement. Leroy strokes her clit again and she can't keep herself from moaning through her tears, pressing herself against his hand. "Dass better, baby… You gonna love dis…" Slowly he pulls back out of her until only a few inches are left inside. She feels like he's going to drag her ass guts out with him, turning her inside out. Her coral-colored anal membranes are pulled in and out, clinging to him. Gradually, smoothly he forces his hefty tool back into her depths to he root, giving her the full length of it now inch by inch as the girl's pussy pulsates madly in his grip. He goes at her again, more forcefully this time, as bit by bit she opens herself for him, rising up on her toes to straighten her back passage, wiggling her ivory white buttocks against his hairy black belly, straining against the tape that binds her. "Yeah baby, you takin' it real sweet now…" He lets go of her clit to grab her by the hips, forcing her down on it as he fucks her harder and faster now. Alison grunts and whinnies pathetically, reduced to a more-or-less mindless fucktoy.

SHTUCKA SHTUCKA SHTUCKA SHTUCKA he pounds into her ferociously, giving the curvy young babe the whole twelve inches on every thrust as she surrenders to him completely, totally violated, totally dominated. Her inner ass muscles spasm beserkly as a crushing orgasm flowers somewhere deep in her bowels. I'm coming up my ass… I'm coming up my ass… she marvels to herself, in a moment of lucidity. Am I some kind of masochist? He moves easily within her now, her adorable tush bucking and grinding against him. Faster and harder, faster and harder… SHTUCKASHTUCKASHTUCKASHTUCKASHTUCKA he gives it to her with everything he's got. Leroy's big black balls tighten as he holds her hips in a white-knuckled death grip, forcing her down harder on the root of his tool, grunting like a lust-crazed wart hog. His organ twitches insanely as it spurts hot jism deep inside her colon, bathing her insides with cum and whipping it into a froth. When she feels his hot come shooting up her ass, Alison sees rockets going off behind her eyes, her whole body shaking convulsively as she clamps down on his dick like a vise, mewling like a cat in heat. "Yeah, baby… I done told you ass fuckin is the best…" Leroy gloats as his cock slowly deflates within her, the girl's spasms subsiding till she hangs there limply, totally exhausted and spaced out. His now limp dick pops out of her with a plup, along with a gush of pinkish ass-goo. There's a crust of dried blood around lthe base of his cock, which drips with stinky slime.

Walking around to her face, Leroy rips the tape off her mouth and removes the stifling panty gag. Alison's mouth hangs open, panting. "You want me to cut you down now, bitch?" She nods her assent. "Then lick me clean!" he demands. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Alison nevertheless sets to work, licking and slurping on his slimy fuckrod as he shoves it into her mouth, ever mindful of the knife he holds in his hand and the welts on her tender tush. Mortified beyond belief, she wonders how she'll ever be able to look at herself in the mirror again. Every part of her body aches, and a dark-brown taste lingers in the back of her throat as the little cutie licks her own crusted blood and shit from the base of his dick. Finally, when his flaccid unit is shining clean and wet with her spittle, he pulls back and tucks it into his pants. "Good job, bitch… you're hired," he laughs. Then he reaches up with his knife and cuts the tape that fastens her to the light fixture. The young woman collapses in a heap on the dirty floor, her wrists still taped together behind her. Taking a magic marker from out of his bag, he scrawls LEROY WAS HERE across her lacerated butt cheeks, then packs up his stuff, getting ready to leave.

A few moments later, the elevator lurches to life with a jerk, heading back down to the ground floor. "Remember, I know your name and where you live, sweetcakes…" Leroy reminds the half-conscious girl. "Don' you be sayin nuthin to the cops, or I'll have to send some of my homies to come visit you again…" Actually at this moment, calling the police is the last thing on Alison's mind. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open into the darkened and deserted lobby. It is now getting quite late. "See ya… wouldn't want to be ya…" he sez, jauntily sauntering out the door and into the hot August night.

Alison huddles there on the filthy floor, waiting a few minutes to make sure he's really gone. She's too exhausted to even scream. "Help me…" she croaks weakly, "Oh God somebody please help me…" Upstairs in his office suite, Dorian Slate smiles in grim satisfaction, zipping up his pants. "You better get down there and take her home…" he tells Fiona, who is straightening out her clothing as she licks his come from her lips. "Show's over."

Manuel the security guy is the first to arrive on the scene, closely followed by a couple of his mop-swinging pals. 'Jeeze, lady… what happened?" he asks her, oozing fake solicitousness and concern. "We had some kind of a power failure… were you stuck in the elevator all this time? Did somebody do something to you?" He pulls the tape from her wrists, finally freeing her hands, and helps her to sit up in a corner of the elevator, still half naked. She does her best to cover herself with the ripped and trampled remains of her dress as he shoos his ogling, smirking compadres away. "G'wan, geddadahere ya bums… can't ya see this lady's been molested?" Alison tells him to call upstairs and get help. Fiona and Mr. Slate are already on their way. Manuel asks her if he should call the police, or an ambulance. The battered blonde thinks about it for a moment, but the idea of having to tell her story to a bunch of leering detectives is not very appealing. She feels unimaginably disgusted and degraded, and just wants to get away, far far away. Besides, what are the chances they would ever catch the guy? Even if they did she doubts if she could testify against him in court. Having to relive the whole experience over and over again would be just too much… Not to mention what would happen if the newspapers got ahold of it, printed her picture, etc.etc. She would never be able to live it down. No thanks. "Just get me home…" she asks.

Fiona shows up with Slate right behind her, covering

Alison with a raincoat, scooping up her belongings and stuffing them back into her purse. Tom stands around in the background looking awkward. "Oh you poor baby, what happened? "We wondered why you were gone so long!" Fiona fusses. Slate makes a show of taking the security guy to task… "You call this security? Where are the back-up systems? Aren't these elevators supposed to have alarms and closed-circuit TV surveillance?" Manuel contritely explains to him that he didn't know there was anybody in there… He just thought the power went out. He called the elevator repairman, but you know those guys always take a couple of hours to get here, especially in the middle of the night. "I'll have your job for this, you incompetent slob!" Slate threatens the guy, all the while knowing that he himself told him to cut the wires and disable the systems just hours ago. Since Slate Management owns the building, it's all under his control. Meanwhile, Fiona is helping the unsteady Alison to her feet. She is shaking so violently that she can barely walk, her teeth chattering with post-traumatic stress. Slate tells them to take his limo, which is already waiting outside with his stolid chauffeur Tony behind the wheel. The two of them take the disheveled young blonde by the elbows and help her out to the car and into the back seat.

"What happened…. What happened?" Fiona keeps asking, putting her arms around her shivering roommate in the back of the long black limo as it speeds off into the night. "I don't want to talk about it…" Alison tells her, wishing only to be home in a long hot bath where she can wash the stink of dried urine and crusted come off her battered body. Arriving at their apartment building, the brunette guides her past the doorman and up to their swanky bachelorette pad, sitting her down on the couch and pouring her a brandy {after spreading a towel out underneath her first} . Alison sits there shivering as her supposed friend goes and fills a tub with warm freshly-scented bubble bath. When the king-sized tub is full, Fiona leads to it and helps her in, throwing her filth-encrusted clothing in the garbage and then sitting down on the edge. After getting a good look at he welts on Alison's shapely rear, Fiona speaks up.. "Jesus Christ, it looks like you caught quite a beating… Honey I know you don't want to talk about it right now, but it seems pretty obvious that you've been raped," she says carefully. Alison nods mutely. "I don't know if I should bring this up, but you probably feel all dirty on the inside as well…"

Fiona leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with a big red enema bag in her hand and a selection of nozzles… Filling it with hot soapy water, she hangs it on a convenient hook over the toilet. "You might want to use this," she says. "Don't worry it's clean… I sterilize the nozzles in the dishwasher." Alison stares at her dully… "Well, I'll leave you to it," her sexy roommate sez, leaving the bath and closing the door behind her. Behind each of the mirrored walls, hidden video cameras continue to whirr, activated whenever someone enters the room.

Back in his own lavish condo, Slate lounges is a favorite armchair, smiling to himself in satisfaction as he fiddles with the remote controls, pulling in for close-ups and checking out different views on his giant-sized TV. This beats HBO anytime. He reminds himself to give Leroy a bonus… he performed his part even better than expected. The black ex-convict is only one of a number of goons that Slate keeps on retainer for such things as intimidating business rivals, bodyguarding, leg-breaking, etc. A dangerous man, but easily controlled. Slate was instrumental in obtaining Leroy's early release from prison, and Leroy knows that one word from him could send him back instantly. The guy will do anything for a few hundred bucks worth of drugs. One day soon, when Leroy gets to knowing too much, he'll probably have to have him killed, if he doesn't OD first. But then, who would miss him? Slate's dark eyes glitter as he watches Alison step out of the bath, carefully drying herself, and sit down on the padded toilet seat. The lovely blonde takes the longest nozzle and, dipping the tip in a little Vaseline, slowly inserts it into herself, first in front and then behind. Slate switches views. He's even got a camera that looks up from inside the fucking toilet. Alison cleans herself out thoroughly, not wanting to leave any trace of her rapist's filthy semen inside her. God knows what horrible diseases he might be carrying. At that thought, she fills the bag again with hot water, throwing in plenty of antiseptic, and repeats the whole process again. Then she gets up, goes to the sink, and brushes her teeth about three or four times, gargling with mouthwash in between. Even after all that, she still feels soiled. She wonders if she'll ever feel clean again.

"Hey, honey… are you all right in there?' Fiona calls from the next room. "Yes… yes I guess so…" Alison replies, slipping into a frilly white nightie hanging on the back of the door and putting a bathrobe on over it, belting it around her slender waist. In fact she feels almost human again, although terribly sore and very tired. As she comes out of the bathroom into the living-dining area, she sees that Fiona has changed into her baby-doll pajamas and is waiting for her. Just then the phone rings, and her roommate picks it up. It is Slate, suggesting to Alison that she take a few days off from work, if she needs to, and to call him if there's anything he can do. She tells her dark-haired roommate to thank him. Fiona hangs up, then disappears into her room for a minute, returning with a tube of ointment and a couple of pills "Here… take these, they'll help you to sleep." Alison swallows the pills with some water and gratefully heads off to her room. Fiona follows her into her frilly girlish bedroom, dominated by an ornate four-poster canopy bed. "If you want I could help you rub some of this salve on your welts… It'll help them to heal…"

Alison takes off her bathrobe and flops down on the bed, turning over on her stomach and resting her head on her arms. Fiona lifts her nightie up behind and gently rubs some of the soothing ointment on her lacerated buns. As the sedative begins to take hold, Alison finds her thoughts beginning to wander, reliving some of the events earlier that evening. The girl shudders as she remembers the terrible pain and fear but also the surprising ecstasy that she has experienced. She remembers herself begging Leroy to fuck her, fuck her, fuck her. How could she? How could she actually enjoy her degrading anal rape, even for a minute? But if she's honest with herself, in some ways it was the most exciting thing that ever happened to her. She must be sick… sick,sick,sick. A lump rises in her throat as she is filled with guilt, remorse and self-pity. She sees her mother's dried-up, merciless face pronouncing judgement… Your hot little twat is going to get you in trouble, the old prune gloats. But it wasn't her fault… or was it? She can't think any more. Dimly aware of the soothing hands massaging her behind, she thinks of Fiona… yes Fiona would understand. She resolves to tell her roommate everything in the morning as darkness closes in and she slips into unconsciousness.

TO BE CONTINUED….

CHAPTER TWO- THE SECOND DAY

Alison spends a restless night, her sleep disturbed by a series of uneasy dreams. Big black snakes crawl up her legs, trying to squirm their way underneath her dress and beneath her panties into her pussy and nudging at her tender rectum. She tries to push them away but she has no strength in her arms, which flop around limply like spaghetti. She wants to scream but only little cooing and squeaking noises come out, encouraging her assailants on. The head of one black snake turns into the leering black face of Leroy, who laughs at her sadistically. Another snake metamorphosizes into her boss Mr. Slate, impassively watching her torment. His forked tongue licks out at her tender clit, which rises in anticipation. Her hips buck uncontrollably as he bites her tender little nookie, injecting his poison, which strangely does not kill her but merely makes her swoon in girlish surrender as her cunt gushes moisture. Her mother glares down at her, telling her she should be punished… punished for being such a slut. The lovely girl writhes and moans in her sleep, her hands unconsciously caressing her moistening slit, the sheets wet with her perspiration, a knot of anxiety in her belly that rises up into her throat. In another dream she finds herself naked in front of a bunch of faceless men, standing in a spotlight next to a post in a darkened room. She tries to cover herself with her hands but unseen hands grab her and shackle her wrists and ankles to the obelisk tightly so that her belly is pressed up against it. Looking back over her shoulder, she sees a hooded man dressed all in black limbering up a long black leather whip. He raises it up over his head… At the first blow, Alison snaps out of her slumber, awakening with a start, trembling in fear. It is four AM. Finally she falls back into a deep and dreamless slumber, not stirring until noon the next day.

When the petite blonde does wake up, the sun is already high in the sky and she feels much better, except for a kind of queasy feeling in her stomach whenever she thinks of what happened to her. Except for a couple of darkish red marks across her ass and a little soreness inside the little cutie is not too much the worse for wear. She may be mentally scarred but her face doesn't show it. She still looks as innocent as she ever did, her high arching brow uncreased by suffering or care. Fiona has already been up for hours and is ready with some coffee and pastries, already dressed for the day in some kind of hot pants and halter combo with ankleboots. There are red marks around her wrists that she hasn't bothered to try to hide. Alison wonders what her perverse little roommate has been up to. The blonde finishes her coffee, then goes to take a shower, brush her teeth, fix her hair and makeup like any other normal day. She puts on perfume and earrings, shrugging herself into a lacy push up bra and panty set of black nylon. Alison stretches her lithe body and wonders what to wear… maybe a pantsuit.

She puts on a black one which covers her from neck to ankle, zipping it up to her throat. Then she goes and sits demurely on the couch, sipping her second cup of coffee and idly listening to some pop music on the stereo. Fiona bustles around in the background, washing dishes and then making them both some lunch. The hot-looking little brunette brings them both some tuna fish salad or something and they both sit down companionably to eat their diet lunch and watch some daytime TV as Fiona speculates amusingly about what she would do with her favorite hunks. Alison is loosening up a little now, at least smiling once in a while. They finish their lunch and decide to have a little white wine… after all at least they don't have to go to work today. Maybe Fiona breaks out a couple of joints. Soon the sound of girlish giggles fills the room. The brunette sits down close by her roommate's side, suddenly becoming serious. "So are you ready to talk about it now? Maybe it would help you to sort out your feelings. Tell me what happened to you last night."

The tormented blonde haltingly begins her tale… "He was black… He was big and ugly and angry… so angry. He hurt me so much, I thought I was going to die." Fiona interrupts her… "You mean HE was big or you mean his THING was big?" "Well, both…" Alison replies, "I mean he was monstrous, an animal. He got me tied up so I couldn't escape and then whenever he wanted me to do something he just whipped me with his belt until I was ready to obey. I couldn't do a thing but cry and beg for mercy but the more I begged the harder he beat me with that awful belt." "So that's how you got those stripes," Fiona exclaims, "Good lord you look like a fucking zebra back there, honey." Alison is still well aware of the reddened welts that decorate her tender tush. She feels them every time she gingerly shifts position on the couch. She goes on, "He made me take some kind of drugs with him, and when I didn't want any more he just stuffed them inside me you know down there and in behind… I just lost control totally. He could have done anything he wanted to me… and he did! I don't know what came over me, but the worst part, the most shameful part, was that is that I begged him for more. It was so humiliating… there I was pleading for him to fuck me harder and deeper, harder and deeper…" The luscious blonde's voice trails off to a whisper.

"Honey you can't help being a woman." Fiona reassures her downcast friend. "I kinda like it harder and deeper myself sometimes… in fact all the time. I even let my boyfriends tie me up sometimes. I guess I kinda like it, being all helpless and quivering and all… It kinda gets me excited just thinking about it." "It does?" Alison asks dubiously. "Yes it does. Here I'll show you what I mean." Fiona disappears into her room and returns a moment later with something silvery in her hands. It is a pair of heavy-looking handcuffs, official police style, not some toy. "I use these all the time. You should have seen Rocky's face last night when I told him to put them on me. He almost popped his load in his pants. When a man clicks them around my wrists I feel like I belong to him completely. Is that what you're talking about?"

"Well yes, I guess so…" the recently-molested receptionist answers hesitantly. "Somehow I felt that even though he was raping me, perhaps even because he was raping me, he could make me do things that I never imagined… never believed I could. And love it… God help me I loved it. Can you imagine? Somehow by being bound I could be free… free to feel a kind of passion that my nice little boyfriends like Tom could never arouse. I must be sick… I don't know what's wrong with me. When he sodomized me, well I couldn't help it… he made me come and come and come with his big black dick up my ass. I'd never even thought of letting anyone do that to me before. Now I wonder if anyone's ever going to do it to me again…" "Do you want them to?" asks Fiona. "I don't knowww…" replies Alison coyly. Maybe if it was the right man, the right time and place…" The handcuffs sit there on the table between them, gleaming and cold. Just then the phone rings. It is Mr. Slate. He tells Fiona to take good care of Alison he's coming over in an hour or so to see how she's doing.

When Alison hears that her boss is coming over to visit, she perks right up, breaking the reverie that she and Fiona had fallen into. She goes back into her room to change and primp. Mr. Slate… coming over here… she does so want him to like her. She peels off the jumpsuit, sitting down in her low-cut black bra and high cut sheer nylon panties to fix her makeup. She brushes on a little more eyeshadow, touching up her eyeliner and mascara, changing her shade of lipstick to a bright pink-magenta that contrasts excitingly with the flawless whiteness of her skin. She perfumes her neck, her underarms and wrists and even sprays a little on her inner thighs. If things ever get that far, the innocent-looking blonde secretly giggles to herself. She goes into her lingerie drawer and pulls on a new pair of sheer black lacy-top thigh high stockings, their rubberized tops clinging damply to her flesh an inch or so below where the whiteness of her loins contrasts sharply with the tightly stretched black nylon covering her tender mound, which is unconsciously starting to sweeten itself already as she remembers Mr. Slate's commanding manner. She has no reason to think that her roommate might be jealous, since Fiona has given no indication that she is and has been for some time the boss's personal fucktoy. If anything, the brunette has encouraged her fantasies along those lines with a few well-placed hints and suggestions.

Alison slides into a lacy short slip, then pulls out a black cocktail dress for herself from her well-stocked closet. It has sheer panels on top, above the bust, and zippers up the back to a point between her narrow shoulder blades. You can clearly see the outlines of her lacy underthings through the mesh beneath the frou frou at the neckline, the black brassiere that thrusts her terrific tits up and forward. The skirt hugs her shapely ass tightly, hanging down to mid-thigh with another border or frou frou at the hem. Very cute, but it needs something. Alison selects a four inch wide black belt of spandex with a large silver clasp and buckles it tightly, pleased with the way it accentuates the slimness of her waist and the roundness of her hips. Then she pulls on a pair of strappy black patent heels, too high to be practical for much walking but then she probably won't need to go too far tonight. She admires the effect in the full length mirror, fluffing out her long blonde hair. She looks stunning. I hope it's not TOO daring, the lovely girl thinks to herself. I don't want him to think I'm some kind of whore, do I? Just some silly little secretary that can't wait to spread her legs for him?

Is that what he'll think? Alison anxiously returns to the living room to await Slate's arrival. She perches on the couch, sipping on another glass of white wine, a docile expression on her oval face. She looks with curiosity at the handcuffs still lying there on the coffee table. Surely Fiona will put them away before he gets here. It is now late in the afternoon.

"Would you like to try them on, honey?" her sultry-looking roommate suggests silkily. "See if it doesn't give you a quiver. Look I'll even let you hold the key. You can get out of them anytime you want. Just feel them." Of course the key does not really fit the cuffs, but Alison is too ignorant of such things to know that. She picks up and examines the cuffs and the short thick chain between them. They are cold and heavy in her hand. "You really let Rocky put these on you?" Fiona smiles brightly. "All right… but just for a minute…" the blonde says, snapping one bracelet around her bony little wrist. It feels icy, implacable. A little shiver of fear runs down her spine, somehow exciting a spark in her belly. Fiona is right. Once she puts them on, there will be no escaping their metallic grip. Smiling bravely, she snaps the other cuff onto her other hand, ratcheting it tightly enough to feel the bite. Alison holds her cuffed hands up in front of her, twisting them this way and that. So this is what her roommate was talking about. Suddenly she feels terribly vulnerable… what if Mr. Slate should see her like this? He'd probably want to… he'd probably think she was some kind of bondage freak. Good thing the key is laying right there on the coffee table. Alison reaches for it. Just then the doorbell rings.

It is Slate. Fiona gets up to let him in, completely ignoring her cuffed friend there on the couch. Alison in a panic struggles to fit the key into the cuffs and turn it but of course it doesn't seem to work and as she gets more and more flustered and frantic she fumbles the key and it drops onto the floor and rolls under the couch. She is still bent over on her knees with her butt up in the air trying to find it when her boss walks into the room. "Ahh… little Alison…" he says. "Are you in trouble again already?" As always, the 45ish exec looks immaculately pressed, rich but not soft. He wears his thousand-dollar suit like a coat of armor, and puts on a new custom-tailored shirt every morning. He looks like he works out a couple of times a week and always has a tan even in the middle of winter. Fiona brings him a drink as he takes off his jacket and tie and makes himself at home, sitting down in a black leather armchair as if he were the father of the house, which in fact he is. Alison squirms in humiliation as she struggles to sit back up decorously, attempting to hide her hands in the folds of her skirt. "I was just explaining to Alison how exciting it feels to wear steel." The brunette remarks conversationally. "Don't you think they make the perfect accessory?" "The girl has never looked lovelier, Fiona my pet." Slate remarks, "Tell me, Alison, I hope you are feeling better." The blonde feels his eyes traveling up her curvy nyloned legs from her tightly pinched high-heeled toes to the shadowed area between her thighs. "Y… Yes Mr.Slate… I just… needed some rest." She murmurs awkwardly. "Ahh… the amazing recuperative powers of the young," Slate sighs. "Just relax, young lady… " he commands her offhandedly. "I"ve got something here I'd like you to see." He pulls a videotape out of his briefcase and slaps it into the VCR.

Immediately the room is filled with the sounds of Alison sobbing as she begs Leroy to fuck her harder and deeper. On the screen, the girl sees herself eagerly returning her rapist's thrusts, whimpering in joy and torment. And she believed that the camera had been knocked out of action when the power failed to the elevator… oh what a fool she had been. Alison twists her hands anxiously in the steel cuffs that imprison her, squirming in mortification as every lurid detail of her drugging and subsequent anal defloration are played out in exquisite detail. She can see herself moaning and bucking herself back on her rapist's hard driving sodomising dick. Stretching her to the point of pain… pain that seemed to turn to joy as she surrendered herself totally to the dark intruder slamming deeper and deeper into her violated bowels. Now the most intimate aspects of the whole humiliating episode are displayed for her roommate and the sardonic Mr. Slate to examine in detail. Alison squirms in her manacles, rubbing her stockinged thighs together nervously. "Please… I don't want to see any more… Why are you showing me this? What do you want from me?" she pleads. "Alison, we just want you to see yourself as you really are." Says her boss, coming to sit down beside her on the couch. The young blonde trembles, feeling his powerful presence so close beside her. "As to what I will require of you, you will learn more about that later. Am I correct in assuming that you would not want anyone else to ever see this tape?" The lovely blonde nods silently. How could she ever face her friends or family if this shameful incident were to be made public? How could she ever return to her job? Not that those things are going to matter to her for long, but at this point she still has no idea of the depths into which she is about to plunge She grimaces in disgust as she sees herself slavishly licking Leroy's slimy black Johnson clean.

Slate takes Alison's two handcuffed hands from where they are twisting anxiously in her lap and holds them in one of his own. "What I demand from you, Alison, is nothing less than your total submission, body and soul. I intend to make you my slave, starting right now. From this moment on you and your body will belong to me, morning noon and night. Your only purpose in life will be to serve and obey me. Your mouth, your breasts, your belly and backside are no longer your own, but entirely under my command. First I will make you my whore. Then I will punish you. Do you understand?" The stunned and appalled Alison finds it impossible to answer: a knot of fear and anguish chokes her throat. She thought she wanted her handsome and craggy-faced boss, but not like this… not like this… All her silly romantic fantasies of moonlit nights and exotic cruises explode in a sudden poof! Still holding Alison's wrists in one hand, Slate runs the other up the trembling girl's thighs, pushing aside her skirt and grabbing her pussy firmly through the flimsy nylon of her black panties, already damp with her juices. He pushes them aside and roughly jams a couple of fingers into her tender little twat. Alison gives a shrill squeak, but allows her head to lean back on the couch behind her, closing her eyes and submissively adjusting herself to his probing digits, her mouth open and gasping.

"There's no need for you to speak, Alison, your body has answered for you," says Slate. "You see, I know you better than you know yourself." The sweet little blonde is totally intimidated and overwhelmed by this physical and psychological assault. She would agree to anything as long as he's holding her like this. His fingers squelch in and out of her hot little honeypot, finally making her moan. "I… I'll be a good girl for you, sir," she gasps, feeling very childlike in his powerful hands. "Please don't punish me…" Slate roughly pushes her away, withdrawing his burning digits from her wet little nookie. "Let's just see how obedient you can be. Stand up and take off your dress."

"What, in front of Fiona?" Yes, in front of Fiona. Now. She likes it when he gives her orders. Alison struggles with her cuffed hands to undo the belt around her waist, then she wiggles and squirms delightfully trying to get out of the tight cocktail dress. There's no way. "I just can't…" There's no way she can get her dress unzipped and up over her head with her hands cuffed in front of her like this. "You're a fucking failure as a slave already, Alison… you're going to need a lot of training." Slate tells her with a menacing grin. "Put your hands up over your head." The submissive secretary complies, holding her tightly-cuffed wrists up high. Slate steps up close behind her. She holds herself still, remembering how she stood before her rapist in just the same position. Only then she was tied… Why does she not bring her hands down from over her head to protect herself from the man as he strips off her dress and slip, leaving her in nothing but her lacy black lingerie? Why doesn't she try to stop the hands that continue to fondle and stroke her lush curves as she holds herself motionless in his grasp, her arms stretched up towards the ceiling, opening her pink lipsticked mouth to let him stick his tongue down her throat. The hands that pull and twist on her hardening nipples through the lacy cup of the bra, hurting them, making her gasp into his mouth. He breaks off, leaving her panting. "Yes, you'll be a good girl for me…" he muses. "A good little fucking whore. Anyone can see that that is what you were made for." She looks up at him, wide eyed, eating it up. "You can put your hands down now. Go and get me a drink."

She walks off towards the kitchen without a word, her white ass cheeks still faintly welted and jiggling as she gracefully balances on her very high heels, slipping easily into this new role… Slave… Sex slave… yes I guess that's what you'd call it. Sex slave… She feels the bite of the steel cuffs on her wrists as she fiddles around in the kitchen getting ice and putting it in a glass, etc, turning the words over in her mind, wondering why they seem to excite her so. Will he keep me cuffed like this all the time? She wonders. I guess I'll just have to get used to doing things this way. She has to admit that having her hands manacled makes her think twice about disobeying him, makes her feel naughty, provocative… She keenly feels the exposure of her flesh, her scanty undergarments only enticing further exploration. When will he put his hands back on her, in her? A knot of anxiety gathers in her stomach, her sheer nylon panties clinging damply to her shamelessly moistening slit.

Meanwhile, Fiona has gone off to a walk-in closet in the hall and drags out a largish trunk, pulling it across the floor and into Alison's room. You can hear her opening it and unpacking stuff. Alison returns from the kitchen with a scotch on the rocks in her hand, setting it down on the coffee table in front of her boss and standing there quietly, her eyes lowered and her cuffed hands in front of her. He just sits there staring at her for a few minutes and she starts to squirm restlessly… Finally he orders her to get down on her knees. She watches silently as he pulls a glass vial out of his pocket, similar to the one that Leroy was carrying. He shakes out a half a gram or so of some white powder onto the smooth marble top of the coffee table, separating it into lines and laying a small glass straw in front of her. Alison's heart sinks within her, remembering the powerful effects of the substance. She knows that once she does it, once the drugs hit her bloodstream, she will have absolutely no control over herself. "Do…do I have to…?" she asks hesitantly… "Is that an order?" "Yes, you stupid fucking cunt that's an order!" Slate replies impatiently. "Or would you like me to shove it up your ass?" Alison bends over the coffee table, her butt cheeks straining at the thin fabric of her panties as she compliantly snorts up four or five lines… enough so that she's really flying. Her head is spinning and her heart is pounding wildly in her chest as Slate helps her to her feet and kisses her deeply. She melts in his arms. He leads her back towards the bedroom. "Let's see what Fiona has been up to in there." he says.

Alison's girlish bedroom has been transformed. Laid out and arranged around the room are every bondage and fetishistic item ever known to man. Corsets of leather, satin and brocade. Whips, paddles and belts of every description. Plugs, dildos and vibrators large and small, some with straps to keep them on or in. Straps, chains and fetters, gags, blindfolds, collars and cuffs. clips clamps and fasteners. Lubricants and rubber underwear. Boots and shoes with six and seven inch heels. Bizarre looking earrings, necklaces and bracelets. A variety of O rings have been screwed into the frame of her four-poster bed, presumably to fasten her with. On her dressing table is a steaming tub of hot water, a towel, shave cream and a straight razor. "Let's get this little bitch shaved…" Slate commands. He hands Alison off to Fiona, who gently pushes the dazed and compliantly-stoned girl down on her back on the bed, her hands still cuffed in front of her. The brunette climbs up onto the bed and squats over Alison's chest, pulling her manacled wrists up over her head and fastening them to a convenient ring mounted there at the head of the bed. Alison lays there staring up into space vacantly, breathing hard, her legs squirming. Fiona moves down her body, deftly slitting the straps of her bra and removing it, freeing her softly rounded breasts, her nipples slowly hardening in the breeze. She slowly peels the blonde's panties down, exposing her quivering quim. Slate gazes down at her impassively, the straight razor in his hand glinting menacingly in the light. "Get her legs up!" he commands.

The dark-haired girl quickly fastens a pair of leather cuffs to her roommate's shapely ankles right over the straps of her high heels and fastens longish chains to the leather cuffs. Feeding the chain through the O rings mounted at the top posts of the bed, Fiona draws them tight, pulling Alison's feet up and up until they're in the air up there by her ears somewhere. The girl is violently quartered, her hips tilted up and her whole pussy and asscrack spread open wide. "That looks better…" says Slate, sitting down between Alison's legs at the foot of the bed. Alison is breathing hard, truly frightened now. She has never felt so totally exposed. Slate pats her wide-spread mound possessively. She squirms as best she's able, her clit obediently standing up and begging for attention. He caresses it idly, testing her. She jumps like she'd been stuck with a red-hot pin. Yeah this bitch is primed. Alison stares down at him over her breasts and belly, her eyes open wide. He picks up the can of shaving gel and squirts some around over the wide-stretched blonde's lower belly, working it up into a lather over her crotch and between her buttocks. "From now on you will keep your little snatch shaved clean for me always, Alison. Fiona will be glad to assist you if you wish." "That sounds nice…" the fucked-up blonde murmurs demurely, "But will she have to tie me like this?"

Slate smirks to himself, aware of the slightly teasing tone of her reply. This one has slipped so easily into the role… he sure had her pegged all right. He takes the straight razor to her little blonde muffin. Whisk whisk whisk he scrapes the fur from above her tender slit, working carefully around her swollen and upstanding clit and down her pouting pussy lips, stretching the skin tightly and then scraping it bare. The coldness of the razor in contact with her moist tender parts makes her shiver, and her brow furrows as she puts all of her concentration into holding herself perfectly still, terrified by the proximity of the blade as the man deliberately shaves a few little hairs from around her wrinkled asshole. Oh god… Her skin where he has shaved it is as smooth and sensitive as a baby's. A baby… that's what she feels like… childlike and dependant… innocent and trusting. Somewhere in another part of her mind, alarm bells are screaming but they seem muted and far away… Fiona reaches over to spray an atomizer on her newly-denuded crotch. It is some sort of perfume, which burns her as the alcohol dries and evaporates on the tender private parts. Fiona sprays more in her armpits, between her breasts, etc. It is a heavy floral scent but with a tang of something else… something musky. Yes there it is the unmistakable aroma of female in heat. Eau de cunt. The perfume is laced with female pheromones guaranteed to get any man's nose open. Alison's mind drifts aimlessly for a moment, coming back to alertness when her legs are finally lowered. It feels so good to be able to relax them. Fiona removes the chains but leaves the cuffs on. Her hands are still manacled and fastened above her head.

"With a figure like yours, Alison, you were made for corsets." Says Slate. "Why don't you try on this black one here…" he asks facetiously, picking one out from the big black chest in the corner. It is patent leather, long and lined in silk, with half cups in front designed to thrust their contents up and forward. He helps Alison up from the bed, taking her by the arm and guiding her to the doorway, refastening her hands to a hook in the doorframe over her head. Standing there with her back to him in the doorway to her own room, surrounded by shining leather and metal gear, the beautiful blonde knows that her life has changed forever. On the television in the other room, Alison sees herself in the bathroom last night, douching her rapist's semen from her vagina and anus. She has lost all right to privacy or concealment, even in the bathroom. Slate fastens the hooks and eyes of the corset around her. It is heavy duty, stiffly boned with flexible metal strips and severe enough to reduce her already slender twenty two inch waistline to a mere eighteen inches if it is tightened to its maximum. Slate ties it very tightly indeed, pulling relentlessly on the yards of lacing up and down her back, making it meet. Stretched out as she is, there's no way for her to resist the inexorable tightening of the shiny black leather around her middle, pushing her belly and waistline in and her diaphragm up, forcing her to breathe in shallow gasps and thrusting her rear impudently out behind. When he has laced her up as tight as the corset will permit, he wraps the loose laces around her body at the waist and ties them in a double knot at the back. He then takes a four inch wide black leather belt with several rows of holes pierced through it and a sturdy triple buckle from Fiona and cinches it around her over the corset laces, buckling it very tight. Alison's whole torso is now seized in a doubly iron grip, which forces her to stand stiffly erect and accentuates the fullness of her breasts and the swelling of her hips. She feels as though she can barely breathe, that she might snap at any moment. The constriction of her waist seems to force the blood up into her head, making her temples pound, and down into her belly where her sweetly-shaved little honeypot contrasts excitingly with the black leather and lace surrounding it. Slate fastens the six or eight garters from the bottom of her corset to her lacy stocking tops, stretching them tightly to the tops of her thighs. "From now on, Alison, you're going to wear a corset every day."

Slate lets the girl hang there as he describes his future plans for her, warming to his subject. He reaches up and clicks the handcuffs a notch tighter around her wrists, making them bite into her wristbones painfully at the slightest movement. Her fingers wiggle and writhe futilely, flashing glints off her long polished pink fingernails. She looks anxiously back over her shoulder at him as he stands behind her, the front of his trousers just brushing against her temptingly bare buttocks that jut so invitingly from the shiny black patent leather that encircles her hips. You can still see the faint traces of the darker stripes where Leroy had marked her with his belt. "You're going to need a lot of training, Alison…" Slate remarks, reaching around in front of her to cup and fondle her freshly-shaved slit, making the bound and corseted girl's knees buckle as she hangs there from the hook above her head. "I'm going to see to it that you are under strict supervision twenty four hours a day. I will select your wardrobe, tell you what to wear and when and with who to take it off. My lovely young personal assistant here, your roommate, will carry out my instructions for you when I cannot be present. You will do as she tells you, remembering that a word from her is a command from me. If you refuse, you will be forced. If you resist or struggle, you will be whipped. Remember that if Fiona has any difficulty in controlling you, reinforcements are quickly available."

With that, Slate pushes a red button on a small hand-held beeper device. Within seconds, there are heavy footsteps in the hall, and three burly leg-breaker types crowd through the doorway to the apartment in their cheap suits. "Hey boss, what's the problem? Seems like you have the situation pretty well under control…" Slate turns Alison around so that she is facing the living room and the three men standing there, her hands still bound to the hook over her head, her body squeezed into the restrictive black corset. "This is my new little bitch Alison." Says Slate sardonically. "Ain't she a thoroughbred? You'll keep her safe for me boys, won't you?"

"Yeah boss… nobody comes or goes without you say so… I got it." "And if Fiona needs you for anything, you'll be available to help her out?" Slate inquires. "Lookin' forward to it, boss…" says the hulking bouncer type, his piggish eyes glittering as he frankly ogles the bound girl before him. "Say hello to Tony…" sez Slate, "And this here is Mickey and Luis. No doubt you'll be seeing more of them, and they of you." Alison tries to smile awkwardly at the three goons standing in front of her, who have in fact become her jailors. Her girlish bedroom is now full of men who it seems can come and go as they please. She presses her stockinged thighs together, trying to conceal her freshly-shaved slit. "I'd shake hands with you, but you see how things are…" the enslaved secretary says softly. "Yeah, honey… we see all right. Catch you later, boss…" The three thugs saunter back out of the apartment and down the hall. "I own this whole floor…" says Slate, "In fact the whole building. But this apartment is kind of special. I've had it soundproofed for one thing, and a number of useful devices have been installed. Useful for schooling and conditioning young women like you. Don't think that you're the first or will be the last. To me, you're just another little twat I'm training… You got that?" Alison nods silently, her eyes downcast, once again more or less thoroughly put in her place… Twat in training.

"I've got several more apartments like this across town…" Slate explains, "each with other women living in it, all young and beautiful girls. You might say that training sluts is a hobby of mine…" He explains to her that nothing gives him more pleasure in life than the control he exerts over his little sex slaves. He even runs what you might call a small call-girl service, not so much for the money it brings in as for the enjoyment he finds in seeing his female trainees being forced to entertain many strange men. Slate plans to make sure that Alison gets fucked four or five times a day. He hopes that the sweet little blonde has learned to enjoy being sodomized because she is going to get it that way often from now on. He himself is going to fuck her hard up the ass every single time he sees her, starting with today. She may be punished, penetrated or pierced in any way and at any time or place that amuses him. "But what about my job… my family… my life…" Alison begins to protest. "Forget about all that silly meaningless shit, cupcake… You were made for just one thing… to serve my dick." Alison's knees are shaking as he calmly outlines his plans for her, looking into her liquid blue eyes as he holds her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him and meet his gaze. Finally, he releases her hands from the ring in the doorway and walks her back to the bed, his hand firmly on her arm. She can hardly walk, with the corset squeezing her so tightly around the middle. "Don't worry, honey, you'll get used to it…" Fiona says knowingly, noting her discomfort. Fiona… that bitch, thinks her roommate. She set me up. I'd like to scratch her fucking eyes out. Slate pushes her down on the bed. "Get me a collar and some cuffs, Fiona… and a size twelve butt plug." He orders the sultry brunette.

Alison squirms there sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing up at her boss, her manacled hands resting in her lap, her anxious thighs rubbing together. She's still pretty stoned from the stuff she snorted an hour or so ago, although Slate's diatribe has had a somewhat sobering effect. Time seems to have become stretched out somehow… She feels unreal and detached, yet still very much present in the physical sense. Her body thrums with excitement and fear. She wants to be good for him… she'll try to be good for him, in spite of her resentment over the way she has been suckered by her slutty roommate. On the TV screen in the other room, she sees a closeup of Fiona tonguing her to orgasm on the day they shaved. Fiona knew all along, of course. The dark haired girl now returns to her bedside with a wooden box bound in metal, containing an assortment of collars and cuffs. They are of steel covered with black leather, slightly padded on the inside with some quilted material, and possessed of their own locking mechanisms. Around the outside of these objects, several rings provide ample opportunities to attach fastenings. "You will wear this collar and these cuffs as long as you are with me…" sez Slate, fitting the black choker around her neck and clicking it closed with a audible and final-sounding metallic snap. He changes the handcuffs for matching wrist bands, Fiona helping him to hold the blonde's arms as he makes the switch. Alison struggles slightly, ineffectually. The collar and cuffs fit her tightly but not painfully so.

They press her down backwards on the bed, pulling her hands up over her head once again and stretching her arms wide. "How do you want her, boss?" Fiona inquires. "Like before… " he says. "With her legs up and spread…" Once more Alison's cuffed ankles are hoisted up until they are up by her shoulders and then fastened there at the top of the bed, her knees doubled back. It's a good thing Alison had all those dance classes back when she was in high school to keep her limber and flexible. With her feet pulled up over her head like this and the tight corset compressing her middle, the luscious little receptionist can't move a muscle. She can barely breathe. "We've got lots of more surprises for you, Alison…" her craggy-faced employer gloats. "This is how I like to see you, spread wide and open for me. You look very cute like that, but maybe you could use a few accessories… Yes, accessories make the look. You wouldn't mind wearing this for a little while, would you?"

"This" is a black, somewhat flexible rubber appliance, about a foot long and an inch and a half thick, with a flaring base to which are attached three little straps or chains. The man waves it around in front of her face, making sure she can get a good look at it. Wear it? How? Slate rests the heel of his palm on the young secretary's freshly denuded mons, holding her steady. Dipping the head of the object in a jar of warm lubricant, he smears some of the stuff around between her widely separated ass cheeks, prodding at the bound girl's tiny wrinkled butt hole. He works some of the stuff in there with his finger, penetrating her roughly. The inside of her ass is squishy and still feels clean. Her sphincter grips his finger tightly as the girl moans weakly, her lips parting to reveal a couple of pearly white teeth. He slips another couple of fingers up Alison's moistening cunt, sawing them in and out as she lies there helplessly gasping. "I'll be good sir, I'll be good…" Holding her immobile by the fingers firmly hooked in her twat, Slate forces the head of the plug up into Alison's bruised and delicate anus, making her wince. Never stopping his relentless pressure, in a matter of moments he corkscrews the whole thing into her to the hilt until her pinkish rectal membranes are squelching and gripping futilely at its wide base. Then he fastens the straps on the thing to little rings mounted at the bottom hem of the corset, two in front on either side of her perfumed little pussy and one running up the crack of her ass in the back, cinching them up tight. Now that it's locked in there good and solid, there's no way the sweet blonde will be able to remove or expel it. She'll just have to wear it until somebody decides to take it out. It's not so thick as to be terribly painful, but she is certain to always be aware of the long shaft stretching and penetrating her, the head wiggling around somewhere deep inside her guts.

"Just part of your training, Alison. You have a lovely ass, but it's a little too hard to get into. You really need more practice. So sometime late every afternoon, Fiona or whoever else is around will fasten one of these instruments inside you, which you will then be made to wear until it is time for your nightly whipping. You will note that this is only a size twelve. That is twelve inches long and an inch and a half thick. Let me show you a size eighteen…" It's a good six inches longer and easily twice as thick. "Every day, we will select a larger one for you. By the end of a week, your delicate rear should be much more accommodating." Alison's eyes close in fear after taking in the sight of the monstrous black rectum-stretcher she knows she will be wearing soon. Her arms and legs and hips are starting to ache from being bound so tightly in this extreme position. She doesn't know why, but somehow having her rear stuffed up like this makes her clit stand up and beg for attention. Slate notices this and gives it a few contemptuous flicks. The blonde bites her lip to keep from yelping. "Your little clitty feels neglected, doesn't it, Alison? Don't worry… we've got something for that too. Fiona, hand me some clips…"

The bound receptionist's eyes pop open as she feels her boss seize her nakedly exposed clitoral shaft between his fingers, feels the bite of sharp little metal teeth fastening around the madly pulsating bud of flesh at the top of her slit. Slate adjusts the tension and then fastens a fine chain to the clip on her clit, pulling it upward and threading it through another small ring in the bottom edge of the corset. Now even her clit is in bondage, the little hood of flesh above it pulled up and back to make it stand out prominently. Slate quickly teases her sweet pink nipples out of the lacy half-cups of the corset and subjects them to similar treatment, fastening similar clips to the tender, hardening buds and connecting them with a silvery chain. "Wait until I get you pierced, you little slut…" What does he mean? Alison is beyond thinking. The manacles holding he limbs, the corset tightly laced around her, the clips biting into and pinching her most tender spots, the long phallic intruder filling her backside have her complete attention. Never in her life has she felt so totally dominated and controlled. Slate's voice seems to echo in her ears, resonating through her. Her Master's words, she thinks… using the word for the first time. Yes… Yes my master she thinks, surrendering to him utterly.

Meanwhile, Fiona has been off in the corner cooking something up. When she returns, she holds in her hands a silver tray covered with a white napkin, on which has been laid out an assortment of IV drug paraphernalia. Some alcohol swabs, glass bottles of some unknown liquid with those rubber stoppers on the top that you stick the needle through, and an assortment of hypodermic needles and syringes, laid out in size order. These range from little insulin needles a half an inch long and as slender as a hair to three-inch horse stickers in gauge eighteen, and everything in between. There are syringes of one and three and ten cc. They are the old-fashioned kind, all chrome and glass. No plastic here. The sharp medicinal smell of alcohol makes the bound blonde open her eyes in alarm. "Wanna play doctor, Alison?" asks her roommate. Alison examines the gleaming instruments out of the corner of her eye… " Oh no… no no please… no not that no needles… please no needles…" she babbles in terror.

"Don't worry, sweetie, you're gonna enjoy this. All the little whores are doing it…" says the dark-haired girl, sitting down at the edge of the bed and fitting a fine half-inch needle onto the end of a 3cc syringe. She then sticks the needle into the bottle of liquid and carefully draws out a syringeful of solution, being careful to squeeze out the air bubbles. "It's nothing you haven't done before… actually it's a new synthetic that some of the boys at the drug lab cooked up. It's really the just same as what you snorted before, only in more concentrated form, and mixed with a little anesthetic to make the injections less painful." She hands the filled syringe to Slate, returning to her work to make several more. Each syringe has a longer needle attached than the last. One inch, two inch, three inch… It looks like the adorable secretary is in for a long series of difficult, probing injections.

"Give me a couple of more clips here, Fiona…" the man demands. These he fastens to Alison's inner labia, drawing a squeak of shocked surprise from the terrified young woman, and stretches them out to the sides, tying them to the straps of her garter so that they are held open widely. Slate then takes his left hand and presses down firmly on the blonde's belly as is quakes in fear, holding her steady, the hypodermic between the fingers of his other hand as he holds it up where she can see it. "Hold still, Alison," he warns her seriously… "I wouldn't want to injure you." He lowers his hand between her legs, bringing the syringe up between the lips of her slit. The frightened and trembling girl can no longer see what he is doing. Suddenly, she feels the ultra-sharp point of the needle right there, just underneath her ultra-sensitive clipped clit. Oh Goddd… the young lovely holds her breath.

Tied and fastened as she is, her whole inner workings are exposed to him, her inner labia spread wide, the coral-colored entrance to her vagina pried open for his inspection. With a quick thrust, Slate sinks the half-inch needle into Alison's quivering clit shaft from underneath, spearing it right through the middle. The girl lets out her breath in a whooshing gasp. It doesn't hurt as much as she thought, but she is scared… very, very scared. She can feel the sharp point of the needle buried inside her most sensitive area just behind the head of her clit. "How do you like having my needle in your twat?" Alison gazes down at him in shocked silence, mute with fear. Slate shifts his grip on the syringe to depress the glass plunger, injecting about half of the clear liquid dynamite into the terrified girl, frowning in intent concentration as he works. Immediately a warm tingling starts to spread through her throbbing nerve endings where the lance has penetrated her. After a few seconds, the girl can hardly feel the bite of the clip on her tender joy button any more. She is still aware of the needle piercing her, but the sharp stinging pain has been replaced by a pleasant warm throbbing and a vague feeling of fullness. Slate withdraws the needle slightly, then probes again, injecting more drugs to the left and right of where he put the first batch, looking for new and more sensitive spots. The area begins to swell slightly.

Alison closes her eyes and lays her head back against the pillows behind her as she feels the hot tingling excitement radiating up within her belly from her punctured pussy and Slate withdraws the first syringe, now empty. Her sphincter reflexively clenches and milks on the long black appliance still fastened deep up her ass. Her master takes another of the syringes Fiona has filled for him, with a longer one inch needle, still in 25 gauge. Bending down to his work, he slowly threads it up and into her swollen and throbbing clit shaft from underneath, not stopping until the chrome nut at the base of the needle bumps up against her hot little joy button. The surgically sharp point is now buried somewhere behind her clit hood, where the tight little bundle of nerves originates within her body. Admiring the contrast between the hard steeliness of the needle violating her and the soft smooth pinkness of the girl's pierced sex flesh, he slowly squeezes plenty of solution in there, seeking the root. As before, he pulls about half the length of the needle back out of her and stabs it home again this way and that, skewering her clit on the length of it, injecting more drugs as he goes like a dentist does inside your gums. He empties the syringe, finally pulling the needle free and tossing it aside, then goes for another with a terrifying two inch lance. Alison's whole clit and the top of her pussy are now pulsing with heat, sparkling scintillas of excitement running up and down her spine and mixing with a warm dreamy glow that builds inside her. She looks more relaxed now, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open… He stabs the third syringe into her, two inches of chrome moly steel spearing up, up behind her clitoral shaft, seeking new places deeper inside her that haven't been touched yet, new nerve endings and places Alison never believed could be touched from the outside. Slate can tell by her gasps when his probing lance touches a still sensitive area and her sighs when the drugs flow into it. With the point of the shining hypodermic buried so deep inside her quivering cunt, Alison feels like the drugs are going straight up into her brain. She is beyond thinking now, beyond worrying about anything as she is totally riveted by the sensation of the steel shaft moving within her and the drugs flowing from it, making mindless OOOHs and OHHHs. By the time Slate squeezes the third syringe empty, Alison feels like she is going to fly off into outer space, a dizzying rush shooting through her. He pulls the instrument free from her engorged pussy flesh, removing the two inch needle from the now empty syringe. Then he carefully removes the clip from the spaced-out blonde's clit, leaving her labia still spread. Taking the girl's swollen joy button between his fingers, he thrusts the gleaming needle right through it from underneath, skewering her. Alison moans, dimly aware of what he has done but feeling little pain. Just enough… just enough to be exciting. Why oh why does it hurt so good… Why does the intensity of the fear that she feels just make her wetter and ache to be fucked, make her plugged rectum spasm and cling adoringly to the black intruder violating it?

Slate takes another, larger syringe, like a 10cc with a three inch needle, full to the brim with liquid nitro and goes to work lower down… The girl feels his fingers prying open the ragged entrance to her wide open vagina. Oh no not in there not in there… she barely has time to think this before she feels the cold point scraping at the delicate inner walls inside her. Again and again Slate jabs the steely intruder more deeply into her internal passageway, squeezing out more and more solution as he goes, until the body of the syringe is half buried inside her hot wet squishy hole. Pulling back a bit and checking the angle, he drives the whole thing straight up inside her until the long needle is penetrating an inch or two into her dimpled cervix. Then he leisurely unloads the remaining half of the contents of the big syringe right into her womb as her moist pink membranes grip the glass around its base. As more and more narcotics explode in her brain, the submissive young secretary is hovering somewhere in never never land. Her whole torso from the waist down is glowing and tingling, inside and out. "Maybe we better give this little twist a minute or two to come back to earth…" sez Fiona. Slate agrees and removes the clips from her labia, finally allowing her hairless vulva to close around the two inch needle still piercing her clit. He swabs off the visible puncture marks. They reach up and finally untie the blonde's legs from up there around her ears and stretch her still blackly-corseted body out flat on the bed, fastening her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed so that she is spread-eagled. They remove the clamps from her nipples, which now look quite red and sore. Within a few minutes the girl begins to stir feebly. Slate sips his Glenfiddich, sitting on Alison's vanity stool. His "personal assistant" decides she could use a little pick-me-up herself.

Fiona fills another syringe with uncut liquid ecstasy and peels off her hotpants and panties, sitting down in the high wing-type armchair in the corner, throwing her legs over the arms. "Help me out here, lover… it's so much better when you do it…" she coos at Slate. He kneels between her spread legs and she hands him the hypodermic. He roughly shoves a finger up her twat. She pouts down at him provocatively. Slate jabs the hypo into her outer pussylip, searching for a vein. A little blood flows back into the syringe and he presses it home, booting it in there. Fiona rocks back and forth on his finger, letting her head fall back in the high armchair as the drugs hit home.

A dopey relaxed look comes over her face. Slate pulls the needle out of her cunt and his finger from her hot hole. "Don't get too comfortable… we still have work to do," he observes, looking over at the bound Alison who is now coming to a little and starting to wiggle around on the bed, opening her eyes. She is still very very stoned, plugged and pierced. Slate gets up and stands over her, still fully clothed. "Are you sure you don't want some of this stuff?" asks Fiona. "Nah… that shit's for losers and whores."

"Our little trainee is getting anxious…" he tells Fiona. "She's not getting enough attention. Bring me the rest of that stuff… It's time to get to work on those beautiful tits…" First they fill a couple of small syringes with short needles. One of them sits on each side of Alison, each holding one of the bound girl's breasts, pushing down the corset cups so that her reddened and sore nipples are exposed. Pinching them up firmly, they insert the needles several times around the circumference of her aureoles, searching out the nerve behind, stabbing and tickling it, all the while squirting more liquid warmth into her. Alison writhes in her manacles, gasping, the plug working within her ass as her buttocks clench, the faint pain from her pierced clit sending lightning jolts up to her brain. "Please… please… please… she starts to beg incoherently. "Fiona, go gag this bitch," says Slate… "She's starting to get on my nerves." The dark-haired girl returns with a black penis-gag about four inches long and as thick as a cucumber. She forces her roommate to open her mouth and swallow it, then buckles it firmly around the back of her neck. "URK… URK… URK…" Says Alison.

"That sounds better…" says Slate. Meanwhile, he is reaching for, you guessed it, bigger syringes and longer needles. He fills them with the remaining drug solution and really goes to work on her breasts. He and Fiona stab them straight into the tips of her tender pink nippies, driving them in there a quarter of an inch at a time and squeezing out more and more narcotic/stimulant as they go. By the time they are done and the two big syringes are empty, the two long needles are buried to the hilt in her tempting tits, the chrome nubs pressed up against the very tips of her nipples and both of Alison's breasts are glowing globes of liquid ecstasy. Slate unscrews the syringes from the needles, leaving them buried in her flesh. Tears are running down the little blonde's face as she watches this fiendish procedure. It's not so much the pain as the idea of it… She knows her life will never be the same. "How do you like having your nipples and pussy pierced?" Slate taunts her. "URK…URK… URK…" is all she can say. "Well, you better get used to it… just wait until you are ringed. Then you'll never be able to forget that you're my slave. But best to let a professional install them… I'll have Fiona make an appointment for you. Would you like that?" "URK… URK… URK…." "Don't worry, honey," Fiona pipes up, "They only hurt for the first couple of weeks."

Alison closes her eyes, unable to bear looking at what has been done to her. Lying there bound and corseted, gagged drugged and pierced, she realizes that for her life as she knows it is over… there will be no going back. She has already gone too far. Her erstwhile employer intends to keep her like this, controlling every aspect of her existence from now on, and it appears that he actually has the power and the will to do so. She is fearful, yet still strangely excited at the prospect, realizing that in the end it doesn't really matter how she feels about it. It's a done deal. Her every waking moment will be supervised… she will wear what he says, go where he says, do what he says with whoever he tells her to do it with. It's so humiliating. Maybe it's just the drugs that seem to paralyze her will, but right now she has no regrets… right now she feels girlishly docile, anxious but excited thinking of the days to come. She will try to be obedient for him. Doubtless she will be punished anyway.

Slate finally withdraws the needles thrust into her punctured tits and pussy. He doesn't want to stick himself on them when he fucks her. Alison whimpers as he pulls them out slowly, the skin drawing out with them as if reluctant to let them go, and tosses them aside on the silver tray. Her swollen clit throbs dully where it has been skewered, achingly sensitive to the slightest touch. "Fiona, get down there…" Slate commands as he removes the choking penis gag which drips with Alison's saliva. The submissive blonde works her jaws for a moment, happy to be able to move them again. Slate stands over her, looking down into her eyes as Fiona crawls up between her spread-eagled legs, gently spreading her vulva and fastening her lips on the adorable girl's painfully abused and erect clitoris. She sucks it between her teeth, tickling and soothing it with the tip of her tongue. The shaved secretary's hips buck up and down involuntarily as she gasps and moans. She has never felt more thrillingly responsive. "Want me to fuck you now, Alison?" Slate asks as he starts pulling off his slacks. In fact, she's been thinking of nothing else since the moment he walked into the living room, she admits to herself. But how can she tell him that? She drops her eyes shyly, unable to speak, her throat constricted. Finally she finds her voice… " I… I'm yours, sir…. You can do anything you want to me…" she replies. "That's not what I asked you, you stupid cunt." So he wants her to beg.

Alison stares up at him worshipfully as he strips before her. His body is trim, muscular and hairy, smelling slightly of English Leather or something like that. His massively erect cock springs free as he pulls off his shorts, socks and shoes. Maybe not quite as long as Leroy's but it might be a shade thicker… at least twice the size of her pencil-dick boyfriend Tom. It will be a struggle to fit it all inside her, she knows, but it's the kind of struggle she looks forward to losing. Slate will make it fit. Of that she has no doubt. Fiona's tongue is still working on her, making her squirm and release a flood of juices, her asshole squishing around the long black plug still installed within her. The smell of her spasming cunt permeates the room… how can she deny it? "Please, sir…" she begs him, "Please fuck me…" There, she said it. "Go on, Alison, he commands her… "How should I fuck you?" "Fuck me hard, sir… as hard as you can. Don't stop no matter what I say. Make me come and come and come… I want to come with your big dick inside mee…" "And where should I fuck you, Alison?" "Anywhere you want. Sir.. In my pussy… up my ass… in my mouth… all three if you wish. I… I need it that way… to be fucked and fucked and fucked… Make me your slave girl, your whore… make me your slave girl and never let me go…."

Satisfied with this confession, Slate shoos the slurping Fiona away from the bound blonde's slippery little nookie, lowering himself on top of her as she looks up at him with an expression of total subservience and trust. "Don't worry, you hot little cunt… you're not going anywhere… at least not for a long while." He tells Fiona to release the girl's ankles from their spread-eagled position, pushing her knees up until her legs are once again spread widely and her wet little cunt is at a better angle for penetration. Fisting his king-sized knob, he brings it up between her smooth wet pussy lips, spreading her. Then with a single thrust, he buries the entire length of his hot hairy organ to the hilt in her tight hairless little honeypot. "UNHHHH… UNGHHHH…" Alison cries out as he drives into her relentlessly, feeling every inch of his thick veiny dick as it twitches inside her, stretching her, hurting her, banging with brutish force at the mouth of her womb. She can feel his thick cock rubbing against the long black rubber shaft that still violates her ass through the thin membrane that separates them. It certainly is a novel sensation… she never dreamed that having her butt plugged could make fucking feel so savagely intense. He can feel it too, making her cunt extra tight for him. He enjoys making her wear it, knowing he put it there, exerting his power over her…

For a moment he just savors the moment, the sensation of having his turgid manmeat buried to the hilt in her hot little box for the first time. Then he starts to fuck. At first he goes slow, making her feel every inch of it, teasing her. As she loosens up a bit, he starts pounding her harder and harder until he's going like a fucking jackhammer, his hard belly smacking up against her sweetly shaved mound on every thrust. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. UNH UNH UNH. The girl grunts with every thrust, involuntarily raising her knees up higher to grant him easier access, the drugs still flowing through her bloodstream helping to keep her docile and responsive. The grinding of his belly against her tortured and upthrust clit, the relentless pounding of his cockhead against the back wall of her cunt, the friction of his his throbbing hot shaft against the thick intruder stuffed up her behind conspire to push her over the edge. She's coming… coming in her pussy and up her ass… in her pussy and up her ass… clenching convulsively on the twin instruments that impale her, sobbing and blubbering in joy and submission. "Yeah, come for me, you little bitch… come for me!" her master demands, taunting her. Gradually, her spasms subside and he withdraws his still rock-hard unit from her depths, wet with her secretions. He has been careful not to come yet.

Slate looks over at Fiona, who has been taking all of this in, her legs still draped over the sides of the armchair, idly fingering her twat. "Should make a hellava tape, Boss… I knew our little Alison had star quality…" "Yeah but the best part is yet to come… lets get her turned over…" says the dominant exec. "I want her up on her hands and knees." Oh no here it comes, thinks the delicious young blonde, shivering, remembering Slate's promise. He's going to fuck me up my ass. She knows he'll do it hard, hurting her with his big dick as he said he would. Still, she's anxious to complete the act, wanting him to possess her totally, breaking her to his will, remembering the deeply submissive fulfillment she felt when Leroy shot his steaming load up her bowels there in the elevator. And she didn't even like him. Hell, she's halfway there already as her scared little sphincter twitches around the rubbery plug filling it. She allows Slate's hands to guide her as he and Fiona roll her over on her belly, unclipping her manacles from the posts at the top of the bed and fastening them together in front of her and connecting them to her collar with a short chain. Alison rests her weight on her elbows and knees and compliantly raises her backside up, getting her legs up underneath her. "A little higher, sweetcheeks…" Once he has her properly positioned, Slate fastens her hands once more to the ring in the center of the headboard as Fiona fixes her ankles to more rings mounted in the side rails of the bed, keeping her immobilized in this frog-like position. Slate gazes down in satisfaction at his little slave girl trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her face is down, her ass raised up invitingly…

"We don't want her pussy to feel neglected.." he says, "Give her a couple of those buzz balls to play with." Fiona goes to the chest in the corner and selects a couple of shining chrome vibrator balls about an inch around, connected to a hand control with a little wire. Reaching up underneath the enslaved secretary, she inserts them deep inside her tender slit, handing the control to Slate. Suddenly, Alison feels a buzzing inside her, tickling her clit from the inside and vibrating against the plug that has been stuck up her ass for an hour now. OOOH OOOOOOH AAAHHHH she moans deliciously. Slate unfastens the little straps that hold the butt plug in place, and slowly it slides out of her, repelled by the natural clenching action of her colon, and falls onto the bed with a plop. It is slimy with ass-goo and Fiona quickly takes it away, returning with an applicator full of lube. This she inserts into her trembling roommate's well-stretched rectum, pushing the plunger to inject the warm creamy lubricant into her slick anal passage. "She's ready for you, boss… come and get it," she tells the steely- eyed construction exec. Alison's heart is in her mouth, her pulse pounding in her temples, her eyes closed and her lips parted. It won't be long now…

Slate kneels on the bed behind her, moving up between her legs. He grabs the laces of the corset at the bottom, holding her steady, the tip of his erection grazing her buttocks as the chrome balls buzz merrily in her cunt, the controller dangling from her pink pussylips by its little wire. Faint traces of Leroy's belt can still be seen across the girl's ivory white asscheeks. Slate remarks that he likes to see her marked in this way, and that he intends to make sure that some sign of punishment is always visible upon her body. Accordingly, she will be whipped every day, regardless of how she behaves. Although he looks forward to hearing her screams, this treatment is really more for her enlightenment than for his pleasure. That she might know and understand, through her suffering, that she is wholly dedicated to a will other than her own. There's still nothing like a good whipping to instill the proper attitude in slave girls, and little sluts like her deserve to be punished. Of course, any hesitation to obey on her part will be dealt with on the spot, apart from her more formal or ritualized whippings every evening. He reminds her that the whole apartment is soundproofed, and that in any case her only neighbors are in his employ. If her screams or pleadings should become too annoying, she can easily be gagged. Alison kneels there abjectly, his words ringing in her ears as the broad head of his cock tickles the entrance to her tight pink little rectum and she waits passively for him to penetrate her. He is keeping her in suspense. So she is to be whipped… It only seems fitting. Much as she fears it, she realizes that she wants, even needs to be punished for her sick desires… for her shameful lack of control. She realizes that she is waiting more eagerly than he for the moment when his big dick is buried in her bowels. Bad girl…

His speechifying over, Slate returns to the business at hand. Still grasping the laces of the corset like reins in his left hand, he fists his purplish knob with the other and presses forward with his hips, grinding himself into her tight wrinkled anal ring, opening her wider… wider… Alison clenches and grits her teeth, her face all scrunched up in concentration and pain. Even though she's been well lubricated and stretched by the plug she's been wearing, it's still quite a struggle to fit his massive thickness in there. MMMMMMNNNNNNNN…UNGHHHH! The trussed-up cutie lets out a shrill scream as the wide head of his manly member finally pops inside her rear entrance, rattling the chains that hold her to the bed as she squirms ineffectually. Slate looks down at the blonde's dark pink anal membranes stretched around him as tightly as the strings of a tennis racket, smiling in satisfaction. So far so good… only nine more inches to go. He bores in there, driving hard into the softer and more elastic flesh of her bowels, pulling her back onto him by the reins, forcing his way deeper… deeper… an inch at a time, not stopping or giving her time to adjust until the full length of it is buried in her to the root and her trembling white asscheeks are pressed up hard against his belly. The sexy receptionist gasps, whimpers and sobs, fat tears squeezing out of the corners of her tightly closed eyes. It hurts… oh god it hurts… how could she have thought she wanted this? Her squishy inner ass muscles work around his shaft, doing their best to push out this burning intrusion, but succeed only in caressing his shaft sensuously, adoringly.

Gradually, the ring of muscle at the mouth of her rectum begins to relax and loosen, finally exhausted and giving up the fight. Alison shifts her hips this way and that, trying to ease the pressure and make room inside herself for his fat sodomizing tool, surrendering herself to the fact that he's not going anywhere except deeper up her hot behind. Once again she becomes aware of the slippery chrome balls buzzing away inside her slit, stimulating her super-sensitive little clit from inside and causing the big dick that spears her to vibrate in sympathy. OOOOOOOOHHH she moans as a wave of hot pussy-passion rolls over her, causing her to involuntarily tighten herself around his hot throbbing manmeat. Slate smirks to himself. "Yeah, take it you slutty little slave-bitch. Take it up the ass…" Alison's ears burn in shame as he cruelly taunts her. Now that he's got her where he wants her, he reaches up with his both hands to grab her on either side of her tightly-constricted waist, forcing her buttocks down harder on his rock-hard truncheon, stirring it around inside her like a mortar and pestle. The lovely blonde's mouth is hanging open, a thin stream of drool wetting the pillow underneath her head as she whinnies, whines and coos.

Holding her tightly by the hips, he slowly starts working himself in and out of her, going a little further, a little faster and harder with each stroke, making her grunt each time he slams it home to the deepest depths of her loosening anal cavity. Soon he is moving smoothly and easily, the little muscles inside her fluttering around his pistoning cock like excited butterflies. "Yeah you like big dicks up your ass, don't you, slut…" Alison burbles incoherently. Every time he speaks to her that way, her spasming butt hole reflexively tightens around him. "Answer me, bitch…" he commands. "Yesss… yesss…" He slaps her butt. Yes what? "Yes sir…" Yes sir what? "Yes sir, Master…" the bound blonde answers submissively. "Yes sir, Master… I love big dicks up my assss… I… ungh… love… ungh… your… ungh… big… ungh… dick… ungh… up… ungh… my… ungh… asssss…." "That's good," Slate replies, satisfied for the moment with her halting confession. "That's good because you're going to get your ass fucked a lot from now on… and not just by me." A little vein pulses in his temple and sweat beads his forhead as he slams his dominating dick harder and faster into the drugged and defenseless girl's adorable tush.

She pushes herself back against him, opening herself fully, wanting to be good for him. He can feel the benwa balls buzzing inside her too, tickling the underside of his pecker and making his balls tighten up, making him want to shoot his wad. SMACKASMACKASMACKASMACKASMACKASMACKA… The sounds of his hips bouncing forcefully off her butt cheeks mingle with the squishing and felching of his cock driving in and out of her and the grunts, moans and squeals of the sodomized blonde. The smells of hot cunt and anal mucosa fill the room. Suddenly he can hold out no longer… He pulls the girl tightly to him, holding her immobile as jet after jet of hot steaming sperm erupts form his throbbing member into the deepest recesses of her writhing bowels. When she feels the heat of his burning come splashing inside her sadistically stretched rectum Alison loses it, bucking and humping wildly as a series of intense orgasms convulses her, clamping her asshole down on him like a vise, wringing the last drops of jism from his pulsating prick. He leaves it there inside her as it slowly deflates, finally popping out of her with a gush of pinkish froth as they both pant to catch their breath. So he has made her bleed inside… Good.

"Fiona, get over here, you lazy bitch… Get this little cunt cleaned up," he orders. Although this is hardly her favorite part of her job, the brunette obeys immediately, knowing her boss can turn from relaxed gentleman to venomous snake in a heartbeat. The sensual-looking brunette kneels between Alison's legs on the bed, taking Slate's place on the bed as he sinks into the chair and lights a cigarette. Bending over to her task, she takes the tip of her pointy pink tongue to her luscious roommate's hindquarters, licking and slurping up the come that oozes from her still spasming asshole. When the submissive secretary's butt is squeaky clean and shining with her saliva, Fiona steps back off the bed to release the bound girl's legs, finally allowing her to stretch out. She turns the girl over so that she's lying on her back. After turning off the vibrating balls, Fiona gently pulls them out by the wire attached to the little control, and goes to work on the bound babe's smoothly shaved nookie. Alison squirms slightly, enjoying her tongue bath, still dazed from the drugs and the brutal fucking she has received. When she is done, Fiona looks up at Slate, who sits there impassively sipping his scotch. "Service with a smile, boss…" she says, grinning, her face coated with Alison's girlish secretions. She knows better than to argue with one of his commands. There are still three big ugly bruisers down the hall who would be happy to put her in her roommate's place in an instant, not that her boss would need the help. She kneels in front of Slate's chair to perform the same service for him.

When Slate signals to her that she is done with a dismissive wave of his hand, Fiona rises and unclips the chain fastening the bound girl to the headboard, leaving her hands cuffed to the ring in her collar. She unbuckles the belt around Alison's middle and loosens the laces of her corset a couple of inches. "There… that should be enough…" she says, tying them again. "Now you can rest for a while." She removes the blonde's high-heeled pumps, unfastening the dangling black earrings from her lobes but leaving the two little diamond studs above them in place. She pulls a coverlet up over the girl's black stockinged legs.

"I… I have to go to the bathroom…" sez Alison meekly. Fiona helps her to get up and leads her through the door to the bathroom that they both share, connecting their two rooms, and sits her down on the toilet seat. Slate eyes them through the open door. "Are you going to watch me?" she asks them hesitantly. "Better get used to it, honey…" says Fiona. Alison flushes with embarrassment, remembering the tapes she has already seen, the cameras she knows are hidden somewhere behind the mirrored walls. She feels suddenly inhibited, uptight. Slate rises and comes into the room, standing over her as she squats. "Go ahead and piss, you little bitch…" he commands her. "I… I can't…" the sweet blonde whimpers. Slate slaps her face. "I said piss!" He slaps her again. Red-faced and sniveling, Alison is unable to hold back the stream of water that flows from her body. She burns in humiliation as the man stands over her. With her cuffed hands fastened to her neck like this there's no way for her to wipe herself. Fiona has to do it for her. Finally they help her up and guide her back to the bed, once more fastening her to the headboard, but with a slightly longer length of chain to allow her to roll over in her sleep, etc. Alison curls up on her side in a fetal position as they cover her. Slate reaches down to briefly caress her crack. She gazes back up at him with abject servility. "You'd better get some rest… You've got a big day tomorrow." They leave the room, turning out the light. "Sweet dreams, slave girl."

Lying there in the dark, hearing the faint sounds of voices and laughter from the living room of the apartment, the former receptionist finds her mind drifting anxiously over the events of the last two days… two days of strange new experiences, a dizzying frightening mix of pain and pleasure, ecstasy and torture. She can scarcely believe that her life has changed so much in such a short period of time. She is conscious of the bareness of her shaved mound that makes her feel girlish, innocent and defenseless. She tests the cuffs holding her wrists and neck, making the chains rattle, feeling the corset still constricting her… there's no escaping them. Does he really intend to keep her like this forever? Why does the very idea of being bound seem to make her wet between the legs, readying herself for penetration? The treatment she has received, which by rights should have left her angry and desperate to escape, seems instead to have filled her with a terrible, fearful excitement and a weak-kneed, languorous passivity. In spite of the soreness of her body, she knows that she would happily give herself to Slate again in an instant, should he walk back into the room. She sees herself again groveling and begging him with disgusting servility to fuck her harder up the ass… Why is it that the more he hurts and humiliates her, the more she loves him, the more shamefully anxious she is to obey him? Where is her pride… her dignity… her resolve? He must be right about her… she's just a worthless little slut who deserves to be punished. Punished… whipped every day like a slave.

Alison sees herself again as she was in her dream, tied to the post by her wrists, ankles and belly as the shadowy figure behind her raises his arm… imagines the crack of the lash across her soft white backside… the very thought makes her squirm beneath the covers and her heart pound loudly in her chest. Tomorrow… tomorrow it will begin. She remembers the needles… the shining steel that pierced her so deeply in her most sensitive feminine places, the cold sharp feeling of the long thin lances probing inside her clit and up her pussy, seeking out her deepest nerve endings, the drugs flowing into her that reduced her to a mindless, obedient receptacle, wanting only to come and come. There will be more needles, of that she is sure… More plugs, too. Once again she envisions the monstrous black rubber phallus he showed her, with its wicked little straps dangling. Size eighteen. Sees herself once again subserviently down on her hands and knees taking it for her master… taking it and loving it. Loving it in spite of the terror, the agony and shame… or perhaps even because of it. Alison bites her lips in anguish, hating herself for her weakness and need, hating her womanly body for betraying her again and again, almost looking forward to the harsh discipline she knows is coming as an expiation for her guilt. She feels as though she's been strapped into a wild emotional roller-coaster ride that has no end. Finally, exhausted beyond measure by the events of the day, she ceases tormenting herself and slips off into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER THREE

Alison awakens bright and early the next morning, momentarily disoriented to find herself still cuffed to the bed, chained and corseted, albeit not so tightly as to be terribly uncomfortable. In a horrifying flash she recalls the events of the previous day and a bolt of absolute terror runs through her. The beautiful blonde quickly determines that today she will have to find a way to escape. She is still pretty sore and hung-over, and very hungry. Also she has an urgent need to urinate. Swallowing her pride for the moment, she calls out to her roommate who she hears bustling around in the kitchen, filling the apartment with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee.

"Fiona come help me… Please you've got to let me loose I have to pee… please hurry…"

After a moment, her roommate comes into the room, carrying a tray with coffee, juice, eggs and toast, setting it down on the bedside table. "So our little trainee has to go pee pee…" Fiona smirks, "First I think we better get a few things straight." The brunette is dressed already, rather bizarrely, in a black catsuit, high-heeled boots, and long black rubber gloves. Around her waist is a thick leather belt from which various implements are hung… a ring of keys, the little black beeper she can use to summon assistance, and a short black leather quirt or whip about 18 inches long. Fiona's long dark wavy hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail and the expression on her face is serious. She sits down on the bed next to Alison and explains that she has been left in charge of the girl for the morning, and indeed whenever the master of the house is not present. It will be her job to get Alison ready for the afternoon's entertainment, whatever that might be, according to Slate's instructions. Since she herself will be punished for any failures or lack of preparation on Alison's part, she had best not have any illusions about their relationship. If Alison refuses to obey or even moves too slowly, that's what the black quirt is for. Fiona will be happy to provide some encouragement. She herself has been where her roommate is at now, and has no desire to return to her former status. Accordingly, whenever they are alone together in the apartment, she will be addressed as Mistress Fiona, just to keep Alison constantly aware of her place.

"Do we understand each other?" The luscious blonde squirms with the urgency of her need to go to the bathroom as she is forced to listen to this long-winded lecture. It's so humilitating to have to ask permission just to go to the bathroom. "Yes, Mistress Fiona… whatever you say… I understand." Alison mumbles, choking on the words. She hates her snake-in-the-grass roommate more than ever, and hates herself for giving in already, but she cannot fight the call of nature. Her feelings are not lost on Fiona, who eyes her with amusement. It's so much more fun when they're a little unwilling.

Finally, the sultry brunette unlocks the chain fastening Alison to the headboard, allowing the girl to sit up. She fixes a one foot length of chain to the cuffs still fastened to the blonde's ankles, and attaches a four foot leash to the ring in the front of her collar. "Just in case you were thinking of trying to run off anywhere…" She leads her statuesque roommate like a dog to the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet and allowing her to finally relieve herself. When she has finished her business, her wardress leads her back to the bedroom and tells her to hurry up and eat her breakfast, they have a tight schedule to keep. The captive receptionist eats ravenously, still feeling very stiff and sore as Fiona gets up an goes back to the bathroom. Her hands are still cuffed together in front of her. From inside she hears the sound of running water. After a few moments the dark-haired girl returns, holding a small silver shrink-wrapped package in her hand. "I think I know how you're feeling, honey. This will help." She unwraps a couple of white waxy suppositories, about an inch long and rounded at one end. Some sort of pain-killers, no doubt. "Turn over on your tummy, sweetie…"

For a moment, Alison considers putting up a struggle… the last thing she wants right now is more drugs. She's got to keep her wits about her, remain focused if she wants to attempt an escape. At least the throbbing soreness she feels in her private parts helps to keep her alert and motivated. Sensing the girl's reluctance, Fiona warns her… "Do you want me to get Tony to lend a hand?" Her finger is on the red button of the beeper. The idea of that overgrown gorilla participating in her humiliation gives Alison pause. Maybe now is not the time. With a sigh the cuffed blonde rolls over, exposing her well-formed rear. The marks of Leroy's belt whipping have mostly faded by now, her ivory white buttocks looking smooth, soft and temptingly umblemished where they jut out temptingly from beneath the back of the patent-leather corset. Fiona clips her wrists back to the headboard, stretching her arms up over her head, removing the chain from between her ankles and forcing them apart. Alison feels rubber-gloved hands prying her apen, separating her cheeks, teasing her tight rectal dot. Involuntarily, she tenses, squeezing her butt together tightly. "Relax, honey… loosen up…" her wardress commands her. Alison grits her teeth. "Can't I just take a pill? Why do you have to… " WHAPP! She feels a streak of fiery pain burn across her contracted tush. Her captor has struck her with the quirt. "You forgot to address me by my title…" hisses the black-haired bitch. "What is it?" "Yes Mistress… Yes, Mistress Fiona…" the tied up blonde stammers quickly. A single dark pink stripe now decorates her tempting behind. "You know I just adore whipping asses…" says her evil roommate with a smile, "…And yours is just made for it. You look so cute with that welt across your cheeks… are you sure you wouldn't like another?" "No, Mistress Fiona… Please Mistress Fiona…" grovels Alison. There that's better… now we know who's boss.

The shackled secretary forces herself to relax as Fiona once more pries her open, smearing a little lube around before inserting one of the waxy white suppositories in the girl's abused and slightly swollen rectum, pushing it up there good and deep with a slender rubber-gloved forefinger. "Now raise your hips up for me, blondie…" she orders the shamed cutie, working the other suppository up Alison's tight hairless quim as she obediently opens herself further, still feeling the sting of the lash. "There… all done." Fiona remarks, withdrawing her probing finger and slapping her playfully on the butt. The brunette then gets up and goes back to the bathroom, turning off the water which has been filling the king-sized tub. Alison hears the gurgling sounds of some kind of container being filled as she lies there waiting face down on the bed. Within a few minutes she feels the throbbing soreness of her sensitive membranes being replaced by a warm comforting glow as the suppositories melt inside her and are absorbed, soothing her and sending warm relaxing messages rushing through her bloodstream and up to her brain. By the time Fiona returns to the bedroom, her little trainee is feeling vaguely buzzed and dreamily compliant, her eyelids half closed. "See, I told you you'd feel better… Mistress knows best. Now let's go and get you cleaned up…" Fiona quickly strips the girl, untying and removing the tight leather corset, removing her ankle cuffs and pulling the laddered and ruined stockings off her legs and throwing them in the trash. She then unties her manacled wrists from the headboard and leads her naked and now much more docile charge back into the bathroom by the leash still attached to her collar.

Once inside, the lovely captive is allowed to brush her teeth and gargle with mouthwash. Then Fiona sits her down on a white plastic chair and removes the smeared makeup that still remains on her face with cold cream. Alison sits quietly with a dreamy expression on her face, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed. Her rubber-gloved mistress then leads her to the tub and sits her down in the warm scented bubble bath. "Raise your arms up for me honey…" The sweetly-shaved secretary passively allows her dark-haired roommate to manipulate her this way and that, soaping her thoroughly all over with a soft sponge and washing her long silky blonde hair, finally tying it up in a towel turban style. Fiona pulls the plug and empties the tub, leaving the mildly doped-up blonde sitting there.

"Well now you're all clean on the outside… It's time to get to work on the inside…" the depraved brunette tells her brightly. What does she mean? Hanging on one of those wheeled poles they use in hospitals to hold IV solutions are two enema bags, one red and one black, both filled to the brim with steaming hot douche solution. So this is what Fiona was doing before. Hanging from the ends of the hoses are two unusually large nozzles, also black and red, resembling longish flexible plastic dildoes about an inch in diameter with rows of holes punched out in circles around them every half inch or so. Each of them is about a foot long. "Let's do the front first…" says her raven-haired captor, wheeling the pole over to the tub, a tube of jelly in her hand. "No Mistress, please… I really don't need to… Please Mistress Fiona really I'm fine… Please no…" Alison babbles, ever mindful of the little whip still hanging from her roommate's belt. "Now Alison, don't be difficult… I could always call Tony. I'm sure he'd be happy to help…" That's the last thing the naked blonde wants. She shuts up.

Pushing her cowed prisoner down on her back in the tub, Fiona crisply instructs her to spread her legs. To Alison, as she meekly complies, it seems like someone is always repeating that command. She closes her eyes and whimpers, not wanting to watch as her governess prods her hairless labia open with the lubed tip of the red plastic nozzle, pushing it inside her with a steady pressure until her widely spread inner lips are wrapped around the hilt. It's long enough to bump up against the back wall of her vagina. Fiona releases the clip on the hose and the captive receptionist's nookie is immediately flooded with very warm douche solution, making her flush. The stuff fills her up and trickles out of her past the flanged hilt of the nozzle, running down the drain. The kinky brunette does her job thoroughly, working the thick red nozzle around inside until the big red rubber bag hanging over them is drained. The whole process takes about two minutes. "So far, so good…" says Fiona. "Now for the fun part…"

The sultry dominatrix gets the increasingly anxious Alison up on her hands and knees in the tub, fastening her collar to a convenient ring mounted in the wall, then clipping her hands to the collar. All of Alison's weight is now on her knees and elbows, her head down and her ass up. Taking some more jelly on a rubber-gloved forefinger, she stuffs it up her roommate's helplessly trembling rectum, squishing it around inside. Then she smears some more jelly on the foot-long flexible black plastic nozzle that hangs from the other bag. With a quick flick of her wrist she shoves a couple of inches of it up her fettered captive's startled sphincter and into her quivering colon. Alison bites her lip to keep from crying out as her bizarrely-clad keeper slowly screws inch after inch of the thing up her backside. Because it is so smooth and flexible it penetrates her easily despite its thickness. Finally, all twelve inches of it are firmly lodged within her, her pinkish-grey asshole stretched around its base. "Now Alison, I want you to hold this…" her mistress instructs her. "If you spill even one drop before I tell you to release it, we'll just have to do the whole thing over again until you get it right, but I'll take my quirt to you first… Understand?" The buggered blonde whimpers her assent.

Fiona opens the clamp on the black rubber hose connecting the nozzle to the bag and steaming enema solution starts flowing into Alison. Sweat breaks out on the bound girl's forehead as the hot liquid fills her colon. She struggles to keep her anus gripping tightly around the base of the nozzle, not letting anything escape. With nowhere else to go, the stuff seeps deeper and deeper into her bowels, making her belly bloat and giving her cramps. Time seems to go on forever as the whole two quarts of steaming fluid empty into the helpless blonde's aching ass guts. She feels like she is going to explode in a torrent of filthy shit-water. Finally, the black rubber bag hangs empty and collapsed over their heads. Alison is groaning incoherently. "Remember what I said, sweetie… not one drop…" warns Fiona as she slowly withdraws the thick black nozzle.

Imagine the trussed-up cutie's surprise and dismay when her sadistic governess shoves a two-inch thick black rubber butt plug back up her straining ass hole. The thing is narrow at the tip, widening out in the center and then narrowing again before it flares out at the base, designed so that the natural clenching action of her sphincter will keep it securely in place. As a matter of fact, once Fiona stuffs it in there there's no way she can push it out on her own. The brunette then unfastens her roommate from the ring on the wall at the foot of the tub and, leaving her hands manacled to her collar pulls the young girl by the leash up out of the tub and over toward the toilet. "I bet you'd really like to go to the bathroom now, wouldn't you, Alison?" The tortured girl can barely move, gasping… "Please… please… please…" Fiona sits down on the commode, pushing the plugged blonde down onto her knees in front of her. She opens the snaps at the crotch of her catsuit, baring her trim black haired muff. "Suck my cunt until I come, you sniveling little slut… Do a good job or I'll take my whip to your hairless little pussy. Get your nose in there and lick it, bitch…!"

With tears running down her face from the agonizing cramps convulsing her, the humiliated receptionist buries her face in her former friend's gamey-smelling twat. Unlike Alison, Fiona has not bathed this morning, deliberately planning for this moment. The innocent-looking blonde's delicate nostrils wrinkle in disgust at the strong fishy smell of unwashed cunt. Nevertheless, she sets about her task energetically, impelled by the pressure within her, slurping and teasing her depraved guardian's clit with the tip of her pointy pink tongue. A smile of sluttish satisfaction spreads over Fiona's face as she bucks her hips up and down. "You've got a talented tongue, cutie… We'll have to do this more often. Maybe every day…" Alison laps and sucks feverishly, desperate for release. Fiona lets her head drop back, grabbing her captive by the ears and forcing her face hard into her widespread crotch, grunting with sadistic pleasure. Finally, her orgasm overtakes her, her fat pussy lips clamping down around the suffering slave-girl's tongue as she quivers and shakes, farting in Alison's tear streaked face, which is smeared with her secretions. "That's a good girl… I'll make a lesbian of you yet."

Eventually, the dark-haired woman gets up and makes room for her plugged-up prisoner on the toilet. Ominous gurglings and rumble inside her as Fiona reaches down and pulls the black butt-stopper out with a pop. Immediately, a great rushing gush of filthy-smelling liquidy shit and water explodes from the mortified blonde into the bowl as she hunches over, gasping in relief. On and on it squirts and spurts out of her, filling the room with the scent of her inner bowels, finally leaving her drained, pale and exhausted, shamed beyond belief. "That's what you call a punishment enema, honey. Don't blame me… the boss insisted I put it on the schedule." Alison is too weak to care as her sprays some air freshener around the room, wipes the pussy juice from the blonde's face with a soapy washcloth, then helps her up and washes off her splattered behind, leading the submissive receptionist back toward her bedroom by her collar and allowing her to collapse on the bed. "You rest for a while, cookie…" sez Fiona, fastening the girl's wrists to the chain still attached to the bed. "I'll fix you a little pick-me-up. Then we'll get you dressed."

It is now around ten in the morning. After a few minutes, Alison's guardian returns to the room bearing her silver tray and hypodermic gear. Meanwhile, the bound receptionist has somewhat returned to her senses and regained her strength. When she sees her mistress approaching her with a 5cc hypo in her hand, she cringes up toward the headboard of the bed. Fiona tries to reassure her. "Nothing too extreme, honey… just a little prick in the behind. Of course, I could always call the boys to come and hold you down…" the brunette fingers the red button on the beeper. "Be a good girl and just turn over on your tummy for me, will you?"

The sexy shaved secretary thinks it over for a minute… with her hands fettered to the bed like this, she can't put up much of a struggle. "I don't hear you, Alison…" snaps Fiona impatiently… "Do I have to whip your pussy?" "No, mistress… yes, mistress… I mean no mistress…" stammers the helpless blonde as she stretches out on her belly. Alison feels a cold swab on her softly trembling white buttock, then the jab of the needle and a slightly painful pressure as Fiona empties the syringe deep in her glutes. The familiar tingling warmth is soon spreading through her bloodstream again, up her spine to her brain making her feel sort of sleepily excited, docile and yet eager. Unconsciously she rubs her thighs together as she turns back over on the bed, awakening pleasant sensations in her stiffening little clit. This effect is not lost on Fiona, who puts aside the depleted hypo and reaches down with her rubber-gloved hand to toy with her captive's pink and hairless slit. "There… that's not so bad, is it?" "No, Mistress…" says Alison quietly through open and trembling lips, her eyes getting a misty and submissive look as her girlish little pussy starts moistening itself. The feel of the black rubber fingers on her smoothly-shaved mound is kind of weirdly exciting. She has totally forgotten about her half-baked plan to escape.

"Well, enough of this fooling around… we have a schedule to keep…" says the black-clad bitch, removing her hand from between the blonde's legs. We've got company coming for lunch and you've got to get dressed. I think pink today… you'll look pretty in pink. He likes them sweet and innocent…" Alison pouts in disappointment as her governess gets up from the bed, holding her by her manacled wrists. Those fingers were just starting to feel really good down there. Fiona leads her by the leash back to the doorway where once again her hands are fastened to the hook over her head, stretching her body taught beneath them so that her feet just barely reach the floor. She is still naked except for the towel wrapped around her hair and the air-conditioned atmosphere in the apartment is cool on her bare skin as she shivers slightly, getting goosebumps. Fiona goes to a tall dresser standing in the corner and pulls open some drawers, returning with a pair of sheer lacy-topped pale pink stockings and a new corset of pink and white floral patterned satin brocade. Alison's wardrobe has been completely restocked with a wide selection of such items. High heeled white slingbacks with built-in D rings on the ankle straps complete the ensemble. As her dark-haired keeper kneels in front of her to pull the shimmering extra-long stockings up to the tops of her thighs, the suspended blonde feels an anxious flutter in her belly…

Who is the He that's coming to lunch, that likes them so sweet and innocent? Does Fiona mean Slate… or someone else? What role will she be expected to play? What will he want from her… demand of her? Fiona stands up and wraps the corset around her, fastening the little hook-and-eye clasps in the front. Unlike the black number she wore yesterday, this corset has full bra cups and shoulder straps set off in white lace. Little circles of white lace also surround the cut-outs in the front of the cups where Alison's bright pink nipples jut through invitingly, and a fringe of white lace lines the bottom where it presses into her belly. The corset is cut higher in the back, leaving the lovely blonde's buttocks almost completely exposed, the white laces hanging down loosely between them in the back. The single red stripe left by her mistress' whip stands out starkly against their ivory whiteness. Fiona gets her captive into her five-inch heels, buckling the ankle straps as tightly as she can, then fastening them together with a short length of chain and a couple of clips. The shoes pinch the girl's toes tightly and the effort of balancing in them lends a certain muscle tone to her shapely legs and rear.

Circling around behind her, the sultry brunette gathers up the laces of the corset and begins to pull, forcing Alison's belly in and her chest up. If anything, this corset is even more restrictive than the one she had worn yesterday, with the potential to be drawn as tight as sixteen inches. Just because it is fabric instead of leather doesn't mean there's any more give in it. The dozen or more metal stays imbedded in the material help it retain its shape, molding and constricting the girl inside inexorable as Fiona works down the laces from the top, drawing the edges to within an inch of each other, finally tying them in a double knot at the small of the gasping

Alison's back. That's good enough for today… she doesn't want to injure the girl. With a day or two of practice she will soon be able to make them meet. Poor

Alison feels as though she is being squeezed in a giant fist, like maybe King Kong had got ahold of her around the waist. The blood pounds in the temples and down below where the corset ends as she is forced to take quick shallow breaths, her nipples fairly bursting through the little cutouts in the bra cups and bobbing up and down with the heaving of her bosom. Fiona lets her hang there for a minute, supporting some of her weight from her manacled wrists, as the severely corseted blonde's internal organs are forced to shift around and her body gradually remolds itself into the shape imposed upon it.

"That corset looks terrific on you, honey… I'm sure our guest will be pleased… and it does wonders for your posture." Finally, when it seems Alison is breathing a little more normally, the raven-haired vixen releases her fettered hands from the doorway above her head and leads her back to her white fur-covered vanity bench, the chain between her ankles jingling as she walks, sitting her down before the mirror. The sweetly-shaven little secretary is forced to sit up very very straight, the fur of the bench tickling her inner thighs. Although the constriction of the corset is not so severe as to be really painful, nevertheless it very much limits the blonde's freedom of movement, making her feel more than ever restricted and controlled. There is something in

Alison's feminine psyche that responds to this receptively, even pleasurably, once the initial discomfort has abated. Certainly the garment exaggerates her femaleness… the fullness of her bust, the slimness of her waist, the roundness of her hips and buttocks… and tends to concentrate her attention on those parts of her body which are left free, namely her tightening nipples that thrust provocatively through the holes in the lacy cups as if begging for attention and her nakedly attentive loins pressed against the fake fur beneath her. Her hands wiggle and twist anxiously in their cuffs. Once again Alison's body is betraying her, readying itself for penetration even as she struggles to recall her determination to escape. Already she feels as if she can barely remember the person she once was… cool, controlled and elusive.

"Did you know that I studied to be a beautician before I wound up working for Mr. Slate?" Fiona's question breaks into the fettered girl's reverie. "No, Mistress Fiona…" she answers meekly. "It will be a pleasure to have such a lovely face to work with…" sez the kinky brunette, bending over the make-up table and selecting the items she will need. First, she applies a very pale foundation, accentuating the whiteness of her bound rooommate's skin, giving it a good coat of powder on top to smooth it and make it set. Then she brushes two circles of pinkish blush onto her prisoner's smooth cheeks, not so much to bring out her already well-defined cheekbones as to create an almost doll-like effect. She darkens and shapes the girl's slender tapering brows with an eyebrow pencil.

Alison closes her eyes as her caretaker dabs on eyeshadow heavily, fading from pinkish purple at the inside of her lids to a medium darkish hue at the outside, making the blonde's bright blue eyes seem even bigger. She brushes on a thin line of liquid eyeliner above and below and out at the corners, further accentuating the doe-like effect. A couple coats of mascara transform the girl's eyelashes into a couple of fluttering butterflies. All she needs now is lipstick. Fiona takes a pink-magenta pencil and carefully outlines the shape of the docile slave's pouting lips, accentuating their fullness, and then paints in the shape she has outlined with a shiny dark pink lipstick of the type that dries quickly and will not wear off. Then she gives her an overcoat of gloss, blotting it with a tissue. The total effect is striking, if a bit over the top for normal daytime wear. But of course this is not a normal day, or at least it doesn't seem quite normal yet to Alison, although it seems like it soon would be.

Her blackly-suited mistress then takes out a blow drier and brush and goes to work on her captive's long ash-blonde tresses, removing the towel turban and using plenty of hairspray to fluff it up on top, pouffing up her bangs. Big hair, that's what the guys go for. When this is done, the dark-eyed brunette gathers a handful from the back of Alison's head into a topknot-ponytail, which she clips in place with a rather large and slightly silly-looking pink hair bow. The tightly-corseted blonde now looks almost like a caricature of the innocent helpless victim from some old Dudly Do-Right movie, the girl that the hero has to keep rescuing all the time. Only there's no hero in this movie to save her. Fiona steps back, admiring her handiwork. "Just a few accessories and you'll be done."

First the earrings… she rummages around in a jewelry box with several drawers. She selects a pair of long dangling pearl and silver ones, looking almost like miniature chandeliers. They are heavy, and hang down almost to the bound girl's shoulders. Then Fiona removes the two studs are still in place above them on each of the blonde's shell-like ears, replacing them with smaller versions of the same pearly design, each a little shorter than the last. They clink together like little chimes every time Alison moves her head, and she is very conscious of the weight of all this hardware hanging from her earlobes. Fiona reminds her still shackled roommate that Slate had promised to have her pierced, and this seems like a good time to start.

Taking one of those CO2-powered earring guns that they use in jewelry stores, the brunette punches two new pearl studs through the cartilage higher up along the edge of her roommate's translucent ear. Alison now has five holes in a neat row running up to just below the middle of her ears, which have never felt so stuffed with metal. "You will wear these as yet another sign of your submission…" her mistress instructs her. Tomorrow she will get two more, and two more the day after that until the entire circumference of her ear has been encircled with piercings. The fresh punctures burn and throb slightly, making the dolled-up blonde squirm ineffectually in her bonds, rattling the chains that hold her. Her outrageously displayed nipples and her still-tender clitoris seem to throb and harden in sympathy, suddenly remembering the long sharp needles driven into and through them.

Fiona gets Alison up from the vanity table and leads her by the leash back to the doorway, refastening her wrists to the hook over her head. Using a crystal atomizer with one of those rubber bulbs on the end she sprays the girl liberally with the musky floral perfume they had used yesterday, filling the atmosphere with the scent of delicate spring flowers mixed with cunt in heat. She perfumes the suspended secretary all over, finally kicking her legs apart to spray the stinging stuff up between her legs onto her shaved mound and into her asscrack. It burns as it dries, and Alison anxiously shifts her weight form foot to foot. "You know, that black collar and cuffs just don't match…" comments the dark-eyed dominatrix. "Let me find you something more appropriate…"

She goes and digs around in the trunk filled with bondage gear, returning with a pair of pink fingerless gloves trimmed in white lace, of the type that comes to a V over the top of the hand, and what appear to be a couple of wide faux-pearl bracelets and a choker of the same design. Unlike department store costume jewelry, however, these have a solid steel band underneath the pearl beading that locks, and a couple of conveniently mounted D rings. The metal is wrapped in thick white satin, padded on the inside, and the rings are painted white to blend in. These items are about an inch and a half wide, with the collar having a little cameo broach in the front, which upon closer inspection turns out to have a design of crossed whips upon it.

Removing the black leather collar from around Alison's slender throat, Fiona fastens the pearl one in its place, locking it securely. The perverse brunette then releases her captive's hands one at a time from the cuffs over her head, keeping the other hand manacled to the doorframe as she pulls the gloves up over the girl's forearms and snaps the matching wristbands in place, refastening one hand before she does the other. Alison is now outfitted entirely in pink and white, with just a few gleams of silver glinting from her earrings and the chain between her ankles. "Just hang out here a minute…" Fiona suggests sardonically as she turns back to the trunk… "There's just one or two more things I need to get." In fact, the beautiful blonde can do little else, anxiously twisting around in the steely grip of her pearly handcuffs.

A moment later, the dark-haired dominant returns, bearing in her hands a wide white patent leather bondage belt, studded with rings and buckles, and with an inch-wide strap hanging down in front to which are affixed two closely-set white plastic plugs about nine inches long and an inch and a half thick, shining with lubricant. In her other hand she holds a pair of silver screw-clips, adorned with pearls and connected with a foot long length of chain. Alison beholds these objects with dread. "Which one do you want first?" her captor inquires ironically. The frightened girl can't answer. "No… Please Mistress… no… no… no…" Fiona ignores this meaningless outburst and sets about fastening the thick white belt around her prisoner's tightly constricted waist, cinching the buckles securely. She then takes the strap which hangs down in front and brings it up between the whimpering blonde's legs, carefully inserting the twin plugs into her smoothly-shaved honeypot and twitching pink rectum. When she's got them screwed in there as far as they will go, the kinky brunette brings the strap up between the cheeks of Alison's well-formed ass, pulling it up tight to a buckle at the back of the belt right in the middle of her back. The narrow white strap is now pressed closely into the flesh of the manacled doll's most tender parts, bisecting her crotch in the front and back, holding the twin dildos firmly in place inside her.

The doubly-penetrated blonde shakes her hips in frustration, a fat tear of humiliation dripping from the corner of her eye. This just causes her defiantly erect and tinglingly sore clit to rub excitingly against the strap pressing down on it… Alison moans, her bright pink bow of a mouth open to reveal a couple of pearly white teeth, her lips trembling. "Don't worry, honey… you'll get used to it…" says Fiona. "The boss used to make me walk around the office like that all day, underneath my clothes. After a while I couldn't stop coming… it was embarrassing…" Indeed Alison is unable to keep her body from responding, her moist insides clenching rhythmically around the twin intruders as her clit throbs at constant attention. "Oh my goodness… it's almost noon. Our guest will be here any minute. There's just one more thing…" says her captor brightly.

The black-clad bitch brings up the silver and pearl screw-clips with the little connecting chain. "Accessories make the look, dear…" Fiona comments teasingly as she fastens first one and then the other of the devices to the suspended slave-girl's temptingly exposed and fearfully erect nipples, screwing them on just tightly enough to bite a little, letting the little silver chain between them hang. There's no way the girl will be able to shake or rub them off. "Tight enough for you, dearie?" Fiona inquires, giving the chain a little tug. The captive blonde gives a yelp… "Yes, Mistress Fiona…" she realizes how easily she can now be controlled or led by anyone pulling on that little silver chain. "Don't forget I can always make them tighter…" says the sultry dom… "Remember that you are absolutely forbidden to touch them. You'll regret it if you do…" Not that Alison will have much opportunity, as to her dismay Fiona takes her cuffed hands and refastens them behind her back.

Alison's tender pink buds will now remain throbbingly at attention. The girl has never felt more achingly aware of her female sexuality, with her nipples, pussy and anus controlled and dominated by the instruments she is obliged to wear. Still, enough of the drugs her mistress injected into her earlier are running through her bloodstream to keep her in a dreamily compliant state of mind, a warm gushy feeling gathering in her hips and backside… She feels the two dildoes locked within her moving around when she walks, forced to take little mincing steps as Fiona finally releases her handcuffs from the doorframe above her head and leads her out into the living room, sitting her down on the couch. Just then the doorbell rings. Alison's date is here.

CHAPTER FOUR

Fiona gets up to answer the door as Alison sits there squirming uneasily on the couch, very much tempted to try to get up and run away but knowing that there is really nowhere in the apartment for her to hide. The idea of being costumed, cuffed and plugged as she is in front of some strange man suddenly makes her feel terribly self-conscious and fills her with anxiety. Her mistress returns to the room leading a kind of grizzled middle-aged biker type with sunken cheeks and a two day's growth of stubble. He is skinny but muscular. His greasy black hair is tied back in a pony tail and he wears old, faded and stained black jeans, a white tee shirt with a black leather vest over it, and engineer boots. On his hands he wears black leather gloves with the fingers cut off, and he carries a black doctor's bag. He wears a droopy black moustache and goatee and his bare hairy arms are covered with tattoos, as well as what we can see of his chest. He's got swastikas, snakes, skulls and demons all over him. From his earlobe dangles a large gold earring, and the vest is decorated with various bits of biker jewelry and nazi regalia. He chain smokes Lucky Strikes and his teeth are crooked, yellow and stained. Obviously this man has never been to an orthodontist in his life.

"Alison I'd like you to meet Spider…" says Fiona. Spider grins down at her wolfishly. "Hiya, kid…" he says, putting down his bag. The clipped and corseted girl stares down at her feet, trying to avoid his gaze. "Alison, that's no way to greet out guest…" says her wardress reprovingly. "Stand up so he can get a look at you. I think she's feeling a little shy…" the brunette explains as her captive unwillingly complies, slowly getting to her feet and standing there with her eyes downcast. "But isn't she a knockout? She's our latest little trainee. Turn around for us, honey…" Alison awkwardly does a pirouette, the chain between her ankles jingling as she steps, very much aware of his glittering black eyes upon her taking in the bright pink stripe decorating her exposed rear, the white strap bisecting her shaved and naked crotch, her throbbingly sensitive nipples with the little chain dangling between them. "Say hello, Alison…" her mistress commands. "Uhh… Hello, Mister Spider…" the bound girl stammers, unsure of how to address him. "You can just call him Sir…" Fiona corrects her. "Spider is a tattoo artist who sometimes does some work for us… he also does body piercing." Alison's blood runs cold. Slate had promised to have her pierced. Is this what he meant? What is he carrying in that little black bag? She stands there uneasily shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her hands twisting behind her.

"Yeah she's a cutie, all right…" Spider grins… "Smells good, too…" His nostrils widen at the scent of floral bouquet and cunt honey that wafts from the embarrassed blonde. "So you're Slate's latest acquisition, huh? He sure knows how to pick 'em!" She says nothing. "Answer when you're spoken to…" Fiona demands, her hand already on her quirt. "Yes… Yes Sir… I guess so, Sir…" the cowed slave girl replies. "Yes, she's really quite lovely…" says the kinky brunette, "…And quite a performer, too! Would you like to see some tapes we made of her in action while she serves us lunch?" The greasy tattoo artist agrees that this would be most amusing, settling down on the couch and puffing on his smoke. Fiona goes over to the big-screen plasma

TV entertainment center and pops a tape into the machine, flicking on the remote. Immediately, the screen is filled with the close-up image of Alison's tear-streaked face eagerly sucking on Leroy's big black Johnson and wet slurping noises fill the room. The shackled young woman's face turns bright red with mortification. "And look… she can still blush, too…" points out Fiona with amusement. "Now don't you move…" She unclips Alison's hands from behind her back and refastens them in front of her. "Go get our guest a beer and an ashtray…" she orders her shamed captive, "And pour me a glass of wine. After that you can serve us our food. You'll find everything prepared in the kitchen."

Alison minces off to the kitchen as best she can, hobbled by the short chain between her ankles and feeling the plugs moving inside her with each step, the screw clips on her nipples giving her little twinges every time she moves. It's so tempting to try to remove them, but she knows Fiona is just waiting for her to make such a move. She can feel Spider's eyes on her wiggling white behind as she walks away and he briefly turns his eyes from the action on the screen. Standing there in the kitchen, putting their drinks on a tray, she hears herself moaning and cooing as the evil black stud pounds her… hears herself begging him to fuck her harder and faster with his big black dick. By the time she returns to the living room and sets the tray down on the coffee table, Leroy is giving it to her hard up the ass, her belt-lashed buns bouncing as she whimpers and grovels before him, obviously loving it and hating it at the same time. Spider's gaze is locked on the sight of her defenseless rectum being speared, her pinkish anal membranes being stretched and pushed and pulled and squelching around his cock in graphic detail. The degenerate tattoo freak's cigarette has burned down to a butt unnoticed in his hand, a two-inch ash about to

fall into his lap. He stares at the screen, the crotch of his jeans bulging with an erection which threatens to burst out of his pants. "So you like big black dick, do you, cupcake?" he asks her. "No sir… I mean yes, sir… I mean…" Alison doesn't know what to say. For some reason this seems to piss him off. "You dirty fuckin' slut… you worthless whore… you cocksucking bitch…" he curses her out. It seems the white-trash biker is a bit of a racist… doesn't approve of blacks and whites getting together, as it were. "Now calm down, Spider…" Fiona admonishes him lightly. "You can punish her later if you like. For now let's all just sit down and eat our lunch." Spider picks up his beer and chugs it, squashing the can angrily in his hand when he is done.

Alison returns to the kitchen for their food… a hero sandwich and another beer for their guest, a couple of salads and some sparkling water for the girls. She carries it back and sets it down before them. Fiona motions the girl to sit down on the couch, next to Spider. His dark eyes glare at her with a mixture of hostility, lust and contempt. She perches on the very edge of the couch uncomfortably, trying her best to nibble on the rabbit-food in front of her. As tightly corseted as she is, it's difficult to swallow anything, never mind the distractions of the plugs and nipple clips. On the TV the scene has changed to the following day as Slate and Fiona are now working her over, shaving her pussy and lacing her into the black corset, tying her to the bed and forcing the twelve-inch black rubber butt plug up her ass. A sick feeling of dread coils in her stomach as she sees Slate with the hypodermic in his hand approaching her wide-spread and hairless slit, slipping the two inch needle into her and depressing the plunger on the syringe, spearing her clit and probing deeper and deeper inside her. Spider leans forward beside her with an expression of fierce concentration on his face, the sandwich half-eaten and forgotten in front of him. Evidently he enjoys this sort of thing.

Alison sits in uncomfortable silence, trying not to notice the bulging erection in his dirty jeans. "Have we all finished eating…?" asks Fiona. "Then perhaps it's time for dessert. Alison's been such a good girl, she deserves a treat. Have you got something for her, Spider?" she asks teasingly. "Yeah I'll give her a treat all right…" says the greasy-looking degenerate. Fiona pulls the coffee table back and out of the way. "Get down on your knees…" she commands the frightened and humiliated blonde. "Yes, Mistress Fiona…" replies the servile young girl, ever mindful of the whip at her mistress' belt. As Alison kneels before the creepy biker, her mistress unclips her wrists and refastens them behind her back. Spider stands up and pulls down his jeans, revealing his long crooked crank. He's not wearing any underwear and the bound girl can see that he's got tattoos everywhere, even on the head of his dick. On the screen a closeup appears of the thick needles that Slate had thrust through her heaving tits, pulling back to reveal her face twisted in a mixture of suffering and desire. "Come and get it, cuntface…" sez Spider, thrusting his twisted veiny pecker up to the blonde's full and luscious pink lips and grabbing her by the ears. "Go ahead… suck him…" commands Fiona… "And make it snappy!"

Alison allows her mouth to open. Immediately he rams the full length of his tattooed and pulsating pecker into the back of her throat until her dainty nose is mashed up against his sweaty unwashed pubic hair and his balls are bumping off her chin. With her arms pinned behind her like this there's no way she can stop him from fucking her face like it was a pussy, which is exactly what he does. "URK… URK… URK… " she chokes as he mercilessly pounds it in and out of her, making the tears run down her cheeks. "Yeah… a face that's wet with tears is the best for fuckin'…" he gloats. "Suck my dick, you nigger-lovin' whore… SUCK IT…!" Spider watches the TV behind her intently as Slate forces her to confess how she loves big dicks up her ass, fucking her there until she screams in ecstasy and submission. She feels him throbbing in her mouth, getting ready to shoot, her tongue involuntarily tickling the bottom of his shaft. Something hot, vile and sticky splashes against the back of her throat as he forces her face hard against his belly, holding it there. "You swallow every fuckin' drop, you dirty little fuckin' slut…" he demands. And she does, gulping slavishly on his slimy unit. Down it goes into her belly, making her feel faintly nauseated. Finally he pulls out of her, wiping his cockhead on her face as she kneels before him gasping. "Now thank him for the yummy treat…" Fiona orders her. "Thank you sir…" she chokes, "Thank you for the yummy treat…" "That's a good girl…" he says, patting her on the head like a dog.

"You should get a lot of money for those tapes…" comments Spider. "Yes, soon they'll be in X-rated movie stores all over the country, although some of them might have to be sold under the table…" Fiona observes. "Our little Alison is going to be a big star… All she needs now is one of those fake names, like Vixxxen or Trashi or Viper…" "Howzabout Wanda Wetpussy…?" suggests Spider, laughing crudely. "Well, I dunno… Get up Alison… you can clear the table now…" replies the brunette, unfastening Alison's hands from behind her back and clipping them together again in front of her. The bound blonde's ears burn as she walks back to the kitchen, putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She takes a sip of sparkling water, trying to wash the foul taste out of her mouth. Slate is going to sell these tapes? They are going to be distributed all over the country… the world? She knows that her life as she has known it is ruined. No decent person will ever want to associate with her again. She'll be branded forever as some kind of dirty lowlife whore… an object only of lust and ridicule, condemned forever to some kind of netherworld of creeps and perverts. The thought fills her with despair.

Dejectedly she walks back to the living room as the TV blares on, showing Alison getting her punishment enema, then down on her knees in front of the toilet licking he roommate's smelly twat. Fiona is sitting back in the armchair with a calculating look on her face. "Gee, Alison… You look a little down…" she says ironically. "Let's go back to your room." She rises and grabs the wretched girl by her nipple chain, leading her through the door to the bedroom. Spider goes to the kitchen to get himself another beer before following them, picking up his little black bag along the way. He goes into Alison's girlish bedroom all hung with lacy curtains and stuff and sits himself down on the straight-backed chair near the bed as Fiona leads her luscious prisoner back to the four-poster and pushes her down on her back, fastening her cuffed hands to the hook above her head. On the wall above the bed there now hangs a sort of plaque with a selection of whips, paddles, crops and straps hanging from it. It makes an interesting contrast with the frou frou that decorates the rest of the room.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a little pick-me-up" the sultry wardress says dulcetly. "Excuse me for a moment while I fix us something…" Fiona returns with her silver tray, filling a number of syringes and laying them out there. Alison lies there helplessly watching as her roommate sits back in the armchair, unzipping the crotch of her black catsuit to expose her neatly-trimmed black muff. Spider helps her find a vein in her fat pussylip and bang some shit in there. Fiona sighs in satisfaction. The creepy-looking biker then ties himself off with his belt and adds another to the long line of tracks up his arm. "Now this is what I call a party…" he says with an evil grin, exposing his crooked yellow teeth.

Alison still wants nothing to do with needles, but there's not much she can do about it. In point of fact, she can barely move. Fiona sits down on the edge of the bed, removing the screw clamps from the bound girl's tits and tossing them aside. Her nipples are red and swollen, throbbing painfully. "Trust me, cupcake… you're gonna need this…" her sadistic wardress says as she squeezes the air out of the first syringe, sending a squirt of fluid up into the air. Spider sits there idly jerking on his long crooked erection, which he has pulled out of his dirty greasy jeans. In truth the warm narcotic glow Alison had been feeling earlier has largely faded, and she is starting to feel jumpy and irritable, her mood despondent. Nevertheless, when Fiona brings the hypodermic up to her flagrantly displayed nipples, she shrieks and starts to struggle, hysterically thrashing around in her bondage and kicking her legs. "Now, Alison… this won't do… you're going to hurt yourself if you keep thrashing around like that… You've got to hold completely still…" The evil bitch puts down the hypo momentarily, her hand going to the quirt at her belt. "Maybe you need another lesson in discipline… Spider, give me a hand for a minute…"

Grasping the still-struggling girl by the hips and flipping her over on her belly, the dark-haired dominant grabs her by the strap running up between her ass cheeks, stepping her foot on the chain connecting the girl's ankles as Spider pushes her face down into the pillow. "NOW… HOLD… STILL… BITCH…' Fiona exclaims, punctuating each word with a lash of the whip, laying into her girlish asscheeks with all of her strength. WHACK! WHACK WHACK WHACK! At the first blow, Alison freezes, a fiery stripe of pain burning across her luscious ivory butt, instantly bringing tears to her eyes. As the blows continue soon she is crying helplessly, sobbing and wincing with each lash. The little whip is designed to cut sharply, leaving dark red welts that immediately start to swell. The bound and plugged girl's behind is a mass of flaming pain. "Now look what you made me do…" says Fiona angrily… "You've gone and ruined your mascara. Have you had enough…?" "Yes… Yes, Mistress Fiona…" the punished little sex slave whimpers… "I'll be good I'll be good… Please don't whip me any more…"

"Try to kick me, will you…" the brunette says, reaching down to clip the blonde's ankles tightly together. She then buckles a short leather belt tightly around the girl's shaking knees. This forces Alison's legs tightly together and causes the strap between her legs to cut more deeply into her crotch, making her gasp. Then she and Spider flip the trembling and sniffling girl back over on her back and the ugly biker sits back down in the chair, after completely removing his jeans, and resumes stroking his nasty bent tattooed crank.

Now that she has her captive completely immobilized, Fiona takes a tissue and wipes the tear streaks from her face, then goes back to her silver tray. "Just for that, I'm going to double the dose…" she tells the sniveling whipped blonde… "And with longer needles, too!" She fills a couple of more larger syringes, putting heavier gauge two-inch needles all around. Sitting down on the bed next to Alison, she holds a hypo in one hand as she mercilessly pinches and twists one of Alison's fearfully hardening nipples with the other, making the cruppered blonde squawk. Holding the tender pink bud firmly, she pulls it up and away from the girl's body, deftly slipping the needle up and into it at the base of her aureole, sinking it to the hilt into the bundle of nerves behind the tender pink buds. Slowly she squeezes out the solution inside bit by bit, pulling back and driving back in again and again to probe higher and lower, left and right, seeking out new areas of sensitivity. By the time she is finished, the area has swollen slightly and Alison's nipple and whole breast are suffused with a billowing warmth that slowly begins to percolate up to her head. Her eyes start glazing over and she breathes heavily… her chest heaving.

Fiona then goes and empties the second syringe in the shackled secretary's other tit, repeating the process. By this time, Alison is lying limply in her bonds, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open as the powerful drugs flow through her bloodstream, sending messages of languid warmth and hot tingling arousal up to her befuddled brain and down to her plugged loins. She squirms around in the bondage belt, her cunt and rear contracting around the instruments impaling her. She's starting to feel good again… so good… Her eyelids flutter dreamily as Fiona approaches her again with another hypo, once again gripping her swollen and throbbing nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She drives the surgically sharp point of the lance directly into the tip of her nipple toward the center of her breast. Bit by bit, she works the point in deeper and deeper, squeezing out more drugs as she goes, not stopping until the little nut at the base of the needle is pressed up hard against the moaning girl's bright pink pap.

Alison's entire being is transfixed right there where the tip of the needle is buried, feeling the thickness of the shaft piercing her right through the heart of her nipple, her half-numbed flesh clinging to its steely coldness. She can think of nothing else, is aware of nothing else, her whole existence coming down to this moment in time, the savage intensity of the sensation. The dreamy glow and the sparkling excitement spreads through her body, making her light-headed. The tightly-trussed sex slave moans in total surrender as Fiona pulls the steel out of her and moves again to her other side, starting the whole routine again with her right nipple. "UNHHHHH…" she cries as she is penetrated…. "AAAAAHHH… she sighs submissively as the drugs flow into her, filling her with liquidy heat and scintillating intoxication. Her hips are grinding on the bed now, working the plugs inside her, rubbing her little joy button against the tight cruppering strap. The degenerate biker sitting in the chair beside her bed is pulling furiously at his crooked wienie, breathing hard, beads of sweat forming on his forhead.

Alison's head is lolling around on her neck her eyes unfocused as the massive dose of drugs turns her into a totally compliant zombie. Every nerve end in her body seems thrillingly responsive from the powerful stimulants injected into her, yet there's enough hypnotic in the mix to keep her relaxed and docile, lacking the will or energy to resist. All she can do is lie there moaning incoherently. She hears voices but they seem to be coming from a million miles away as she compulsively grinds her stiff little clit against the strap between her legs and clutches spasmodically on the twin plugs that fill her hips. A shudder runs through her helplessly overstimulated and tightly bound body as the first of many orgasms suddenly washes over her. 'UNH…UNH…UNH…UNNNGHHHHH…!" She bucks her hips wildly for a moment as she comes, subsiding immediately back into a slow sinuous writhing within her bonds. "I think she's ready for you now, Spider…" says her black-haired mistress.

The demonic biker opens his black bag and sets up his tools on the bedside table, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. He swabs the area with some alcohol, which burns slightly as it evaporates. Alison squirms uncomfortably as he takes a pair of shiny forceps and locks them in place on her swollen and partially numbed right nipple. Opening a sterile envelope, he unwraps a steel 12-gauge piercing needle about four or five inches long. "Hold still, cuntface… You wouldn't want to spoil my aim…" Fiona leans in and pins the girl's shoulders to the bed, holding her steady. When she feels the coldness of its tip pressing against the side of her nipple through the hole in the tip of the forceps, the lovely blonde's eyes open wide and a sharp thrill of terror runs through her. "Oh God… Ohgodohgodohgod…" Alison lets out a sharp shrill scream as the sadistic tattoo artist thrusts the surgically-sharp instrument directly through one side of her tender pink bud near the base and with a steady even and relentless pressure forces it through to the other side. The tender pink skin stretches, stretches, and then suddenly the glittering point is poking through, opening the hole wider… wider…

The lovely blonde can only watch in helpless terror and fascination as Spider works the thing back and forth inside her a couple of times, making sure that the hole he has pierced in her will not close up again. "The mistake most amateurs make is making the holes too goddam small…" he comments to Fiona. "If you don't make them big enough they're liable to start healing up around the rings…" Leaving the barbaric instrument in place, he then repeats the process with another needle on her left side. The beautiful sex slave's bright pink nipples are now stretched and distended around the thickness of the lances thrust through her. Surprisingly, there is no blood. Although she feels little actual pain due to the overall tingling warmth permeating her breasts, Alison is so terrified she would probably shit herself if it hadn't been for the enema that cleaned her out so thoroughly before.

As it is, she can only lie there quaking and trying to hold herself very very still as Fiona hands her torturer a black velvet box which when opened reveals two silver rings, each about an inch in diameter and of the same gauge as the needles skewering her helpless tits. These are designed with a little gap in them to enable them to inserted in the holes the man has punched. The blunt ends of the rings where the gap is have little holes drilled in them which are threaded on the inside. Spider screws two little blunt points into the holes and smears them with a cauterizing or styptic ointment. Carefully, he pulls the thick piercing needles out and quickly threads the rings through the holes he has made. He unscrews the two blunt points, replacing them with little silver beads which are threaded on both sides, effectively closing the rings and locking them in place. They hang there glinting in the light. Unlike anything that has been done to her before, these little souvenirs will be permanent. Although the rings themselves are in fact removable, needing only to be unscrewed, the holes pierced in her nipples will be there forever, now that they've been properly cauterized. A wave of helpless sadness washes over Alison, who realizes that she has been scarred for life. "Looks good to me… " says Spider, packing up his little bag of tools.

Fiona bends down over the tightly-trussed girl, examining the rings more closely, taking one between her rubber-glove thumb and forefinger and pulling it gently. She is rewarded with a sobbing gasp. "Yes, I think they're adorable… Don't you, Alison?" The bound blonde is too terrified to speak. "DON'T YOU, ALISON?!" Fiona repeats, tugging harder on the ring. "Yesss… Yes, Mistress Fiona…" the newly pierced girl hisses quickly. "You realize of course that you are forbidden to touch them…" instructs the dark-haired dominatrix. "You will wear them always as a token of your submission, so that even when you are dressed normally or in a crowd of people, even when nothing is being required of you, you will be constantly reminded by the rings in your flesh that unlike other people your body is not your own, that you are in fact enslaved to another. It is he that has pierced you, and he who will always be present in the steel you wear within you, every moment of every day."

"Nice speech, Fiona…" sez Spider, puffing on a Lucky, "But can we get that harness off her now? I'll be coming back tomorrow to do her pussy and I'd like to take a look at it beforehand. Don't forget to clean the holes out with some of this lotion I'm leaving you when you're giving her a bath. It will prevent infection and keep 'em from scabbing up on you…" A sick feeling of dread makes a knot in Alison's stomach as they unfasten her ankles and knees, retying her feet to the hooks up at the head of the bed and hoisting them up, so that her knees are drawn up to her chest and her legs splayed wide to expose her pussy and asscrack. Unfastening the many buckles, they remove the bondage belt form around her waist, pulling the twin plugs out of her openly displayed crotch and tossing them aside. Spider leans down over the bed to examine her helplessly spread and smoothly shaved slit and rectum, which gleam with lubricant and her own juices, still twitching slightly in response to the plugs which have penetrated her for so long. He observes how her inner labia hang a good half inch or so below the fold of her outer lips, the unusual size and prominence of her still fully erect clit, making the bound girl jerk and twist her hands around in her cuffs as he fondles her. He sticks a couple of long yellow-stained fingers up her pussy and asshole, meeting little resistance, commenting that there's no question about it this one was made for fucking.

"There should be no problem where to put the rings…" he says. Alison's holes tighten around him in fear, or is it desire, knowing he'll be back again tomorrow with his little black bag. Not down there oh please not down there… For a moment she allows herself to wonder exactly where and how many rings he intends to install, if that's the right word. Then she realizes that she doesn't want to know… doesn't even want to think about it. Somehow the terror which consumes her just makes her stiff little clit just stand up higher as he teases and pinches it with his nicotine-stained fingernail as the fingers of his other hand squelch in and out of her hot little twat. She is still very very stoned. A dizzying rush of hot pleasure and need runs up and down her spine, making her whimper and coo for him, her pierced nipples throbbing around the cold steel which pierces them as she works her hips against his probing digits. Some part of her still can't believe that she is responding like this to the sadistic degenerate who not moments before had pierced her so cruelly. She must be some kind of sick masochist… What is wrong with her? She is unable to keep herself from moaning with disappointment as he withdraws his hands from her.

These musings are cut short as the grizzled ex-biker fists his log twisted and tattooed crank up to her tender pink labia and with one powerful thrust slams himself into her womb, banging the plum-colored head off her cervix. Alison lets out all her breath in a whoosh as his hard hairy belly slaps against her softly shaved one. "Take that, you cocksucking niggerloving whore… and that and that and that and that…" he curses, pounding her with all the force he can muster, trying to hurt her with his weird ugly dick, but succeeding only in sending thrilling bolts of delight shooting through the newly-ringed sex slave. Her head hangs back, her eyes closed and her mouth open and panting as the muscles in her belly flutter and tighten with her gathering orgasm. She wants to be fucked now, after all the pain and fear she has endured… she needs to be fucked, deserves and loves to be fucked…

He pulls himself out of her gushy hairless pussy and drives hard into her upturned and quivering pink rectum, entering her easily after the hours of being plugged there. He buggers her furiously, Alison grunting shrilly in time with each thrust, her feet bouncing around in the air as her buttocks smack wetly against him. UNH! UNH! UNH! UNH! UNH! UNH! she cries, her face twisted into a grimace and her bowels spasming beserkly around his rampaging manmeat as she comes and comes and comes in her pussy and up her tight little ass… The feeling of her squishy slippery internal membranes massaging and squeezing his turgid tool pushes the evil-looking tattoo artist over the edge. Throwing his head back and howling like a dog, he spurts his hot slimy semen deep in the violated blonde's anal cavity, filling her insides with a soothing warmth. He falls off her like a man struck by lightning as the blonde sinks back into a dreamy cunty contentment.

Fiona unties her ankles and lets her stretch her legs out on the bed, rolling the still tightly-corseted girl over onto her belly. A trickle of come oozes from her well-fucked asshole, which her mistress mops up with a tissue, leaning over the half-conscious girl and loosening the laces of her corset to allow her to Alison has been forced to endure just made the experience of being brutally fucked by a total stranger that much more rewarding, satisfying and exciting to her. She realizes that in a strange way she has never felt more contented or such a sense of feminine fulfillment. Happiness in slavery… a strange rest for a while and breathe more freely. Somehow all the suffering, the gut-wrenching fear and humiliation concept, but one she is beginning to get used to. She admits to herself that even if she were to find herself suddenly free, she would probably soon find herself seeking out the kind of brutal and dominating man who could force her to respond to him in this new and exciting way. Now that she knows what really turns her on, there's no going back. Oh well… Alison drifts off into sleepyland, still cuffed to the headboard as Spider gathers up his bag and clothes and staggers toward the door, wiping his dick on the bedsheet and shakily lighting a smoke. "See you tomorrow…" he croaks at Fiona, who sits in the armchair making herself another fix. It is now about three o'clock in the afternoon.

It is about an hour later when Alison begins to awake from her fucked-out stupor, aware once again of the throbbing of her pierced nipples around the thick silvery rings. Also she has to urinate. Once again she is forced to call out to her roommate and keeper for help. Fiona returns to the room with some fresh injections made for Alison on her silver tray. One for each cheek if she cooperates, elsewhere if she doesn't. "If you want me to let you up, you've got to take your medicine like a good girl… now roll over on your tummy for me…" Alison shamelessly obeys her, impelled by the urgency in her bladder and the throbbing pain of her recently-pierced nipples. At least the drugs will provide some relief from the burning rings that distend her, making her exquisitely sensitive to the slightest touch or movement. Alison rests her weight on her elbows and bound wrists in front of her, not wanting to put any pressure on her punctured tits. She feels a jab in her right buttock, a familiar feeling of fullness inside and then another quick stab on the other side… a familiar languid warmth spreading through her and a tingling excitement that jerks her clit erect. "Now can I go pee… Please, Mistress…" Alison begs as her dark-haired wardress puts her instruments aside for now. Fiona smiles indulgently, freeing her cuffed wrists from the headboard and leading her to the toilet.

"We should really clean you up while we're in here…" Fiona observes as Alison sits down to piss long and noisily at the commode, squirming in embarrassment. She is not in any shape to argue. The brunette fills the red enema bag and wheels it over to where the drugged and pierced blonde sits passively on the toilet. "Go ahead and wash yourself out fore and aft…" Fiona orders her, handing her the nozzle. "You don't want that slimy Spider's come to fester in there… Hurry up we haven't got all day." Fiona stands over her tapping her black booted feet impatiently as the blonde struggles to comply. She's having a difficult time inserting the nozzle in her anus with her hands cuffed like this. But she does it, twisting and squirming delightfully. She blushes beet red as the hot steamy water flows into her rectum, adding to the warmth building in her belly. She lets it flow out of her, washing away the unclean feeling of the greasy biker's sperm still swimming around inside of her. Fiona helps her to wipe herself and get up, leading her back to the bedroom and sitting her down at the vanity table to fix her makeup.

Fiona expertly touches up the bound babe's lipstick and streaked eye makeup, once more restoring the doll-like perfection of Alison's pale oval face and hair as the stoned and docile blonde relaxes under her ministrations. Her tied hands rest together in her lap, unthinkingly stroking the smoothness of her polished mound, where she can feel the barest hint of stubble already beginning to grow. Does Fiona intend to shave her again soon? Slate has demanded that she be kept completely smooth. No doubt the evil ex-beautician has something in mind.

Getting the freshly made-up girl up from the fur-covered bench and leading her to the doorframe, the brunette fastens Alison's braceleted wrists to the hook over her head once again, hoisting her up tight. She then kicks the blonde's high heeled feet apart, anchoring the straps around her ankles to hooks in the doorframe so that her legs are spread apart in a wide Vee. Fiona steps around behind her to lace her corset up more tightly. "The afternoon is getting late, blondie…" she comments, "It's time to get on with your training." The raven-haired dominatrix pulls the laces tighter… tighter… making the steel-reinforced garment meet in an unbroken line up the gasping slave girl's back. The ringed receptionist's already slender middle has been compressed to a mere 18 inches. The incredibly constricted blonde feels as though her waist is about to snap, her heart thrust up into her throat and all the blood in her body concentrating in her spinning head, her throbbing pierced nipples and her naked and attentive loins.

"Time for pluggie practice…" announces Fiona. "Today you graduate to a size thirteen… that's thirteen inches long and an inch and three quarters thick…" She goes over to the trunk in the corner and returns carrying the white patent-leather bondage belt, already hooked up by the straps in front to the size thirteen black rubber rectum-stretcher where it flares out at the base. In her other hand she holds a six inch black rubber penis gag. Stepping around behind Alison, she forces the thick choking thing past the girls gasping lips and hilt-deep into her throat, wringing a choked moan from the suspended blonde, who breathes wildly through her nose, her aristocratic nose flaring like a racehorse on the homestretch. Her mistress fastens the bondage belt tightly around her impossibly thin waistline, letting the long black plug dangle down below. Her white buttocks shake as Fiona empties an applicator full of lubricant into her rectum, shoving the glass tube past her wrinkled sphincter and depressing the plunger. Fiona massages the stuff around inside her with a rubber-gloved finger, then two, holding her immobile by the fingers of her other hand hooked inside the captive girl's gushy twat.

After a minute or two of this, Alison is writhing around in her bonds, trying to push her hips back on the fingers going in and out of her, going MMF MMF MMF. Fiona brings the slickly-lubricated plug up to the bound quivering and slippery anal dot and slowly and with an even pressure starts working it in there, turning it this way and that, probing a little deeper with every thrust, forcing it in harder now as the smoothly tapered black head penetrates past the tightly stretched ring of flesh at the gagged slave's anal entrance and slips into the stretchy and slickly lubricated tunnel of her rectum. Slowly and steadily Fiona works inch after inch of the rubbery intruder up Alison's spastically twitching colon, the slickness and flexibility of the shaft allowing it to slide irresistibly deeper and deeper until once again her darkish pink membranes are struggling to grip the flanged base of the shaft. Fiona draws the third strap tightly up between the plugged girl's buttocks, locking the song sodomising rectum-stretcher in place. The sexy shaved blonde is now massively plugged behind, squirming around on her mistress' fingers that still impale her squishy pussy, reaching up to tease her eagerly attentive clit, stroking it, teasing it, bringing her shivering to the brink of orgasm and then leaving her there.

Alison closes her eyes as she feels Fiona's lips upon her, down there, inflaming her and making her moan into her gag, her buttocks whitely clenching and unclenching around the black shaft impaling her, her womb fluttering around the rubber-gloved fingers inside her. Fiona works the tightly-corseted blonde mercilessly, biting down on the girl's helplessly exposed clit with her sharp teeth and grinding it there until Alison is screaming around the thick plug filling her throat, coming like crazy on the dark-eyed bitch's fingers stirring up her honeypot and the thick phallic intruder stuffing up her aching spasming ass guts. "See, honey… it's not so bad. You just have to hang here like this till dinner time…" Fiona teases her… "You know, you're scheduled for a booster shot right about now. Where would you like it?" MMMF! MMMMF! "Oh, in your hairless little pussy? What a delightful idea! I won't be a moment…" The dazed and frightened little blonde can only hang there helplessly watching as Fiona goes about her business, filling up syringes and screwing on needles. Fiona kneels in front of the spread-legged sex slave, bringing a half-inch needle up to her openly displayed slit…

Alison can only look down in helpless horror as her quivering clit is skewered from underneath, feeling the pressure of the drugs flowing from the tip of the needle into her soft hairless pinkness. Her breath catches in her throat as she feels the warm soothing rush and thrilling flashes spreading within, making her knees tremble. Unconsciously she presses herself against the needle, wanting to feel it deeper inside her now… This is not lost on Fiona, who smirks to herself as she threads an inch long needle on a second syringe. She's got her digging it already. Alison's clit is swollen to twice its normal size now, and sticks out like a sore thumb. Although still terrified and repelled by needles, the captive blonde is getting off on the drugs all right. She hangs there limply as her mistress slips the inch long needle up and into her behind her clit shaft, seeking the root of the nerve, feeling a ball of scintillating excitement forming and gathering there. By the time Fiona is ready to give her the third shot, the sweetly shaved receptionist is totally spaced-out on a one way trip to sex heaven. The evil black-leather bitch threads the two inch needle into the unbelievably soft and sensitive flesh inside the captive blonde's vagina, injecting more and more drugs into the fluttering muscles and writhing membranes inside the helpless girl. Waves of soothing narcotic bliss shot through with bolts of incandescence gather in the bound babe's hips and shoot up to her brain and back down again, her well-stuffed rear clenching rhythmically and spasmodically on the black rubber appliance she is forced to wear. Her head may be lolling around on her neck, but her clit is still very much alert, needing only the slightest touch to bring her to another crushing orgasm. Unfortunately, Fiona has no intention of offering her this release. She intends to keep the girl in suspense until her master shows up in perhaps an hour or so.

Finally, the brunette steps back, a smile of perverse satisfaction crossing her face. Not only has she forced Alison to take whatever she had to dish out, but she's succeeded in making the submissive doll respond to her against her will. Her training is going well. Slate should be pleased. "You can just hang out here for a while…" she tells the stoned out cutie. "If you promise to be quiet, I'll even take your gag out… is that a deal?" The bound blonde nods quickly, eagerly, her jaws aching to be able to close again.

"You'll get a longer one tomorrow…" Fiona promises her… "After a week or so of practice, you should be able to deep-throat a salami…" she teases the gasping girl as she unfastens the straps around the back of her captive's neck and allows the saliva-slickened black rubber pecker to fall to the floor, kicking it aside. Alison can wash it later, along with the other ones she has worn.

The luscious and spaced-out blonde hangs there working her jaws and breathing hard through her mouth in the doorway to her own girlish bedroom, once her private sanctuary, now redecorated with all the bizarre accoutrements of bondage and discipline. Her eyes wander to the long row of whips, straps and paddles hanging over her bed, dominating the room with their evil sense of purpose. Noticing this, Fiona taunts her… "Can't wait for your first real whipping, can you, hot pants? You know you're gonna get it tonight. Just wait until I tell the boss how you came with that slime-ball Spider's twisted pecker up your butt. He'll punish you good…" Fiona takes up her silver tray and leaves the room, doubtless to make herself another fix, leaving Alison alone with her thoughts.

Try as she might, Alison is unable to keep her gaze from returning to the whips hanging there on the wall, wondering which one will be used, where and how, hearing in her mind the crack of the lash upon her lily white ass. She knows it's gonna hurt… hurt a lot. Why does the thought make her all hot and gushy between her legs? The thought that it will be Slate's hand upon the whip gives her a secret thrill. If she must be punished she wants it to be by him. She only hopes that she can hide the liquid trembling inside her. He might be disappointed if she gave in too easily. For a good three quarters of an hour, Fiona lets her stew quietly, building up suspense. From the living room she can hear Fiona letting people in the door, the sounds of furniture being moved, and the muffled curses and grunts of men at work. At any moment one of them could enter the room, see her hanging there like some kind of weird exhibit. Eventually the sounds quiet and she hears heavy footsteps heading out of the apartment again.

At a few minutes before six, her black-haired keeper returns, unfastening her from the doorframe and clipping her hands behind her back again, once more connecting the white leather leash to her collar and leading her by it. There is a gentle, doe like expression on the slave girl's face, her eyes wide and excited. She longs to see her master… for him to touch her, if only with his whip. His are the hands that bind her, the needles that pierce her, the organs that have penetrated her. As Fiona leads her past the floor length mirror, Alison hardly recognizes the exquisitely dolled-up slave girl she sees reflected there. The posture of having her hands bound behind her makes her breasts thrust forward boldly, drawing attention to the rings newly pierced through her bright pink and throbbing nipples. Looking as she does, dressed as she is, she is aware that her very appearance immediately proclaims her enslavement and availability, exciting and provoking any man who sees her to red-hot lust, seeming to beg for further acts of rape and punishment. She wonders what Slate will do to her tonight. If she were a man she knows she would show no mercy. She sees herself once again down on her hands and knees before him, crying out in joy and agony as his massive thickness pounds up her quivering ass. Her rectum quivers and tightens around the long rubbery plug inside her. He has promised to take her that way every time he visits her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Suddenly, Alison's reverie is broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Her heart leaps into her throat. It is time. As Fiona leads her by the leash out through the living room to the front door, the plugged blonde notices that the furniture has been rearranged, the couches pushed back against the wall to make more room in the center of the floor. The entire far end of the room, where the dining area used to be, is now emptied save for a single spotlit pillar that runs from floor to ceiling, with a ring of hooks set into it about seven or eight feet off the floor, and another ring of hooks around the base. Obviously a whipping post. Off to one side of it is a sort of adjustable bondage bench, sort of similar to a weightlifter's bench but more thickly padded and with detachable stirrups built into one end like those on a gynecologist's examining table. The whole thing is set all over with hooks and rings, and jointed at several places so that it can be adjusted into almost any conceivable configuration. From a new rack on the wall hang a wide variety of whips, belts and chains.

The captive girl's knees are shaking so badly she can hardly walk, carefully taking little short steps, limited by the one foot length of chain between her ankles, her wrists still fastened behind her back. Fiona throws the door open wide, revealing her lovely prisoner to whoever might be standing outside. Alison squirms in embarrassment, not knowing who or what to expect… It is Slate, and he is not alone. Behind him in the hallway are crowded Tony, Mickey and Luis, the three lowbrow bouncer types she had encountered the night before. Their eyes widen at the sight of the pierced and plugged blonde in her bizarrely provocative get up, their nostrils flaring like bulls in heat. They shuffle their feet around in their size fourteen shoes as they instantly sprout bulging erections. Alison is powerless to cover herself with her wrists fastened behind her like this, standing there awkwardly on the end of Fiona's leash with her newly-pierced nipples jutting out of the cut-outs in the corset and her bald little slit peeking out from below.

Slate, meanwhile, maintains his air of ironic detachment, leading the group through the door as Fiona closes it behind them. "And how is our adorable little trainee today?" he asks the darkly beautiful bitch… "Has she been a good little girl?" "As good as can be expected, boss…" replies Fiona… "I had to straighten her out once or twice, as you can see…"

She turns the blonde around so Slate and his goon squad can inspect the marks on her rear, plainly revealing the base of the plug stuffed up the girl's behind and the little straps holding it in place.
"What the fuck is that thing, boss?" asks Tony. "Alison, tell my friend here what that is and what it's for…" Slate demands, pointing to the contraption between her buttocks. The bound girl hems and haws. "Speak up, Alison…" the granite-faced construction exec orders her, more fiercely this time. "I… I guess it's a kind of trainer, sir…" the mortified girl stammers, red-faced… "It uhh… it goes up inside me there… in the back… and the little straps hold it in place so it can't fall or get pushed out. I think it's supposed to you know stretch me… to make it easier for men to… you know… to fuck me there…" "No shit?…" sez Tony. "Yes, sir…" the blushing captive replies, humiliated beyond belief, staring down at her feet and feeling every inch of the rubbery rectum stretcher locked so deep in her hot squishy bowels. "She's been wearing it for about two hours, now…" announces her darkly perverse mistress, "So she should be pretty well opened up…" "Excellent…" says Slate. "We'll soon find out. But first let's have some refreshments… Fiona, why don't you go help Alison get us some drinks."

Slate motions to his boys to take a seat on the couches which have been pushed back against the wall, turning on the video tapes made earlier that day and displaying them on the big screen TV. Alison getting her punishment enema… Alison lapping her mistress' dark-haired pussy… Alison getting injections, getting her nipples ringed by the greasy tattoo artist… Alison getting her cunt and ass fucked by his long crooked crank… Alison moaning and cooing as he shoots his sticky come load deep in her spasming bowels… "Looks like you got her pretty well trained already, boss…" chuckle the meatheads on the couch. The luscious blonde slave girl in the kitchen can hear every word, every moan and gasp coming from the television as Fiona refastens her wrists in front to enable her to carry a tray of freshly-poured scotches to the men outside, her ears burning with their lewd laughter. Fiona pours them both a couple of white wines, and they take a sip or two before putting them on the tray.

Returning to the living room carrying the drink tray and still led like a dog by her leash, Alison feels the eyes of all the men riveted on her as she leans over the coffee table to serve them, carefully setting each drink down on a coaster. Her pierced and exposed nipples hang a few inches in front of each man's face. On the TV screen behind her, Fiona is just making her come as she hangs in bondage in the door frame. Alison serves the three underlings first, finally coming to Slate. As she bends over before him to put down his drink, Slate reaches out with both hands to seize her nipple rings between his thumb and forefinger. The tightly-corseted blonde freezes as he examines them closely, turning them this way and that, tugging on them gently. "How do you like your new jewelry, Alison?" the saturnine exec enquires… "You won't forget that you're my little slave girl now, will you? That guy Spider is a real low-life, but he does good work, don't you think?" "Y…Yes, sir… I guess so, sir… I… I wouldn't know… I know I won't forget that I belong to you… not as long as I'm wearing them…" the cuffed and plugged girl admits quietly. Indeed, now that she has been ringed, she feels more than ever committed to a total bondage lifestyle, her old life already becoming nothing more than an irrelevant memory.

"That's a good girl…" says Slate, finally releasing her. "You know, watching these tapes, I get the feeling that you enjoyed it when that creep Spider fucked you in the pussy and up the ass. Did you like it when Fiona licked your cunt? Tell me, how many times did you come today?…" "I… I don't know, sir…" the shamed and terrified girl replies. "I think you've been enjoying yourself too much, you dirty fucking whore… You don't give a shit who fucks you, do you, as long as they give it to you good and hard?" "Y…Yes sir… No sir… I don't know, sir…" the comely slave girl stammers. "You know what's going to happen now, don't you, Alison? You know what happens to dirty little whores?" Slate's voice is rising as he continues his interrogation. Alison remains silent and intimidated, not knowing what he expects from her, frozen with fear. Her bright blue eyes dart to the spotlit post at the other end of the room.

She knows she is going to be whipped, and soon. That's what happens to dirty little whores… she just can't bring herself to say it. "Don't you, Alison?!" Slate repeats himself, suddenly slapping the girl across the face, bringing tears to her eyes. "Yes sir… Yes sir… they get punished, sir…" "That's right, Alison, they get punished…" he growls, "Just like you're going to be… Dirty little sluts like you get their butts whipped every day. It's no more than they deserve. It's the only way to keep their hot little asses in line. The next time you come without my express permission, I'm going to have Fiona take her quirt to your greedy wet twat, you shameless sniveling little cunt! Keep that in mind!" Alison cowers under this torrent of verbal abuse. "Now take this bitch over to the whipping post and hang her up high…" he orders his three stooges, who are sitting there open mouthed.

Crazed with fear, the plugged and cuffed blonde makes a sudden desperate dash for the door as Tony, Mickey and Luis start to rise, ripping her leash from Fiona's hand. Unfortunately, she has forgotten that her ankles are still fastened together by the short length of chain, and only gets about two steps before she trips and falls to the carpeted floor with a crash, nearly upsetting the coffee table and landing heavily on her side. In a flash, two of Slate's gorillas are roughly lifting her to her feet, holding her by the upper arms and keeping them pinned to her sides as she struggles in their grip. "Now don't you feel silly…" her erstwhile employer smirks… "I was hoping you'd do that. You've just added ten extra lashes to your punishment… want to go for more?" He steps up to her and seizes her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eye. Alison gulps down the rage and resentment suddenly boiling in her veins. "No… No sir…" she whimpers, choking on the words. "Good… good… you're starting to hate me…" Slate taunts her. "It will be that much more fun to beat it out of you."

Without further ado, Tony and Luis half walk, half drag the terrified receptionist over to the pillar dominating the room and hang her wrists to one of the hooks over her head by a short length of chain, pulling it tight enough that she has to stand on tiptoes with her belly pressed hard against the post. The shackled girl is so weak with fear that she can barely stand and feels like she is going to throw up, breathing hard though her mouth. Fiona comes over with a wide leather belt, strapping the tightly-corseted captive's narrow waist firmly to the obelisk in front of her, making it impossible for her to turn or twist her body around and forcing her buttocks to jut out invitingly behind. They make a tempting target, framed by the corset cut high above, the black plug impaling her quivering rectum and the strap running up between her cheeks still glaringly obvious.

Alison's fearfully erect clit and ringed nipples are pressed hard against the post as her darkly beautiful mistress pulls her ankles apart, fastening them to opposite sides of the post at its base so that the bound girl is forced to straddle it, the smooth round obsidian surface hard up against her moistly shaved crotch. Her head and neck, however, remain free enough that she can turn to look back over her shoulder at Slate, who walks over to the rack of whips hanging on the wall. She'll be able to see the blows coming, if she tries, but is completely helpless to stop them. "I think a few with the cat would be good to start with…" her master comments, "Just to warm her up a little…" He takes off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, revealing a well-muscled hairy forearm, and selects a black leather cat o' nine tails with a foot-long wooden handle and two-foot lashes of thick leather strips, knotted at the end to give them some momentum. Stepping up close behind her, he fondles her soft and outthrust butt cheeks for a moment, running his fingers over the welts that Fiona had left there, letting the cat dangle idly from his other hand. Alison starts blubbering and begging pathetically… "Please Mister Slate don't hurt me I'll be good I'm sorry I'm sorry don't hurt me please Mister Slate I'll be good I'll be good…"

"Gee, Alison, I'm disappointed in you…" Slate comments facetiously. "Where is your spirit now… your will to resist? I haven't even struck you yet. Now shut the fuck up. The only sounds I want to hear from your mouth now are screams…" With that he starts swinging, slowly and with a measured pace, using all the strength in his arm. The nine-tasseled cat whistles through the air… SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! By the third blow, Alison is already crying quietly, helplessly, to herself, biting her trembling lower lip. SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!… On and on it goes. The nine lashes of the cat dissipate the force of the blow more or less evenly across her jiggling rear, not cutting into her the way Fiona's quirt did but rather bringing an overall redness and fiery heat to her cheeks. SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! By the tenth lash the girl is sobbing freely, twisting in her bonds as much as she is able, unconsciously grinding her wet and hairless pussy against the foot-thick black pole between her legs, squeezing down on the thirteen inches of rubber stuffed up her ass and sending a surge of hot gushy cunty pleasure up her spine amidst the burning pain. SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!… Slate keeps up his slow relentless flogging, striking the girl once every two seconds or so. By the twentieth lash, the once virginal ivory of Alison's shapely rear is glowing a vivid magenta all over, and burning as though she had sat down on a hot stove.

The more it burns, the harder the whipped girl grinds her hips against the phallic pole she is tied to, moaning loudly now with each blow, her eyes closed tightly and a cascade of tears flowing down her face. "PLEASSE… PLEASSE… PLEEASSSE…" she begs incoherently in time with the whacking of the cat, her belly tightening with the tension of her approaching orgasm. "Jeeze, boss… lookit her go…" sez Tony. "First I'm going to make you come with my whip…" hisses Slate, "Then I'm going to mark you…" SPLAT… SPLAT… SPLAT… SPLAT… He punctuates each word with another lash of the cat. The overwhelmed and totally dominated sex slave's mind dissolves somewhere around the thirty fifth blow in an explosion of white hot pain and passion, her teeth tightly clenched and her savagely beaten bottom grinding and shaking uncontrollably against the hard black pillar she straddles, her pink little rectum felching and squishing around the long black plug buried in her bowels. A long keening wail is torn from her throat, borne from the depths of her submission. He has made her come with his whip, and she is his now, body and soul.

Slate takes a step back, taking a breather, his forehead dotted with perspiration, letting his softly sobbing and moaning slave girl hang there for a few minutes as the intensity of her orgasm subsides. Her hips move around reflexively in little circles, as though still feeling the echoes of his lashes. The girl's lovely rounded tush is glowing like a red hot coal in a fireplace and burns like one too. And Slate is just getting started… the steely-eyed construction exec takes a long pull from his drink, discarding the cat and walking back over to the rack on the wall. He selects a thin four foot switch, made of flexible fiberglass wrapped in black leather. "Wait till you feel the cut of my crop…" he says to the abjectly defeated and sniffling blonde with a cruel glitter in his hooded eyes, swishing the thing around in the air in front of him a few times, loosening up his arm. He means to give her some serious pain now. The limber switch makes a terrifying whistle as it cuts through the air. Unlike the cat o' nine tails, which is designed to spread the force of his blows more or less evenly across the flesh of his victim, the crop is obviously meant to cut sharply, focusing all the energy of his swing in a narrow stripe that makes immediate welts and can easily lacerate the skin if laid on hard enough. Slate intends to mark her for life. Only a bullwhip could be more severe. "Just try to keep from screaming, Alison… just try…" he taunts her sadistically…

WHIZZZ- THWACK! The thin crop lands across the fleshiest part of the bound girl's buttocks with a meaty thunk, instantly raising a darkish purple stripe flecked with tiny drops of blood on the flaming magenta background of her behind. With the first blow, Alison's mind explodes in agony and panic. She shrieks uncontrollably, far beyond shame or embarrassment. Never in her sweet short life has she experienced anything that hurt this bad. WHIZZZ- THWACK! He lays another stripe carefully just above the first. WHIZZZ- THWACK! WHIZZZ- THWACK! WHIZZZ- THWACK! Three more lacerations appear above and below the others, leaving a neat row of five darkly-oozing stripes across the tortured slave girl's shapely rear. Alison's body thrashes and twists within her bondage, her full-throated screams nearly deafening in the close confines of the apartment. For a long time she goes on screaming, even after her Master has put down his instrument of punishment. Slate smiles in evil satisfaction. She won't soon forget this whipping, her first, or the man who gave it to her. The overall redness of her buttocks will soon fade, but the stripes he has laid on her will take weeks to heal, eventually turning black and then fading to thin white lines of scar tissue that will mark her forever as a slutty little masochistic slave bitch. His little slave bitch.

Finally, Alison's screams fade to sobs and sniffling moans as she hangs there limply, her shoulders and breasts heaving, her face drenched with tears that roll down her cheeks and drip off her chin, her rear end an agony of flaming pain. "I told you I would make you scream…" Slate comments coolly, walking around to face her. "Now tell me… Who is your Master?" "You are, Sir…" the tortured slave girl snivels in abject surrender. "Who do you belong to?" "You, Sir… only you…" "And what is your purpose in life?…" "To serve you, Sir…" "And how may you serve me?…" "With my body, Sir… with my mouth… my breasts… my pussy… my ass if you wish it…" she whispers softly. "Very good, Alison… I think you're learning…" says her darkly handsome tormentor. "There's nothing like a good whipping to instill the proper attitude of humility in cunts like you… I wish your twerpy little boyfriend could see you now… he'd know how you bitches need to be treated. Maybe I'll bring him around here one of these days, let him watch some of these tapes. He must be wondering what happened to you by now. He should get to know the real Alison… the new Alison. Wouldn't that be fun?"

The captive blonde burns with humiliation, imagining what Tom would think if he saw her this way. He'd probably hate her as much as she hates herself for giving in so submissively… she who always acted so cool and aloof, teasing and frustrating her boyish suitor mercilessly, making her jump through hoops for her. And him thinking that the way to her heart was through love… how could he have been more wrong? She realizes that Slate's words are no idle chatter… no doubt he has plans to make this meeting happen. She knows that if she were Tom she'd want to get even… to punish her for jerking him around all along, then giving herself totally to someone else. Some day soon he will doubtless get his chance. In a way she even looks forward to it… she feels like she owes him that much.

"All right, boys… let's get her down from there and onto the bench…" Slate orders his musclebound henchmen. "She took her whipping… now she deserves a good fuck. Who wants to be the first?" The guys stumble all over themselves to be the first in line, with Tony asserting his position as the senior of the three. They unfasten the pierced and well-striped sex slave from the whipping post and carry the exhausted and totally passive girl over to the bondage bench across the room. "How do you want her, boss?" asks Tony. "Oh, face down, I think…" Slate replies… "That way I can admire the results of my work. Besides, it's about time for her pluggie to come out. Fiona, why don't you go fix our little trainee a couple of booster shots? I think she's about due for some anal injections… About 30 ccs worth… one, two, and three inch needles…"

While Fiona is off about her business the men busy themselves fixing Alison to the bondage bench. First they crank up the whole thing so it's about waist-high, with the head part a little lower than the middle, folding down the bottom third of the thing into an L shape. They set the unresisting cuffed and plugged slave girl face down on it so that she is in a kneeling position with her hips a foot higher than her head. Following Slate's instructions, they fasten her collar to a ring at the top end of the thing so that she cannot raise the top half of her body and her head is bent back at the neck, her chin resting on the padded edge. They separate her cuffed wrists and fix them to rings on either side of the bench about level with her shoulders. Moving down to her feet, they clip her ankles to more rings on either side at the base of the device, separating them and bending her knees up into a frog-like position. Alison's flaming and well-whipped backside is thus raised to prominence and spread open widely, completely exposed, as they fasten two short leather belts around her knees and strap them tightly to the sides of the table, making it impossible for her to raise her hips.

Slate then steps in and unbuckles the bondage belt from around her middle, pulling it away from her and unclipping the little straps that hold the rubbery butt-plug in place. Slowly he eases the dripping thirteen-inch dildo out of her widespread ass hole as he reaches down to stroke her slick smooth pussylips with his other hand, insinuating a finger between them to wake her swollen clit. Alison whimpers as the head of the thing finally plops out of her exhausted and stretched-out sphincter, which remains gaping open so that her Master can see in inch or two inside, revealing her gushy dark pink inner anal membranes. After three hours of wearing the thing, Alison can no longer close her rectum… at least not for a little while. This is exactly what Slate had in mind.

Just about that moment, Fiona returns with her silver tray and three 10cc hypos already filled with clear and potent liquid ecstasy. Slate instructs his henchmen to go ahead and take off their pants and shorts and line up by the bound babe's face as he buckles a wide white strap across the back of

Alison's waist, cinching it tightly so that her belly is pressed hard against the padded bench underneath her. The beautiful and punished blonde's rear end is now completely immobilized in this spread-open position, fastened so tightly she can't even twitch, her pussy and asshole gaping open like the mouths of hungry baby birds. Slate takes a hypo with a glittering one-inch needle and holds it up to the light, squeezing out a bubble or two, squirting a thin line up into the air. "Go ahead… stick your cock in her mouth…" he tells Tony. "Don't worry… she won't bite… not while I've got this needle up her ass. Will you, Alison…?" "No… No Sir… I won't bite…" she promises, shuddering in helpless dread.

Needles up the ass… anal injections… so this is what he meant. She can't imagine anything more terribly, dangerously decadent, or more terrifyingly exciting. For in truth she is excited, her little pink joy button twitching and jumping to the expert strumming of her Master's finger, her hairless little pussy moistening itself once again with her slippery juices. After the savage whipping she has received, she finds herself actually looking forward to the relief she knows the drugs will provide, spreading soothing warmth through her body and easing the awful burning pain of her fiery rump and throbbingly pierced nipples. Deadening also the guilt and shame and anguish that torment her mind, leaving her spaced-out and carefree, eager to please. She's going to get it anyway… she might as well enjoy it, the helpless girl rationalizes.

In fact she is already becoming addicted to the powerful stimulant/hypnotics and if the gleaming needles are the price she has to pay She has learned to find a certain horrifying and sick pleasure in the feeling of the ultra-sharp instruments piercing and probing deeper and deeper within her tender sex flesh, the squeezing of the plunger that fills her from within with scintillating and dreamy pleasure, the shock of hot surrender that hits as the drugs fill her bloodstream and reach her brain, leaving her limp and aching with sexual need. Alison opens her mouth and gasps as she feels the first scrape of the one-inch needle dimpling the ultra-sensitive flesh at the gaping mouth of her rectum. The hairy beetle-browed Italian standing in front of her takes this opportunity to seize her by the hair, stuffing the length of his hot swarthy pecker into her mouth and leaving it there, pulling her head back to straighten out the path.

"MMF!… MMF!… she gasps as Slate sinks the glittering steel lance into the soft and yielding ring of tissue around her delicate opening, Slowly and deliberately he works his way around in a circle inside her laxly yawning anal orifice, injecting more and more drugs as he goes. By the time he has emptied the first syringe, a tingling numbness suffuses the membranes of her slightly swollen ass hole and a warm relaxing glow is slowly billowing within her. Alison's mouth is working now on Tony's big veiny cock as he slowly fucks it in and out of her face, her pinkly stretched lips locked around its circumference and her tongue mischievously tickling the underside of his throbbing shaft, sucking like a starving calf at its mother's udder. She is starting to feel all dreamy and creamy… she does do love sucking dick… any dick as long as it's hard and hairy…

"Now that we've got you warmed up, it's time to get to work with some longer needles…" Slate announces to his spaced-out and slurping sex slave. Alison feels a delicious thrill of fear curl in her belly, making her clit twitch as she presses it against the smooth vinyl of the bondage bench. She is anxious now to feel his penetrating injections deeper inside. Slate takes a thick index finger and inserts it in her doped-up rear entry, squelching it in and out a few times, enjoying the feeling of her slippery inner walls delicately massaging his probing digit as he stirs it around. "Tony, get your dick out of there before you come… step aside and let Mickey have a chance." Alison meeps with disappointment as the swarthy Mediterranean's cock is withdrawn, only to have her face once more stuffed full of turgid manmeat as the sturdy Irishman takes his place. "Don't look so crestfallen, Tony…" his boss admonishes him as he pumps his finger in and out, "I want you to save that come to go up her ass when I'm done here. That goes for you other guys, too…

This little nympho slut needs more ass-fucking practice and I'm going to see that she gets it. So don't come in her mouth, okay?"

"We gotcha boss…" the three goons agree, smiling and licking their lips in anticipation. Meanwhile, Slate has picked up the second 10cc syringe with its gleaming 2 inch needle and bends to guide it into the opening of Alison's trembling and slightly open rectum. Holding the aperture open with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, he guides the razor sharp point of the lance into the girl's widely gaping hole, jabbing it down into the slick red interior of her anal canal. Slowly he works his way around the circumference of her interior, depressing the plunger of the syringe with his thumb to inject more and more narcotics as he goes. By the time he is finished he has completed a circle of injections deep inside her slick spasming rear entry and a warm glowing tingle is permeating her from deep within, sending messages of sensual delight running up and down her spine that seem to explode behind her eyes in a shower of scintillating fireworks. Alison's face takes on a look of dreamy contentment, her attention totally riveted on the sensation of the long needle probing deep inside her hot squishy asshole as Mickey pounds his stumpy dick in and out of her gasping mouth. Finally, the second syringe is emptied and Slate carefully withdraws it and tosses it aside.

"Okay, Mickey… get the fuck out of there… Let Luis get in on some of that blowjob action…" he commands, picking up the third 10cc syringe with its wicked three-inch needle and once more spreading Alison's drugged and halfway numbed asshole with his fingers. Carefully, he threads the length of the needle straight up her rectum, not touching the walls, finally angling it down to penetrate her only when the barrel of the syringe is ready to enter her anally. Luis grabs the compliantly-stoned girl by the hair and thrusts his hairy chorizo between her lips, immediately fucking her face with all the power he can muster. Alison lies there on her belly with her eyes closed, her attention totally riveted way up inside her back passage where the point of the needle touches her. Slate thrusts down and in, driving the whole three inches of gleaming steel into the soft flesh of her feminine core with one thrust, making the tied up sex slave twitch and tense up involuntarily as she feels the needle piercing her womb from behind some five inches or so inside her, sharply skewering the nerve center of the feminine anatomy. At least two inches of the barrel of the syringe is now inserted into her softly yielding rectum, fucking her in the ass as her grimly smiling Master empties the third syringe inside her. At this point, Alison's mind is floating somewhere up there above cloud nine, her whole body from the waist down totally out of her control, an expression of dreamy pleasure on her face as Luis pounds his stumpy dick in and out of her mouth.

By the time Slate is done and pulls the third hypo from her weakly spasming asshole, her whole body is alight with a hot rush of excitement and desire. After all she has endured and experienced she feels an almost unbearable yearning to be fucked and fucked and fucked… an emptiness inside that con only be satisfied by a hard pounding hot cock deep inside her, a craving for the kind of brutal penetration that will at long last bring her to orgasm and a sense of feminine fulfillment… a reward if you will for all the punishment and humiliation she has suffered. "Luis, get your slimy prick out of there…" says Slate… "It's time to buttfuck this little nympho bitch…" A tremor of shame runs through the tightly bound slave girl as she realizes how eagerly she is awaiting her impalement by three musclebound gorillas she hardly knows and doesn't even like. Her mouth is open and panting, her swollen nipples tingling and attentively erect around the thick rings that pierce them. She misses the feeling of having a hot cock in her subserviently sucking mouth.

As if divining her emotion, Slate steps up to her face and unzips his trousers, pulling out his oversized and twitching erection. Alison beholds this object with awe, an expression of doglike devotion on her face as she locks her bright pink lips around it. She licks and sucks at it like a little girl with a favorite lollypop, whimpering with need. A satisfied smile creases the hard lines of her Master's face. "Step up, there, Tony…" he tells the hulking bodyguard… "Stick it up her ass! Don't worry about her feelings… just ram it in there… That's how she likes it… Isn't it, Alison?!…" he orders the hungrily-sucking slave bitch… "Tell Tony how you like it… hard and rough…." He pulls his cock from her mouth and stands there glaring down at her.

"Yes, sir… yesss that's how I like it…" the bound and drugged girl is forced to confess, her voice soft and meekly fawning as she looks up into Slate's steely eyes with groveling capitulation. "I… I like to take it anally… Go ahead and give it to me hard… as hard as you want… hard and deep… I… I don't mind… I… uh… I like it like that.. I need it like that… Oh please… pleeeaasssse…" She hams it up a little, making Slate smirk…

Hearing this confession, the hot-blooded Tony's mind is boils with raging and greedy lust as he steps up close behind her to lay his hands on her well-whipped buttocks, guiding the head of his cock to her quivering rear aperture. He can feel the darkening welts Slate has raised with his crop on the background of her flaming magenta cheeks. Alison closes her eyes and scrunches up her eyes, wincing at the contact of his fingers on her burning and lacerated rear as her Boss once more thrusts his hot manly member into her gasping mouth. Without further preamble, the swarthy goomba behind her introduces his swollen red cockhead into her hairless and dilated pink rectum, plunging it past her stretched-out sphincter and into her slickly-lubricated and spasming bowels. He penetrates her easily for the first few inches or so, although it's a bit of a struggle to get the second half stuffed up there… The girl moans around Slate's dick filling her mouth, lifting her hips as best she can to straighten herself out inside and accommodate Tony's rough probing deeper and deeper in her hot ass…

After hours of wearing the rubbery black plug up there Alison is well stretched, although it is still a snug fit. Finally, he stops for a moment, savoring the sensation of her hot elastic bowels stretched tightly and squeezing around the length of his cock, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead from the sheer pleasure of it. He grinds his hairy muscular belly against her softly upturned buns. Her yielding insides begin to squeeze and milk on his shaft, her belly turning flip-flops with the pleasure of being deeply penetrated as she shamelessly rubs her stiff little clit against the vinyl bondage bench beneath her.

When he feels her squishy internal membranes start to massage his cock, Tony goes wild, slamming himself up her girlish ass like a linebacker on steroids, grunting and snorting like an animal. Alison is totally overcome by the violent pounding of his dick within her, forcing the breath from her lungs as he batters relentlessly into her soft interior. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! goes his belly against her jiggling backside. Within minutes his rock-hard organ is twitching and jumping inside her, seeming to swell even wider as he spurts his hot scummy load into her seething depths, holding her tight against him. When she feels his warm wet semen spurting deep in her butt, the blonde's spastically fluttering bowels clamp down on him hard, squeezing the come out of his balls as she comes and comes around his skewering shaft, whining and squealing with rapture around the thick manthing choking her throat, trying hard not to bite it. Gradually her spasms start to fade as the hulking Italian leg-breaker's slippery cock slowly deflates and gets rubbery inside her, finally popping out with a splurt.

"Good job, Tony…" sez Slate, pulling his saliva-slickened organ from Alison's slurping mouth. "Don't you think he did a good job, Alison? I think you should thank him…" he demands, slapping the buttfucked slave girl across the face with his massive dick, back and forth, back and forth. "Thank you, sir… Thank you for doing a good job fucking me up the ass…" the panting captive murmers subserviently to the hulking meathead behind her. "Okay… now let Mickey have a shot…" Slate commands, stuffing his king-sized erection back into Alison's openly gasping mouth.

Tony steps back from the bench, wiping his dick with a moist towelette that Fiona thoughtfully provides him. The stolid Mickey steps into his place, an expression of ox-like determination on his rather stupid looking face, his mean little close-set eyes narrowing in concentration. Forcefully, he augers his broad purplish cockhead into the slavishly subservient blonde's oozing rectal orifice, driving his stumpy thickset cock to the hilt into her quivering and slippery ass guts. Although not particularly long, its unusual thickness makes it a good deal more difficult to force it in there, but he bores on in stubbornly, relentlessly stretching her… Alison's eyes pop open and alarm bells of pain try to make themselves heard through the drug-induced haze of sensual surrender, but of course with her tummy tightly belted to the bondage bench she can hardly even twitch. All she can do is take it… take it all.

Tears of helpless frustration well in her eyes as Slate relentlessly works his king-sized pecker in and out of her gullet in time with the ruddy-faced mick slamming into the recesses of her ravished bowels. Faster and faster the twin pistons move within her as she begins to respond with fearful excitement to the oafish bouncer's bloated tool, first relaxing and then reflexively tightening up again around him, caressing his shaft with her hot yielding insides. He fucks her wetly clinging ass feverishly, rivulets of sweat pouring down his contorted face as she grunts and moans around the big dick in her mouth in time with his thrusts. Soon he too is coming, erupting like a volcano, bathing her ass guts with hot gruelly semen, sending her spinning off into another convulsive orgasm, her blissfully spasming bowels sucking the juice out of his spurting unit as skyrockets of delight explode behind her tightly scrunched-up eyes. Mickey falls back like he had been hit over the head with a hammer. "Okay, Luis…" says Slate, "You're up… Don't let me down, now… give it to her good!"

Unlike the other two, who fucked her hard and came quickly, Luis is determined to take his time and make this last for a while. After all, who knows when an opportunity this good will come again? Besides he is vain and macho enough to want to make her remember him, and being Hispanic, holds a certain resentment for genteel suburban white bitches like Alison. The fact that she would undoubtedly have treated him as a social inferior in her former life adds a certain poignancy to the situation. He aims to strike a blow as it were for the pride of Latin manhood and her helpless ass is going to be the scapegoat. Meanwhile Slate continues to throat-fuck the subserviently sucking slave-girl, holding her by the ears and forcing her down on his cock endlessly as the tears run down her soft cheeks.

Luis steps up to the bound girl's widespread and oozing asscrack, slapping his hands down on her whipped and immobilized buttocks hard enough to make her jerk in pain and cry out, reawakening the burning stripes that decorate her rear. "Just wanna see if you're awake there cutie…" the olive skinned Latino hisses… "I got something here for your hot little coolie…" Alison whimpers as he presses the fat uncircumsized head of his swarthy pecker to her exhausted and bruised anal ring. Her insides are starting to feel like a punching bag after Mike Tyson gets through with it. Her eyes close in resignation. She's not going anywhere, and neither is he, except deeper and deeper up her ass. Slowly and deliberately he plows it in there as her fucked-out rectum grips him slackly. She wishes he'd just get on with it…

Finally, her tired and swollen sphincter is gripping his hairy unit at the root, its twitching throbbing length buried in her hot slimy rear channel. He stirs it around inside her… "Hey baby how djou like that hot Cuban sausage, huh?…" Alison lies there passively, heedless of his taunts, simply enduring. Unsatisfied with her lack of responsiveness, he slaps her lacerated butt cheeks again with his heavy hands as he thrusts himself forcefully up her hot squishy ass hole. This definitely brings the shackled blonde back to life in a hurry, her buttocks clenching an unclenching, her hot interior squeezing his hard hairy member involuntarily as she reacts to the burning hurt he awakens in her still-flaming butt. "Oh yeah! Let's do that some more!" Again and again the sadistic Cuban spanks the helpless blonde's tender tush, driving his slimy dick into her more forcefully with every slap as she quivers and shivers under him.

SQUELCH… SQUELCH… SQUELCH.. goes his dick as it pistons in and out of her cum-filled asshole. SMACK SMACK SMACK go his hands on her whipped and squirming buttocks. In spite of herself, Alison finds herself responding to this humiliating treatment, a coil of tension gathering in her belly and in her obediently stiffening little clit. Why is it that every time he strikes her it jumps reflexively, sending a hot jolt of pussy-pleasure up her spine to mix deliciously, excitingly with the burning of her buttocks and the feelings of deeply submissive surrender coming from up inside her violated bowels? Slowly and steadily he fucks her and fucks her and fucks her, his steely ramrod pumping relentlessly in and out of her meekly open rear. In spite of her exhaustion, Alison is coming alive for them… Her smoothly shaved cunt gushes as she begins to whine, coo and gurgle, lost in the overwhelming sensations as she is reamed out at both ends. Slate's mammoth cock twitches and jumps, pounding harder into her slavishly sucking mouth. Her cheeks hollow as she fastens her lips tightly around the root of his tool, sensing that he is about to lose his load. Luis is giving it to her fast and furious, not, making her soft buttocks ripple and jiggle as he fucks her and spanks her… fucks her and spanks her… fucks her and spanks her…

The two big dicks driving inside her seem to meet somewhere in the middle of her now thrillingly responsive body as her mind melts into a pool of molten mush and the hard-faced Latin lets loose with a stream of invective in Spanish, getting ready to shoot his wad. Suddenly they are both coming at once inside her, squirting jet after jet of viscous hot scum into her mouth and up her ass, into her mouth and up her ass, filling the captivated blonde with their spermy juices.

Alison's gratefully sucking lips overflow with her Master's fishy, bitter tasting semen, which rolls in rivulets down her trembling chin as she does her best to swallow it all, her slender throat working… Her eagerly squeezing and quivering bowels cling and clutch her cruel tormentor's burning twitching shaft, vacuuming the come from his hot hairy nuts as the beautiful babe writhes with delight in her bondage, her whitely-shaved belly quaking with the force of the multiple orgasms that rock her… wishing only for something to fill her emptily spasming and neglected cunt. Slate pulls his slowly softening erection out of her mouth, wiping his slimy dick on her face as Luis' coffee-colored cock pops out of her weary asshole. Finally, it is over, at least for the moment… A thin rivulet of blood mixed with come runs from the prostrate and shattered slave girl's battered and overworked rectum down the crack of her slit, dripping onto the white vinyl of the bondage bench beneath her.

Fiona steps over to Slate, wiping him clean with a wet towel as he tucks his big hairy pecker back into his pants. "I hope you enjoyed that, Alison, because that's what you're going to get every night from now on. You will entertain me and whatever friends or associates I choose. Don't think that they'll be only men, either. Fiona will have to give you further instruction on the arts of pleasing a woman. I'm certain that your nightly whipping will help you to remember your place, and serve them dutifully with your mouth, your pussy, and especially your ass, which I intend to see is penetrated regularly. Tomorrow, Spider will return to pierce your hot little cunt with my rings, as tokens of your enslavement. I am happy to see that you are beginning to enjoy your injections, since they will be a regular part of your routine, as well as a regimen of strict bondage and corset training. Even in sleep you will wear my chains, to remind you of your servitude. Sweet dreams, Alison, you sniveling little cunt…"

Alison absorbs this diatribe in trembling and fearful acquiescence, knowing that she should cry out in protest, denying her own complicity in the process of her enslavement, but somehow she is unable to speak. Any words from her would be futile, in the light of the glaringly obvious way her eagerly receptive body has betrayed her. Much as she wants to deny it, there has been as much sweetness as pain in her captivity, and the gut-tightening terror she has felt seems only to enhance the rapture of surrender. In truth she has never felt more brilliantly alive or more thrillingly happy to be female. Already she realizes she is looking forward to more… more of everything. More bondage and discipline, more piercing and injections, and especially more and more fucking. Being forcibly drugged and kept in tight bondage leaves her in a state of constant state of anxious readiness and anticipation, her nakedly shaved cunt always wet and her body hungry for cock and more cock. No doubt Slate is aware of this… he seems to know her better than she knows herself. Finally, she timidly stammers out a "Good night, Sir…" as her erstwhile boss and his flunkies arrange their clothing and get ready to leave the apartment. "Fiona, get this funky little cocksucking slut cleaned up, feed her and put her to bed…" the steely-eyed exec commands as he briskly strides out the door, his three lunky henchmen stumbling at his heels.

"Please, Mistress… let me out of this thing… I have to go… you know…" begs the gang-banged blonde. Fiona bustles around, undoing the various straps and chains that hold the captive girl to the bondage device. When she is finally free of the thing, Alison is almost too weak and fucked-out to walk. Fiona fastens her hands to the ring on her collar and takes her by the elbow, leading her to the bathroom. The captive receptionist immediately squats on the toilet, discharging a wad of sperm from her blustering asshole as she relieves her pent-up bladder. "Stay right there, honey… we might as well clean that shit out of you right now…" proclaims the brunette. Alison is subjected to a good douching and enema, quickly cleaned out fore and aft, leaving her fresh once more and finally contracting her overworked and stretched-out sphincter muscles. Helping the whipped girl up from the commode, her keeper walks her over to the bath-shower stall. "I think just a quick shower will do…" the kinky black-haired bitch announces as she begins unlacing her roommate's corset, allowing Alison to take a deep breath for the first time in ages and relax the muscles of her belly and lower back as she sighs in relief.

Fiona peels the garment away, disconnecting the garters and brushing the pink-white stockings down her legs. Taking a tiny key from the chain she wears at her belt, she unlocks the ankle straps of Alison's fetishistic high-heeled bondage shoes and slips them off along with the ruined stockings. Then she removes the silly pink bow from the blonde's long and somewhat matted hair. Alison is now completely naked, except for the collar and cuffs and the rings through her pretty pink nipples, which have begun to hurt like the dickens again. She winces as Fiona accidentally brushes a hand against one. "Don't worry, I'll give you something after your shower to make you feel better…" Much as she dreads the needles, Alison has developed a craving for the drugs all right and for the soothing relief and warm glow they bring her, taking her mind away from the aches and pains of her abused body, the throbbing of her nipples around the thick silver rings.

Fiona takes the shivering slave girl and stands her up in the shower, fastening her wrist cuffs to a ring in the ceiling. She takes the shower-massage unit off its mount on the wall and sprays up and down her tethered captive, wetting her hair and giving her a shampoo, then gently washing the tightly-stretched blonde all over, soaping her up with a sponge and then rinsing her down. Even the contact of the mildly warm water with her whipped rear end makes the submissive secretary aware of just how severely she has been beaten. The dark purplish stripes of the crop stand out vividly against the overall whiteness of her equine buttocks. Alison takes a look over her shoulder, seeing herself in the mirrored wall behind her. These marks and the rings that glint from the tips of her well-rounded breasts proclaim boldly her new status in life. Sex slave. She feels absurdly proud of his marks upon her, hoping only that she has pleased him by accepting them. Indeed there's nothing like a good whipping to instill the proper attitude in slave girls.

Fiona removes what's left of Alison's smeared and streaked make-up with a couple of oily pads and washes off the residue. She takes off the long dangly earrings the captive girl still wears. Her blonde roommate is now completely clean inside and out and actually feeling somewhat refreshed although very tired and sore and looking very pale without any make-up on her face. Fiona dries her and then leaves her hanging there naked for a minute or two as she leaves the room. Alison bites her lip but says nothing when her mistress returns with her hypodermic gear, filling up a couple of syringes. The brunette sinks the one inch needle right up behind her captive's achingly sensitive pierced nipple, instantly relieving the worst of the pain, making the blonde feel relaxed and lethargic. Repeating this process on the naked submissive's other breast, Fiona then puts her needles aside and applies some ointment to the punctures through Alison's tits, to help the wounds heal and prevent infection. Fiona then takes her limply unresisting prisoner back to the bedroom, standing her in front of the floor-length mirror by the door. Passively she allows her governess to slip a white satin corset-slip over her, lacing it tightly at the back. Although not nearly as severe as the one she had been wearing earlier, this garment still reduces her already slender waist by several inches, the white satin skirt billowing out around her bare legs. "It's important that you be kept corseted twenty four hours a day…" Fiona explains… "Otherwise your body just returns to its normal shape within a few hours and then tomorrow we just have to start all over again." At least this design offers a little more freedom of movement, and its not too constricting as long as you stand or sit up nice and straight. She is given a pair of white high heeled maribou slippers, which the docile blond slips on her feet. "Let's go have some supper…" the kinky dark-haired bitch suggests, taking Alison by her still-cuffed wrists… "You need to keep your strength up."

A light but appetizing dinner has been prepared, grilled salmon or something like that, and is waiting on trays on the coffee table in the living room. Alison gingerly sits down on the couch, in full view of the whipping post and bondage bench where she had been fastened not an hour before, momentarily shuddering at the memory of the terrible punishment she had received there. Nevertheless, she is surprised to find that she is ravenously hungry, having eaten virtually nothing since breakfast. Cautiously, she waits, not picking up her fork until Fiona does… "Go ahead… eat!…" says her captor, smirking at the cowed blonde's hesitancy. Alison digs in as best she can with her fettered hands, although she is already getting better at doing things this way, adjusting to being tied and moving gracefully within her bonds. The tightly laced corset makes it slightly difficult to swallow, but she quickly polishes off her meal and drains her glass thirstily. Meanwhile, Fiona is chattering on about this and that just as if this were any other normal day and they had just gotten home from the office. The two roommates sharing dinner and sitting in front of the TV, which is now on and blaring some inane situation comedy. The total incongruousness of the whole situation momentarily takes Alison aback, and she sits there silent and lost as her roommate's idle chitchat falls on deaf ears. "Hey wake up, Alison… it's time for bed…" her mistress announces, breaking into her reverie.

Although it is still only ten o'clock or so, the lovely but drained and battered blonde is happy to be led back to her bed, looking forward to nothing so much as a long rest and the forgetfulness of sleep. Maybe this is all just some kind of horrible sick nightmare, she hopes forlornly. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be normal again. But the rings in her nipples and the welts on her behind remind her that this is no dream. This is real life… her life from now on. "Better go pee before I chain you to the bed…" Fiona reminds her. "If you wake me up in the middle of the night, you'll regret it…" Alison obediently goes and squats over the bowl, struggling to wipe herself with her bound hands. "Make it snappy, you little bitch…" Fiona calls. The well-whipped and docile blonde hurries to comply, returning to the bedroom and sitting herself down on the big four-poster bed, now studded all over with rings and hooks, and kicking off her slippers.

Her mistress pushes her down on her back, leaning over her on the bed to fasten the girl's cuffed hands to the ring on the front of her collar, so that they are joined as if in prayer. Then she fastens the collar to a ring in the middle of the headboard by eighteen inches of chain or so. There's enough slack so that

Alison can shift position in her sleep without constantly choking herself. The rest of her body from the shoulders down is unfettered and feels helplessly vulnerable, the stripes on her rear achingly sensitive where they press against the satin sheets beneath her. Fiona reaches down, pulling up the sheer skirt of the corset-slip to cup Alison's naked cunt in her hand, ordering the bound girl to raise and spread her legs. It has been two days since Slate shaved her with the straight razor and a slight stubble is just starting to make itself felt on the smoothness of her lusciously curved little mound. Her kinky guardian notices this as she runs her fingers over the blonde's sensitive slit, toying with her.

"Getting a little scratchy down there, aren't we, pumpkin?" sez the smirking dominant. "This will never do… Shaving is nice, but it really only lasts for a couple of days. I've got a dipilitory cream that will leave you hairless forever. Of course it burns a little, but that's such a small price to pay. I'll have to give you a treatment before Spider gets here tomorrow to ring your pussy. I know he likes to have a nice clean cunt to work on…" Fiona goes on, slipping a few fingers between her defensively moistening inner labia, teasing her soon-to-be-pierced clit into attention, making the freshly-scared blonde jerk in her chains. "Just thought I'd give you something to think about before you go to sleep… sweet dreams, cutie…" the sadistic bitch says mockingly, withdrawing her rubber-gloved fingers from Alison's freshly-inflamed sex. "Be a good girl, now…" "Yes, Mistress Fiona…" the submissive receptionist replies meekly as her teasing captor pulls her skirt back down over her lowered legs and draws the covers up over her, tucking her in for the night.

Alison is relieved to finally be alone as her mistress leaves the room and shuts out the lights. In the dimness she can see little glints reflected off the shiny black leather whips and paddles hanging on the wall. She shifts position, curling up on her side and taking the weight off her still burning buttocks, unconsciously squeezing and rubbing her thighs together to relieve the aching need in her freshly-awakened clit. Fiona's teasing manipulations have left her hanging on the edge of another, final orgasm. Her taunting words and the fear they inspire only add poignancy to the rush of hot arousal that tightens in her belly. Alison squirms around on the bed, wishing she could touch herself but excited by the fact that she can't, delighting in her helplessness as she rhythmically contracts her spasming pussy and bumps and grinds her hips, her eyes closed and her mouth open as images of the past two days rush through her mind.

She sees long chrome needles approaching her, piercing her quivering sex flesh and injecting her with mind-warping doses of powerfully stimulating and addictive drugs. The slash of Slate's whip across her cheeks as she looks back over her shoulder at his sternly set face. Herself subserviently sucking on her Master's dick as his three goons pound up her clenching behind, the sight of herself in the full length mirror, severely corseted and decked out in her bizarrely exciting bondage attire with a twelve inch butt plug locked up her ass. The shining silver rings in her newly-pierced nipples throb within her. Right now the throbbing is warm and pleasant. She imagines Spider as he touches the tip of his needle to her defenseless and madly quivering clit, ruthlessly thrusting it through the most sensitive part of her, enslaving her sweetly-shaved little cunt forever with his cruelly gleaming silver rings. The lovely young blonde clenches her teeth and whimpers quietly as the first wave of orgasm breaks within her, making her rattle her chains as her girlish slit tightens up in a knot of frightened ecstasy. The blood pounds in her temples and she bites down on the pillow to stifle her moans… then gradually the intensity of the moment fades and she sinks into a black cloud of unconsciousness, her hips still reflexively churning in the afterglow.

Across town in his penthouse apartment, Slate watches her unwitting performance through closed-circuit TV. The hidden cameras in her room automatically adjust to low light conditions and record every detail of Alison's actions. Slate rubs his hands together in satisfaction, pleased with the way his behavior-modification plan is progressing. He's got the little bitch loving it, jerking herself off in her chains just thinking of what he's going to do to her tomorrow. He has her craving the pain and humiliation now… needing the domination and control… needing the needle and the whip. She is going to make a great little sex toy, and a stunning addition to his stable of whores when he gets tired of playing with her. As long as she is kept in bondage, drugged and whipped, she can't keep herself from responding with sluttish eagerness to any cock that penetrates her. The little honey was made for this, and he intends to exploit every bit of her potential. Slate slowly sips his single malt scotch, savoring his plans for Alison's future, knowing the best part is that they're all going to come true.

CHAPTER Six

Alison awakens early the next morning, her whole body aching from the abuse it has been subjected to and her nerves feeling shattered and shot. Her mouth tastes like a sewer and she has a burning need to pee. She needs desperately to be released from the chain that holds her to the bed. "FIONA… FIONA PLEASE… HELP ME…"

she calls out loudly, momentarily forgetting the rules of her captivity in her haste. A minute or two later, her sultry roommate saunters into the room, still tying the belt of a black satin robe around her waist and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What did you call me?" she demands sharply. "What's my name? Not only have you woken me up too fucking early, but you forgot to address me by my proper title, you stupid cunt!"

"I… I'm sorry, Mistress… M… Mistress Fiona…" the humbled girl stammers, aware of her total dependence on her wardress and of the fact that she has displeased her. "Shut the fuck up, Alison. There will be a punishment for that later…" the dark-haired bitch promises her anxiously squirming captive. "I'll make sure you never forget my title again. Just you wait… meanwhile, you can wear this leash for the rest of the morning." Fiona reaches into the trunk full of gear behind her and pulls out an eighteen inch length of thin silver chain with a clip on either end and a thin white leather dog leash. She reaches inside the bra cups of Alison's nightie and clips the chain to the rings dangling from her achingly tender pierced nipples, hooking the leash to the middle of the chain. She reaches down and unfastens the blonde's hands from the headboard but leaves them clipped together in front of her. "So our little pussy-slave doesn't feel well this morning, huh? Let's walk you to the bathroom and let you do your business. Then I think I know what you need to make you feel better. Come along, now, bitch doggie…" Fiona jerks on the leash, sending a jolt of burning pain through her roommate's skewered tits, bringing tears to her lovely prisoner's eyes and making her sit up in a hurry.

"No… don't walk… get down on your knees and crawl…" the pissed-off brunette demands. "Hurry up, goddam it." Alison awkwardly humps along behind her mistress like an inchworm on the floor, her cuffed hands making progress more difficult as Fiona mercilessly tugs on the chain connected to her nipple rings. By the time they reach the toilet, the girl's face is already streaked with her tears. "So our little puppy has to go potty, huh?" her mistress taunts her. "Sit up and beg me for it like a fucking dog or I swear I'll rip your rings out." The terrified slave girl hastens to comply with this humiliating ultimatum, getting up on her knees and hanging her cuffed hands in front of her chest, hanging her tongue out like a pathetic puppy and looking up at her angry nursemaid imploringly. "That's a good little doggie…" Fiona smirks, patting her on the head patronizingly. "Now go ahead and squat."

Alison pisses long and loudly, immensely relieved to ease the pressure in her burning bladder. Fiona then gets her back up on her feet and allows her to brush her teeth, have a gargle of mouthwash

and wash the sleep from her eyes. She still looks a little haggard… a little stressed. "Now crawl back to your bed, little slut-puppy. It's time for your morning medicine. You're gonna take it like a good girl. Right in your precious little quim. We might as well start getting you ready for Spider…" The degraded blonde is quick to obey, mindful of the pain her mistress can cause with just one flick of her wrist on the leash… The blackened and raised welts of Slate's crop on her buttocks are readily apparent through the filmy white fabric of the blonde's corset-nightie as she grovels along behind with her wiggling butt in the air, chafing her knees on the carpet.

Fiona orders the girl back into bed, laying her down on her back and stretching her cuffed wrists above her head to refasten them to the headboard. She unclips the leash from the chain connecting Alison's pierced nipples, but leaves the chain in place, the steel links cold against her skin as they lie in the valley of Alison's cleavage. The dark-haired dominant then goes back to the chest in the corner, pulling out a pair of ankle cuffs and locking them around her captive. Raising and spreading the blonde's shapely legs, her mistress then chains her ankles to a couple of rings mounted in the side rails of the bed, about level with her hips. The girl's knees are now doubled up above her and her crotch is opened wide, her inner workings completely exposed.

"Don't go away, now… I'll be right back…" Fiona mocks her as she gets up and leaves the room, leaving her prisoner to lie there squirming helplessly, dreading her return. In a moment she is back with her silver tray, which she sets down on top of the vanity bench, pulling it up beside the bed. The chained submissive whimpers in apprehension as her kinky nursemaid goes about filling a few syringes and fixing one and two-inch needles to their ends. "Please, Mistress… Please don't…" she begs… "Not down there… not in my pussy…" "Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Fiona demands angrily… Just you wait till I'm done with this. I'm gonna take my whip to your disobedient little cunt. What do you think about that, huh? Got anything more to say?" Alison bites her lip, meekly shaking her head. As the first needle approaches her tender slit, the innocent-looking blonde closes her eyes, unable to watch. Fiona places the palm of her left hand on top of the blonde's slightly stubbly mound, pushing up on the skin to raise the girl's clit and spread her inner labia. Alison winces and squeaks as she feels the sharpness of the needle driving up underneath the hood of her clit, sinking deep into her feminine erection until the chrome nut at the base of the needle is pressed up hard against the pinkness of her inner flesh. Fiona slowly depresses the plunger of the syringe, squeezing out a couple of ccs there and waiting for it to take effect. Within seconds a warm glow is blossoming there, easing the pain of the lance as it probes this way and that into the root of her clitoral shaft, injecting more liquid tingling inside her. A dreamy and excited glow is building in her belly, creeping up her spine and making the back of her head feel warm. Her face relaxes, taking on a look of docile sensuality as she abandons herself to the rush that flows through her body, banishing her aches and pains and the sick headachey feeling she woke up with. Fiona was right… she needed this.

By this time her dark-haired mistress is emptying a second syringe into her, probing deep in her clit shaft and up inside her, working her way around inside her gasping slave girl's open cunt. By the time she pulls the second needle out, Alison is floating away on a warm billowy cloud. Fiona thrusts a couple of fingers up the blonde's suddenly wet and responsive pussy, reaching up with her thumb to strum the slave girl's tingling clit. "Now you feel better, don't you honey… You want to be a good girl for me now, don't you?" "Y…Yes, Mistress…. I'll be good… I promise I'll be good…" the shackled blonde gasps, tossing her head around as Fiona probes her clenching pussy. "You bet your ass you will… Now let's get some breakfast. I've got to start getting you dressed and ready."

With that she withdraws her hand from the slave girl's spasming twat, wiping her hands daintily on a moist towelette, leaving Alison highly aroused but unsatisfied. She takes off the ankle cuffs and then unfastens the blonde's wrists from above her head, clipping them together again behind her back as she helps the girl sit up on the bed. "Come along, little slut puppy…" Fiona commands sarcastically, refastening the stoned out slave's leash to her nipple chain. Alison slips her feet into the high-heeled slippers, balancing carefully with her arms fastened behind her. Her ringed tits are thrust out invitingly by the backward pull of her bound arms as Fiona leads her by the leash into the kitchen, the weight of the chain and the leash tugging on her sensitive pierced nippies. Her Mistress sits her down at the breakfast counter, turning away to warm up something in the microwave. "Are you going to keep me tied like this all day, Mistress?" the shackled blonde asks innocently, wiggling her cuffed hands around behind her and squirming her still-aroused little twat around on the shiny red vinyl of the stool underneath her. "Shut up and eat, you teasing little slut…" Fiona orders her roughly, setting a bowl of hot steaming oatmeal-like glop down in front of her and picking up a tablespoon.

"Now open wide…" Alison's dark-eyed mistress seizes her pony tail and pulls her head back, immediately starting to shovel the sweetish but bland gruel into her mouth like a man filling a wheelbarrow. "Got to keep your strength up, cookie… that's it… eat it all up…" she croons as she force-feeds the protein and nutrient fortified mush into the startled slavegirl's gulping gasping mouth. Alison struggles to swallow the stuff as fast as her mistress is feeding it to her and keep it from running down her chin. "GLURK… GLORK… GLURK…" Soon the glass bowl is empty. "Good doggie…" Fiona remarks sardonically, holding a plastic travel-cup filled with a similarly bland and sweetish beverage up to the blonde's lips, allowing her to drink from the attached straw. "Hurry up, hotpants… we've got a lot to do this morning. Don't think I've forgotten about your punishment. Just wait till you feel my whip on your pussy… But I want to have you freshly depilated first. We're going to remove that annoying stubble permanently. It's just amazing the progress they've made with lotions these days."

Alison hurriedly finishes her drink as her mistress refastens the leash to her nipple chain. She is led back to the doorframe by the bathroom, where she is stripped naked and her pierced little rosebuds are fastened tightly to the ring up above her head by another length of chain, stretching them slightly as the slave girl bites her lip in discomfort. After her wrist and ankle cuffs are removed, her nursemaid commands her sharply to stand there with her legs spread, reminding the girl that she is already annoyed with her and punctuating her orders with a warning tug on the nipple chain which makes Alison wince. Even though her hands and feet are now free, the enslaved receptionist can't make a move without ripping the rings from her flesh. Fiona scoots up between her knees with one of those wheeled stools like they have in doctor's offices so that she's sitting directly in front of the girl's helpless and moistly receptive cunt. Pulling up a wheeled metal table like those used in an examining room, puts on a pair of rubber gloves that is sitting there on the tabletop and opens up a large jar filled with some kind of glistening jelly. Fiona toys with her captive a moment, running her rubbery finger up and down in her slit, getting it wet, easing it into her squirmy pussy. Soon a second finger joins in, and Alison's mouth is open, her hips trying to thrust back, get those fingers in there deeper… She hardly even flinches when her mistress removes one of her digits from her squishy vagina and works it up her tight little ass hole, making the girl squirm on her stiffly impaling digits.

Fiona takes a generous dollop of the sticky greenish goo in her other hand and plops it down right on Alison's lower belly and mound, immediately spreading it around, coating the blonde with a nice even layer. It just feels cold, wet and gooey. Like a fungus the green glop slowly spreads all over the immobilized receptionist as Fiona withdraws her fingers from her hot squirmy holes and gets to work with both hands, slowly and methodically covering the blonde from neck to toes with the stuff, scooting around the girl from front to back, ordering her to raise her arms over her head and keep them there so she can smear the stuff over her armpits. Alison does her best not to squirm as she is coated all over with a shimmering layer of this green slime, since every movement sends a twinge of painFiona has made careful note of the time. You don't want to leave this gloop on for more than ten minutes or you could get a nasty burn… Speaking of burning, Alison has begun to notice that the shimmery glop that is coating her seems to be heating up as it sits on her skin. Right now it's just a nice warm glow, but it seems to still be getting hotter, and her skin is tingling like crazy all over. Fiona keeps up a running commentary… "Just one treatment with this depilatory and inhibitor and you'll be 90% hair free forever. So even when it eventually grows back in a few weeks or so there will hardly be anything, and by the third treatment the effects will be pretty much permanent. There's nothing more useless than body hair on a slave girl. Now you'll be soft and smooth forever. Of course they tell me it stings a little…"

As a matter of fact it is starting to sting more than a little by the end of eight minutes or so, and Alison is starting to squirm and writhe around in discomfort, feeling as if she is being stung all over by angry bees. Fiona leaves her hanging there for a minute as she goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, adjusting it to a gentle lukewarm spray. "Just one more minute, my dear, and then you can wash off all that nasty goo." "Oh please, Mistress… please…" Alison snivels abjectly, trembling in torment and rattling her chains as her whole body seems encased in fire and the green glop eats into her very pores, exterminating her hair follicles at the roots. By the time Fiona reattaches her nipple leash and takes her down from the doorframe, she has to stifle an urge to run for the shower to keep from ripping the rings out of her tits. Fiona forces her to crawl slowly behind her into the bathroom and stands her uneasy captive up underneath the running water, fastening her nipple chain once more to one of a number of rings in the wall of the shower stall, letting it finally rinse the burning green glop off her body and down the drain as the tormented blonde sighs in relief. Even after the stuff is washed off her whole body still tingles, her skin all over as nakedly hairless as an egg and slightly pinkish as though she had gotten a mild sunburn.

Fiona lets her stand under the lukewarm shower for a good five minutes or so, making sure that the stinging depilatory is thoroughly washed off and allowing the girl to cool the maddening burning of her flesh. At a command from her mistress the shapely blonde dutifully shampoos her hair as her roommate bustles around in the background, once more preparing her daily douche and enema. Alison squirms inwardly at the thought of having to submit to this degrading ritual, and with her hands and feet free like this it is very tempting to try and resist… As is divining her thoughts, Fiona warns her… "Go ahead and make a move, darling… I'm sure Tony or one of the other guys down the hall would be delighted to lend me a hand in subduing you. You've already earned yourself one punishment this morning… I'd love to have an excuse to give you some more…"

With the memory of last night's entertainments still fresh in her mind, Alison has no desire to encounter

Slate's goon squad again anytime soon. There will be more men today… of that she is certain. Men who will use her like a whore, men who will fuck her roughly in her pussy and up her ass, men who will punish her and make her cry. The mere knowledge that she may be taken and used by anyone at any time according to her Master's whim keeps her in a more or less constant state of defensive arousal and suspense. Slate promised her that she was going to get fucked a lot, every day, and so far she hasn't been disappointed, if that's the proper word. No less than five different men used her yesterday. How many will she be forced to entertain today?

Apprehensively, she bends over for her double cleansing, whining slightly as Fiona forces the thick phallic nozzles up her still slightly sore pussy and rear entrance, taking it in both holes at once and doing her best to relax and just accept the flow of steamy water that floods into her. It just hurts more if you fight it. Thankfully, her mistress unfastens her from the ring in the wall and allows her to expel the gut-cramping colonic without too much delay, instead of making her hold it and hold it like she did the day before. Still, by the time she is finished with her business on the toilet, the captive blonde feels weak and drained and totally humiliated.

"Alright, cupcake… enough of this dilly-dallying around…" announces Fiona briskly, refastening Alison's leash. Listlessly she allows Fiona to lead her back to the living room area and the white vinyl bondage bench, still crawling on her hands and knees, neither knowing or caring what comes next… In a matter of moments she is strapped down flat on her back, her hands fastened high above her head to straps at the top of the apparatus. A wide white belt holds her waist down tightly to the bench, and her legs are fastened up into the restraining stirrups so that she is positioned as if for a gynecological examination, with her knees drawn up and her entire crotch area rudely pulled open and exposed. The slight breeze from the air-conditioning vents feels cool against her recently-denuded and extra sensitive skin, raising goosebumps. The shackled blonde just lies there passively staring into space, unable to do anything other than wiggle her hips slightly from side to side. This just seems to irritate the welts on her backside, so she quickly gives up and just lays still.

Noting the blonde's somewhat dazed and unresponsive condition, her black rubber-clad mistress decides that a little pick-me-up is in order. She leaves the room for a moment, returning with her silver tray and a fresh syringe full of liquid ecstasy, screwing a glittering two inch needle on the tip and setting it down on a low table to one side of the bondage bench. She then sits herself down on one of those low wheeled stools like you see in a doctor's office and scoots herself up between the captive slave girl's widely splayed legs, placing one of her rubber-gloved hands on the defenseless blonde's smoothly hairless mound. Alison's eyes pop open at this, startled momentarily out of her reverie. The black-haired bitch reaches down with her thumb and strokes her captive's clit experimentally, insinuating a finger between the folds of the girl's inner labia to spread some moisture up there… Alison just stares back at her dully, seemingly withdrawn somewhere deep inside herself. It's no fun when they're unresponsive like this. Fortunately Fiona has the cure ready to hand.

With her left hand, Fiona works two of her black rubber-gloved fingers into the tightly bound slave girl's twin openings at once, impaling her on her stiffly probing digits and holding her very very still as with the other hand she takes up her 5cc syringe, full to the brim with Slate's special blend of synthetic liquid dynamite. Alison whimpers, knowing what's coming but totally powerless to do anything to avoid it as Fiona smirks down at her, using her left thumb to raise and peel back the girl's clitoral hood.

The captive blonde winces and scrunches her eyes closed tightly as she feels the first quarter inch of the needle driving up… up underneath her clit hood and into the bundle of nerves that lead to her little joy button, her insides contracting with fear around the fingers that spear her fore and aft, amusing her mistress. Fiona slowly depresses the plunger, squeezing out a little dose of potent stimulant/narcotic right there just inside her, waiting a moment as a pleasant warm glow starts to suffuse the area, then stabbing deeper into the helpless babe's smooth cunt flesh. Bit by bit she works the whole two inches of gleaming chrome needle deeper up and into the gasping Alison's clitoral shaft, stopping every quarter inch or so to squeeze out more dope as she goes.

"You might as well get used to the feeling of having steel down inside your clit like this, honey… once Spider gets done piercing you you'll be wearing it permanently…" the brunette bitch proclaims as she drives home the last millimeter of her lance, the chrome nut at the base of it bumping up against the underside of Alison's now madly jumping joy button and injecting the last couple of ccs of solution way down deep there inside the core of her feminine nerve center. Alison is panting by now and rolling her eyes, her insides spasmodically pumping and contracting around her mistress's fingers as her cunt and asshole begin to respond pleasurably to the probing digits stirring within her. Once again the bound girl is forced to marvel at the power of this drug, feeling a billowing warmth and contentment and a breathless excitement all at once that builds inside her like a rising tide, sweeping all before it. Whatever her thoughts or feelings of five minutes ago, they have become irrelevant… she wants only to come… unconsciously she tries to press herself against the needle, wanting it deeper now… deeper inside her… Alison has her eyes closed and she is digging it now, moaning and burbling to herself as she thrashes her head around, getting herself off on her mistress' probing fingers in her rapidly moistening pussy and up her ass, the needle buried deep inside her clit making it throb and burn with desire around its implacable steely hardness.

Fiona unscrews the now empty syringe from the flange of the needle, leaving it buried two inches deep inside her weakly twitching sex slave. "Since you seem to be enjoying this so much, you can just keep wearing it for a while… it will be good practice for you." she announces, giving the exposed nut of the needle a contemptuous little flick with her thumb. Alison shudders in fear, or is it excitement, or both? The brunette changes her grip, working another finger into each of the writhing slave girl's loosening apertures, feeling them squirm and clutch around her as she pumps them in and out. That is all Alison needs to push her over the edge, grunting and gritting her teeth as her insides lock around her mistress' penetrating digits, bright pinwheels of joy exploding behind her tightly shut eyes. In truth, this come has been building up in her since before breakfast, when Fiona's fingers and probing injections first inflamed her and brought her to readiness, only to leave her hanging, teasing her and then letting her down, then teasing her again, toying with her and keeping her in suspense…

"Oh but I forgot…" Fiona says, finally withdrawing her moist fingers from the bound girl's openly yielding sex holes… "You're supposed to be punished… Did I give you permission to come? Well, did I?" "N… N… No, Mistress…" the fawning sex slave replies, unaware up until now that such permission was required. "From now on, you are not permitted to come unless you are given permission by myself or the Boss…" she announces sharply. "Every time you do you will be disciplined for it, starting right now. Don't try to fool us… I know the look you get on your face when your silly little twat starts tightening up… Disobedient little cunts will get punished… with this!…" The dark-haired dominant reaches over to the rack of bondage instruments hanging there on the wall of what used to be their living room, selecting a short leather whip, more or less like a small cat-o-nine-tails only with flat straps about one inch wide and a foot long instead of thongs and a short six inch wooden handle. She lays the straps of the whip down on Alison's freshly depilated and extra-sensitive mound, dragging the leather straps down and up between the lips of the trembling girl's helplessly quivering slit, teasing her needle-pierced clit and making the captive blonde bite her lip and shake her head. "You're going to get your pussy whipped now, you naughty little sex puppy, like only another woman knows how to do it. Men just don't have the patience…"

So saying, Fiona pushes her little stool back a bit between Alison's tightly doubled-up legs to give herself room for a better swing. She twirls the straps of the little cat around in the air, finally smacking them down solidly on the helplessly bound and exposed girl's wet pussy lips and freshly depilated mound. THWACK! A solid hit, but not yet a really hard one.
Alison gasps and jumps as much as the belt holding her tightly to the bondage bench will allow. The lashes burn, but perhaps even more frightening is the way they make the needle still embedded in her clit flesh jiggle around inside her. "I think perhaps 25 lashes will be sufficient…" her mistress announces. "That will do for a start, anyway…" At this news the captive blonde starts babbling and pleading… "Please, mistress, not down there… please not on my… on my pussy…" "Stop your whining, Alison, or I'll make it fifty…" Fiona commands her sharply.

Without further ado, the sultry brunette starts laying into her adorable prisoner, spreading burning heat into her nakedly upthrust and immobilized twat, making her soft pussy lips ripple with the force of her blows. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Fiona takes her time, waiting a few seconds between each swing to let the effects of the previous blow sink in. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Already Alison's tender feminine parts are starting to swell and turn red under the strapping. Much to her relief, the needle buried inside her works itself loose under the drubbing and falls to the floor. Helpless tears are forming at the corners of the bound slave girl's eyes and rolling down her downy cheeks as she sniffles and snivels and tosses her head around. Still it goes on… THWACK! THWACKK! THWACKKK!

Relentlessly, her mistress keeps up the pace of the flogging, striking the tied and now weeping girl a little harder each time, drawing a shrill little scream from her captive as the tip of one of her lashes just catches the shackled babe's exposed and tender clit, making it burn furiously and swell to twice its normal size. THWACK! THWACKK! THWACKKK! The supple leather straps of the cat sizzle down on Alison's moistly spread and hairless pussy, which is now turning a bright red from all the attention its been getting. THWACK! THWACKK!! THWACKKK!!! Fiona goes on strapping her, putting some muscle into it now, beating some heat into her captive's sizzling cunt.

The bound girl is crying freely now as the blows keep raining down on her most sensitive area, making her whole crotch swell and throb with burning heat. By the 25 ^th lash, Alison is sobbing and pleading incoherently… "Please… Please mistress… Please Mistress Fiona… " "There… that should do…" the dark-haired bitch announces grandly, putting her little pussy-whipper aside for the moment.

Alison's smooth and hairless pussy mound is now flaming in torment and glowing a bright magenta all over. The whole area is swollen and throbbing from the punishment she has received from her mistress. "So do you think you can remember to address me by my proper title from now on, Alison, or do you need further encouragement?" her governess demands. "Y… Yes, M… M… Mistress Fiona…" the cowed sex slave stammers out between sniffles… "N… N… No, Mistress Fiona… Please Mistress Fiona…" "That's a good girl, then…" the sultry brunette murmurs complacently. "To prove your penitence you may now serve me with your tongue. Lick my twat, you silly little bitch… I'm sick of you getting all the attention around here, having to nursemaid your slutty ass around… Suck my cunt and make it good, or I'll take my whip to your tits next time…" So saying, the black robed dominant gathers up her garment in the front, walking around the bondage bench to squat down over Alison's face, shoving her wet smelly and open pussy down on the tied and helpless girl's nose and mouth.

"Go on… stick your tongue out and lick it, you slut…" her mistress commands her. "You'd better get me off or else…" The choking submissive gets busy in a hurry, darting out her moist pink tongue to stroke up and down between her tormentor's pouting pussy lips, teasing her mistress' fat clit and bringing forth a gush of cunty-smelling honey from Fiona, who sighs in satisfaction as she wiggles her hips around, grinding her open twat on the slavegirl's face. "Keep going, my little sex puppy… that's it… lick it up… that's it…" Alison sets to work with energy, wanting desperately to please her mistress and avoid any further punishment, terrified of what the whip might do to her pierced and tender tits. She whips her delicate pink tongue around and around, sucking and nibbling on her keeper's smothering dusky cuntflesh. Fiona's face gets all relaxed and dreamy as she rides on Alison's slavishly lapping tongue, clamping her thighs tightly around the slurping blonde's head as she grits her teeth and comes all over the helplessly tied girl's face, letting loose with a thin dribble of piss in her excitement. Alison knows a fresh humiliation as she tastes the salty tang of her mistress' piss in her mouth. "That's it, you suffering bitch… lick me clean…" Fiona demands. The punished blonde continues her tongue-twirling, afraid to stop until she is ordered to, licking the smelly juices from her wardress' black-haired pussy until it is polished with her saliva. "That's a good little puppy…" her mistress says as she finally pulls away. "Now who's the fucking boss around here?" "Y…You are, Mistress…" Alison whimpers, her punished pussy still burning and sore. "Damn right I am…" Fiona asserts. "Now let's get you cleaned up… You smell like piss…"

Alison sighs in relief as she is finally unstrapped from the bondage bench and allowed to lower and close her legs. Fiona leads her by the nipple chain back to the doorframe, once more fastening her cuffed hands up above her head. At least she let her walk this time. The brunette goes back into the bathroom and returns with a warm wet washrag, with which she gently wipes her secretions from the docile blonde's face. In spite of the pussy whipping she has just received, Alison still feels fairly stoned and languorous, if rather sore. She gazes at her reflection in the floor-length mirror across from her, the redness of her whipped cunt standing out sharply from the alabaster whiteness of the rest of her body, as do the five dark slashes of the riding crop still evident across her buttocks. A knot of anxiety begins to coil in Alison's belly, remembering that her next appointment with Spider and his piercing needles is only hours away.

As if to remind her of this, Fiona takes out a tube of ointment and carefully applies it to the punctures in the cuffed girl's bright pink nipples, commenting that she is pleased with the way they seem to be healing. In fact some of the swelling around the tender buds is already going down and the wounds are not nearly as painful as they were the day before, although they are still extremely sensitive to the slightest touch or tug on the rings. Alison whimpers as her mistress works the rings around inside the holes, making sure that they move freely and that the skin inside is not adhering to the silver. "They do look lovely on you… or should I say in you…" the dark-eyed bitch comments as she toys with her captive's pierced tits. "All the slave girls are wearing them these days… I can't wait to see them sparkling in your cute little cunt…"

Taking up an atomizer, Fiona once more sprays the helpless and stretched-out blonde generously with the floral-musky fragrance familiar from the day before, perfuming her neck, her breasts, her armpits, and spreading the girl's legs to spray the stuff up into her crotch and ass crack, going over each spot twice. It stings and burns on Alison's freshly-depilated and naked flesh as it dries, making the pretty captive bite her lip and squirm. The blonde hangs there in the doorframe, looking after Fiona as her mistress goes off into her frilly girlish bedroom, now redecorated with all kinds of bizarre bondage paraphernalia. Fiona goes about

selecting her outfit for the day… "Virginal white, sweet and innocent… that's the color of the day today…" the brunette rambles as she picks out her prisoner's wardrobe.

First a lace trimmed white patent-leather corset with built-in rings and attachments for a crotch strap and detachable plugs. Alison has to stretch and suck in her belly so that her mistress can fasten the thing around her from behind, closing the little hook-and-eye catches in the front. Then Fiona sets about lacing it up, tugging the laces tighter and tighter until the edges of the garment meet in the back. The corset is extremely severe, reducing the bound girl's waist to a mere sixteen inches, accentuating the ripe fullness of her breasts in the lacy half-cups of the push-up bra thrusting out above and the swell of her hips below. Alison is reduced to taking short panting breaths, gasping for air through her open mouth as her body adjusts itself to the relentless constriction, feeling as if she is going to faint. "Tight enough for you, dear?" her keeper asks her sarcastically as she ties a double knot in the laces behind the panting submissive's back. "Ohhh… Yes, Mistress… Please, mistress… You're going to break me in half."

"We'll break you, all right, cupcake…" Fiona smirks. "Now stay right there while I get you some stockings and shoes… You don't mind hanging out for a while, do you?" First come the extra-long sheer white stockings, fastened to the corset by eight garters that keep them drawn up tight to the very tops of Alison's slender thighs. "Maybe we'll try on some booties today…" the brunette announces, bringing out a pair of extremely narrow and pointy white patent lace-up boots with six inch heels, high enough to reach to mid-calf and with D-rings built into the backs of the ankles for easy fastening. They are deliberately made about a size too small, and Fiona has a job stuffing the blonde's delicate feet into the sharply pointed toes, finally lacing them up very tightly up the girl's ankles and doubling the laces around the back to tie them off with a flourish.

Alison teeters on the extremely high heels as she if forced to stand on the very tips of her toes, all of her weight resting on the balls of her feet. Once the boots are securely laced, Fiona fastens them together by the rings with a one-foot hobble chain. Alison is now "dressed" and ready to have her hair, make-up and nails done. Fiona releases her wrist cuffs from the hook over her head and refastens them to a ring in the corset behind her back. She then leads the tightly laced and booted blonde to the vanity table by her nipple chain. The enslaved secretary can barely walk in her six-inch heels, mincing along slowly behind her mistress with her ankle chains jingling. Fiona sits the girl down on the vanity bench and clips her fastened wrists to a ring mounted in the back side of the the seat so she cannot get up again. The constriction of the corset around her waist forces her to sit up very straight as Fiona nonchalantly goes about drying and styling her long silky blond hair, giving it plenty of mousse and gathering a handful at the top and back to clip a lacy white satin bow in place there.

Next comes the make-up. As before, a very pale foundation accentuates the pallor of her skin. Heavy blue and purple eye make-up, pinkish blush and a hot pink lipstick exaggerating the fullness of her lips and setting off the perfect features of her oval face with a doll-like, doe-eyed innocent effect. The perfect "fuck me" face, if you will… not too sophisticated or mature-looking. Fiona pulls her captive's hair back on the sides to fasten on some earrings… pearls today. First she takes her piercing gun and punches two new pearl studs through the cartilage of each ear about an eighth of an inch above the holes she made yesterday and an eighth of an inch apart, making her lovely captive wince. Alison now has a line of seven equally-spaced holes running up the edge of each translucent ear and reaching just above the mid-point of their circumference.

Fiona works her way down Alison's delicately molded ears, inserting larger pearl studs in the next two holes, then fastening progressively longer and heavier hanging-type earrings in the bottom three piercings, with the bottom set long and heavy enough to brush her shoulders. Once again the helpless blonde feels as if her ears are totally stuffed and hung with metal. Much like the tips of her throbbing tits, which are starting to become painful as the narcotics flowing through her bloodstream begin to wear off. "There now… don't you look appealing…" Fiona remarks… "So sweet and innocent-looking. I almost wish I could fuck you myself. Spider will come in his pants when he sees you. Did I mention he's bringing one of his friends along? I think they call him Monster or something silly like that. They should be here around noon. That should just give us time for me to give you a manicure. Those nails of yours are all chipped and besides that they're much too short for a slave girl like you."

Ever alert to her captive's mood swings, Fiona senses that the pierced blonde is starting to feel edgy and uncomfortable again, shifting herself around restlessly on the bench. "I think you're ready for another booster shot…" the dominant bitch announces. "Just a little something to take the edge off… I could use a little pick me up myself…" Alison sits there squirming on the white-furred vanity bench with her hands still fastened tightly behind her, her breasts thrust forward by the backward pull on her shoulders, watching anxiously as her mistress fills up another couple of syringes of mind-numbing liquid ecstasy.

With the expertise born of long practice, the brunette sits down, spreads her legs and deftly finds a vein on her inner thigh, banging in a dose of strong narcotics, sighing in satisfaction as she feels the rush. "Now it's your turn…" Fiona smiles as she gets up and brings her silver tray over, raising the first 5cc syringe with its two inch needle towards the captive blonde's aching breast. She seizes the girl's right nipple ring between her thumb and forefinger, stretching it tightly away from her body, making Alison grimace and involuntarily try to rise up in her seat. "Don't move now…" the brunette commands, "Or you might tear your little nippies off…"

It's all the blonde can do to try and hold still as the needle spears up through the pebbly skin on the underside of her aureole and into the soft tissue of her outthrust breast, penetrating an inch or so up behind her nipple into the bundle of nerves that leads to the tender pink bud. Fiona squeezes out a couple of ccs right there, quickly soothing the ache and throb emanating from the ringed tips of the helpless blonde's tit, then thrusting the rest of the needle deeper into the soft tissue behind the nipple to inject the rest of the drugs deep in the center of her captive's full and rounded breast, probing around this way and that to spread the stuff around inside her.

A warm tingling sensation soon spreads throughout the enslaved young woman's bosom, working its way through her bloodstream and up to her brain, draining the tension and pain from her body, leaving her once more relaxed and receptive, her face once more assuming a docile and yet alert expression as the stimulants in the mix bring her reddened and swollen hairless cunt back to tingling life, her little man-in-the=boat rising and hardening involuntarily. Alison lets her long lashes close gently and opens her mouth to moan softly as her mistress empties the second syringe in her other breast, her head spinning as more and more drugs rush though her, making her arms and legs feel weak and rubbery. She rubs her smoothly hairless pussy against the bench beneath her, enjoying the tickle of the fur against her super-sensitive and moistening slit, the knot of fear in her belly somehow blending thrillingly with the ache of desire that is starting to build within her once more.

"Don't do that, Alison…" her mistress commands… "You'll leave a spot. Besides, you know you're forbidden to come without permission…" Finally, Fiona withdraws her probing hypo from the defenseless blonde's other breast, leaving her lovely prisoner once more compliantly stoned and sensuously aroused. "Feel better now?" "Yes, Mistress, I feel better now…" admits the sleepy-eyed sex slave shyly. "I… I can't help it… That stuff just makes me forget about everything and want to…" her voice trails off, unable to confess the growing need she feels inside.

"I know, cupcake…" her mistress replies… "I know just what you're feeling, you little nympho slut. You're gonna get all the action you can handle. Just you wait… you've got a busy day ahead. For now I think we'll just plug up those hot little holes of yours while we do your nails and wait for your gentlemen callers to arrive. Would you like that?" Fiona reaches down to insert a rubber-gloved finger between the captive girl's smooth pussylips, drawing it up to stroke the underside of her quivering clit, spreading her slippery cunt-honey up and down inside her slick pink slit. "OOOOOHHHH…" Alison coos as her mistress teases her eagerly responsive feminine erection, her inner cunt gushing with sweet-smelling juices. The room is starting to smell of hot cunt. "Answer me, Alison… Would you like to get your pussy and asshole plugged? Don't lie or I'll take my whip to your tits this time…"

"Y… Yes, Mistress… Please, mistress… go ahead and do it… I… I don't mind…" the squirming girl confesses, knowing that any other answer would only bring her further pain, shamed by the fact that in any case her mistress has only forced her to admit the truth. The drugs that flow through her, the bondage and sexual punishment she has been subjected to have awakened in her a burning need to be penetrated, an aching emptiness inside. What she really wants and needs is a good hard fuck, but she'll take whatever she can get. Alison feels the muscles of her lower belly loosening, an involuntary opening and pushing sensation down there as she readies herself unconsciously to be impaled. Fiona unclips her wrist cuffs from the vanity bench behind her, ordering her down on her knees with her bosom and belly resting on the white furred bench. Alison kneels there motionless, her face pressed against the fur as her Mistress goes to the trunk in the corner, returning with a longish white patent-leather strap with two thick nine-inch dildoes of white flexible plastic attached about an inch apart at the middle.

Fiona smears these instruments generously with shining lubrication, bending down to place a hand in the small of Alison's back to hold her steady. First she fastens the top end of the narrow strap to a buckle built into the bottom back of the white patent corset, carefully gauging the length so that the dildoes hang at the correct level. The submissive blonde can feel them dangling there behind her, tickling her ass crack as she kneels there abjectly waiting to be penetrated. Alison closes her eyes, shuddering and whimpering as her mistress touches the broad head of the upper dildo to the opening of her rectum, gradually working it open and stretching the wrinkled pink membranes wide. Inch by inch, Fiona forces the thing deeper and deeper up the lovely blonde's twitching spasming rear entry until all nine inches are buried inside and the strap is drawn down tightly between her buttocks. The defenseless girl twists her hands around in the cuffs where they are fastened together behind her, her fingers fluttering in futility.

Then the black rubber clad bitch stuffs the other phallic intruder easily into her gasping captive's wetly receptive cunt, filling the girl completely, stretching the back wall of her vagina as the head of the thing presses hard into her womb. "How's that, Alison…? Big enough for you?" "Ohhhh… Yesss, Mistress… Please, Mistress…" the well-stuffed slave girl moans, her hips shifting from side to side as she struggles to adjust herself to the twin instruments impaling her. She can feel them rubbing around against each other inside her through the thin wall of membrane separating her vagina and rectum every time she moves as her weakly clutching sex holes stretch tightly around their flaring hilts. "Now get up…" Fiona orders her… "I've got to fasten the front." The kinky brunette helps the unsteady young woman to her feet, holding the loose end of the strap up between her legs to keep the long white plugs from slipping out of her again.

Stepping around Alison as she teeters on her ultra-high heels, Fiona threads the loose end of the strap up through another buckle at the bottom front of the corset, cinching it up tight until the inch-wide belt is wedged solidly between the outer lips of the panting girl's hairless pussy. She reaches down with her rubber- gloved fingers to spread the girl's labia wider around the cruppering strap, pressing it hard against her captive's helplessly engorged and hardening clit. Every time Alison moves or takes a step, the twin dildoes rub around inside her and the inside of the strap chafes against her joy button, sending jolts of excitement up her spine that make her knees tremble. "Now just try to keep yourself from coming like this… just try…" Fiona challenges her. "You know you'll be punished for it if you do, you little whore…" Alison gulps, almost faint with the intensity of the sensations that threaten to overwhelm her. "While we're at it, there's another little accessory to this corset I'd like you to try on…" the black-robed mistress tells her, going once more to the big black chest in the corner.

Fiona returns with a pair of detachable shoulder straps that match the white patent leather of the corset. She fastens these to the front of the garment at the top of the bra cups and drapes them over her shoulders, crossing them in the back and then drawing them tight and buckling them down at the back of the corset as the girl stands there doing her best to remain motionless.

This has the effect of drawing her shoulders down and back, further accentuating and drawing attention to the bold thrust of her lovely bosom, pierced as it is with glittering silver rings. "You're a lovely girl, but your posture needs a little correction…" Fiona explains. "No more slumping shoulders for you, young lady. We're going to train your figure properly."

The tightly-constricted blonde can barely move at all, held rigidly erect by all the bondage gear she's wearing. She stares down at the floor, shifting her weight from foot to foot, unable to stand comfortably on the six-inch heels. "No, No, No…" her mistress admonishes her, taking her chin in her hand and forcing the bound girl to look her in the eye. "Look at me when I'm talking to you. You must always keep your chin up, as if you were balancing a book on your head. Here… this will help you to remember…" The brunette dominant takes a foot-long length of white ribbon from a drawer, walking around Alison to tie it firmly to the end of the girl's pony tail where it hangs down her back. She then takes the other end of the ribbon and ties it to a ring set in the top back of the corset, drawing it tight so that the young woman's head is pulled back and her chin is forced upwards. It is now impossible for the bound blonde to lower her head. "There… that's better…" Fiona smirks complacently. "Do you think you can remember to hold your head up now?" "Y… Yes, Mistress…" the immobilized submissive gulps. In reality she has no choice.

"Now then…" her mistress announces briskly… It's time for your manicure. We'd better hurry if we want your nails to dry before Spider gets here. Let's go to the kitchen, so I can sit across the counter from you to do them…" Fastening the dog leash once more to her captive's nipple chain, the sultry brunette leads her prisoner slowly out of the bedroom and across the apartment. Alison takes little mincing steps, restrained by the hobbling chain between her ankles and terrified of losing her balance and falling with her hands tied behind her, ripping out the rings in her tits. The twin dildoes inside her shift around with every step, the strap chafing and rubbing between her legs, making her gasp and shudder as it frictions her attentive little clit. Halfway across the living room floor, Alison has to stop, standing there shaking and rigid as her orgasm overtakes her, her belly seized with muscular contractions as her well-whipped pussy and asshole contract spasmodically around the white plastic intruders within her.

Fiona tugs on the leash impatiently. As if from far away somewhere the lovely slave girl hers her mistress' voice. "You'll pay for that later, you dirty little slut… I knew you wouldn't be able to keep from coming with that do-jigger in you…" At this point, Alison is beyond caring. Knowing that she is going to be punished for it just seems to make her come harder and more often. Her cunt gushes honey, her vagina and asshole twitching around the fat barrels of the instruments impaling her as her dope-addled brain reels with fear and excitement. Fiona tugs again at the leash, harder this time, the shocking pain from her pierced nipples finally penetrating through the bound blonde's reverie and forces her to move along.

Eventually they reach the kitchen, where Fiona sits Alison down on a stool at the breakfast counter, fastening the girl's ankle chain to the chrome ring around the base of the stool so she cannot get up. The tightly-corseted young lovely's whipped and slickly depilated crotch is pressed hard against the clingy red vinyl of the padded stool, forcing the twin dildoes deeper up her cunt and ass. "I'm going to unfasten your hands now, Alison…" her mistress informs her. "I want you to place them with the palms down and the fingers spread on the counter in front of you and keep them there. If you lift one finger without my permission I'm going to take my whip to your tits. Keep that in mind…"

"I understand, Mistress… I'll be good…" murmurs the still-quivering submissive obediently as her olive-skinned wardress walks around behind her and unclips her wristbands from behind her back, freeing her hands and easing some of the tension in her shoulders and back. Quickly, Alison places her hands on the counter in front of her as she has been instructed, sighing in relief as she works some of the kinks out of her shoulders. Fiona brings them both a couple of cups of herbal tea, setting them down on the formica next to a shoebox full of manicure paraphernalia. "Go ahead and drink your tea, honey…" the dark haired dominatrix allows, flipping on the small TV in the corner to some inane daytime interview show of the Jerry Springer type.

On the screen a fat middle-aged businessman type is confessing how he likes to dress up as a baby and have his bottom powdered, to the hoots and howls of the audience. "Pathetic wimp…" Fiona mutters… "And you thought you had problems…" Alison sips her tea gratefully, her mouth as dry as the desert sands, feeling a bit ludicrous sitting there in her bizarre get-up as if everything were perfectly normal but relieved that for the moment nothing more is being required of her. Her mistress sits down at the counter across from her and goes to work on her nails, filing them smooth and stripping them of the existing polish. From the shoebox she takes a set of extra-long nail extensions, carefully fitting them to Alison's slender fingers and bonding them in place with epoxy resin. She files them smooth and shapes them into oval tips, doing first one hand and then the other as her docile captive sips her tea with her other hand. The white plastic of the fake nails extends perhaps an inch from the ends of the girl's finger tips, rendering her hands almost useless for any practical purposes.

With these things on her fingers it will be impossible or at any rate extremely difficult for the girl to do such things as button a button or pick up a dime, further reinforcing the idea that her purpose in life is purely sexual and decorative. This point is not lost on

Alison, who feels a certain rush of heat surging through her plugged loins at the thought as her mistress applies three coats of hot pink lacquer to the super-long claws, carefully letting them dry before applying a clear top coat. This done, she drills three small pin-holes in the corner of Alison's left pinky nail and inserts three small silvery rings through the holes, symbolizing both the piercing of the girl's sex flesh and the constant openness of her three bodily orifices.

Fiona elucidates the significance of these objects to her quietly attentive captive, explaining that even when she is dressed in outwardly normal clothing these rings and other subtle signs will mark her to those who are in the know as a slave and a whore, one who lives only to open herself upon command. This whole process takes almost an hour, and by the time they are done it is around eleven thirty in the morning. Just time for them to have a light lunch before their guests arrive, Fiona observes as she clips the submissive blonde's wrists together in front of her once more. The little rings at the end of her pinky jingle faintly with every movement, constantly reminding the fettered young woman of her enslaved condition. As if she needed any further reminders.

Alison sits in mounting apprehension, picking at her salad and squirming in her seat as the clock slowly draws closer to noon. A knot of anxiety grows in her belly with the knowledge that her recently-whipped and nakedly hairless pussy is about to be pierced and penetrated with more of Spider's gleaming needles, to be adorned and marked with steely metallic intruders like those that dangle from the throbbing tips of her luscious young tits. The more she tries not to think about it, the more the images spring to her mind unbidden. Spider approaching her spread open cunt with a long glittering steel shaft in his hand, thrusting it cruelly through her helplessly quivering clit, her labia… She can't help but wonder exactly how and where they intend to pierce her… how many rings will soon be hanging from her delicate pink membranes? Inevitably, the seconds tick by, the hands of the clock slowly creeping towards the vertical as she torments herself with these thoughts. The TV drones on in the background unheard as her fear and anxiety build, the remains of her lunch sitting untouched before her. Fiona sits there smoking a cigarette, looking bored.

At five minutes to noon the brunette rises, sweeping away the dirty dishes and then leading Alison back to the living room, fastening her cuffed hands behind her back once more and sitting her down on the couch to wait. The petrified blonde feels weak and faint with terror, her knees shaking so badly she can hardly walk. "Scared, huh?" Fiona mocks her. "That's good. Spider likes 'em scared…" Alison stares over at the bondage bench spotlit at the other end of the room, knowing that soon she will be fastened there with her ankles up in the stirrups, helplessly spread-eagled for sexual torture. Her freshly depilated and extra sensitive pussy and asshole clutch reflexively around the slippery white plastic intruders impaling her, her fear and anguish only seeming to heighten the sensation as her soon-to-be-pierced little clit rubs excitedly against the cruppering strap drawn up tightly between her legs. If she's not careful she'll make herself come again. The last thing she wants is more punishment. Or is it? Her heart is pounding madly in her chest, the rush of adrenaline making her bright pink nipples stiffen, swelling and pulsing around the silvery rings that hang from them. "You just sit there and relax, cupcake…" Fiona commands. "I've got to go and get your injections ready… Believe me you're gonna be grateful you got them…"

CHAPTER SEVEN

The minutes drag by as the kinky brunette returns with her silver tray and lays it down on the coffee table before them, laden with an assortment of glittering hypodermics already filled and ready. "Don't worry, sweetie… we're gonna dope you up real good…" Fiona announces to the wide-eyed blonde as she sits there trembling in terror, her eyes riveted on the gleaming chrome lances that will soon be piercing her quivering sex flesh. There's a lot of dope there… maybe 30 or 40 ccs worth, enough to turn her into a pretty much mindlessly compliant zombie, and long glittering two and three inch needles to probe deep inside her. Alison loses control and begins to beg… "Pleeeaze, Mistress… No no no please don't do it… don't let them hurt me… Please don't… Please Please Please…" Fiona slaps her face, bringing tears to her eyes and shutting her up instantly. "Be grateful we don't make you take it straight…" she warns the trembling slave girl. "One more outburst from you and we'll do your pussy piercings without the benefit of any anesthesia… Is that what you want?" "N… No, Mistress…" the cowed submissive gulps… "It's just that I'm so frightened… I… I can't help it…" "Well, try not to piss yourself… I'll be very upset if you stain the couch…" the sultry governess warns sarcastically. Just then the doorbell rings. It is time. Alison's heart, which had been up in her throat, sinks down to her daintily painted toes.

Fiona gets up and throws open the door to their two visitors. It is Spider, dressed in his customary get-up and carrying his black bag, accompanied by another long-haired greasy hippie-biker type. The man known as Monster is not at all what Alison had expected. He is of average height and kind of flabby-looking, with round granny glasses, balding and with a wispy blondish moustache and beard. More the sort of guy you'd expect to work at some head shop or esoteric book store than a brutal Hell's Angel type. He wears baggy jogging pants and sneakers and a black t shirt with the name of some obscure arty band on it. Fiona ushers them in, standing them before her lovely prisoner as she sits there on the couch shifting herself around uncomfortably in her plugged bondage.

"You remember Spider, don't you Alison? This is his friend Fred, although most people just call him Monster. You'll find out why later. "Hiya, babe…" sez Spider casually. "How they hangin? Say hello to my buddy here…"

How could she forget the man who just yesterday pierced her sensitive pink nipples with the thick silver rings that now dangle from her throbbing tits. A choking lump of fear and anguish knots her throat, rendering her unable to speak. "Say hello to the nice man…" Fiona orders her sharply. "H… Hello, Mister Monster… Fred…" the terrified slave girl gulps, feeling a little silly. The guy known as Monster just stands there grinning foolishly, his eyes glittering behind his glasses as he ogles her lissome body. The redness of her shaved mound is still readily apparent, and she feels the bookish-looking freak's eyes fastening on it as he looks at her questioningly. "Tell the man why your cunt is so red, Alison…" her mistress demands… "Speak up, unless you want some more…" "Uh… M… Mistress Fiona punished my pussy for uh… for coming without permission…" the humbled blonde is forced to admit, staring at the floor in humiliation.

"Damn straight, bitch… now sit down and relax, boys, and check out this action…" the brunette suggests. "It'll help us all get in the mood…" Fiona flicks on the TV, showing a tape of last night's activities here at the apartment as she goes off to the kitchen to bring the guys a couple of beers. Alison sits there silent and mortified as the two men sit down on either side of her on the couch, their attention drawn to the television screen as the scene of last night's whipping progresses. The blonde reddens with shame as she witnesses herself wantonly humping her crotch against the obsidian whipping post as she is beaten, making herself come again and again to the relentless pounding of Slate's cat on her heart-shaped ass.

"I'd say her training is coming along pretty well…" Fiona comments. "We've got her coming to the whip already." The men are leaning forward, their eyes riveted on the screen and their cocks starting to harden in their pants. Alison cringes and winces as she sees Slate take the crop to her butt, hears herself screaming and pleading helplessly for mercy as he marks her, once again made conscious of the tenderness of the blackened welts that mar the whiteness of her rear. Tonight and every night she will be whipped again, he has promised her. By the time the two men are finishing their beers, the scene of her receiving her anal injections is playing on the screen.

Spider's eyes narrow and he grins fiercely as he witnesses the long gleaming needles sinking deeper and deeper into her quivering pink and defenselessly open rectum as she is belted tightly to the bondage bench. "Yeah… give it to her up the ass…" he mutters sadistically. Alison squirms in silence, wishing a hole would open up in the earth and swallow her, butterflies of fear fluttering in her belly. She knows that watching these scenes will only inflame the twisted lusts of the strange and evil man who has come to pierce her nakedly hairless pussy. Spider puts an arm around her shoulders, reaching up with his other hand to cup and fondle one of the outthrust breasts as she squirms her fingers helplessly where her hands remain fastened behind her back. "What do you think of these tits, huh, Monster?"

"Nice jewelry, man… You do good work…" sez his cohort, reaching up to examine the rings hanging from the blonde's tender pink paps, giving them a few gentle tugs and making Alison wince. "Seems to be healing up nicely… just keep using that ointment I gave you and there shouldn't be any problem…" says the gaunt-looking tattoo artist. "Don't worry, Spider… I know the drill…" replies Fiona. Meanwhile, on the big TV screen Alison is getting her ass reamed out by Slate's goony henchmen, moaning and slurping on her master's oversized unit as it thrusts in and out of her throat. "You gotta try some of that ass action…" Spider suggests to his raptly watching buddy. "She takes it up there real sweet. Lookit her sucking that cock…" "You betcha, man… I can't wait…" sez the bespectacled hippie, practically drooling all over himself. Alison burns in mortification, hearing her most personal attributes discussed as if she were a piece of prime steak about to be devoured.

"Handy little gadget, that bench…" observes Spider as he drains the last of his beer, stubbing out his cigarette… "I should get one of those for my shop. Whattaya say we get things rolling here… Let's get this hot little slave bitch ready. She looks like some sort of virgin bride in this white get-up… so sweet and innocent. Let's stand her up and get her over to the bench there… we've got a lot of work to do."

Spider and his recycled hippie friend take the trembling girl by her upper arms, helping her to her feet, and half-lead, half-drag her across the room to the bondage bench. Shaking and weak with fear, her arms bound behind her, she can offer little resistance as they sit her down on the bottom edge of the bondage device. Although she is tempted to beg and plead for mercy, the trembling girl remembers her Mistress' warning, and realizes that this would only bring her further abuse, so she just bites her lip as they sit her down on the bottom edge of the bench. Fiona reaches down to unbuckle the cruppering strap attached to her corset and holding the twin plugs in place. "Belt her in there good and tight…" Spider advises… "I don't want her wiggling around and spoiling my aim." Each of the men takes one of the terrified girl's slender arms and brings it up over her head as Fiona unlocks the clip holding her wrist cuffs together, pushing her down so that she is lying on her back on the padded white vinyl.

Soon Alison's weakly strugging hands are fastened tightly to the top of the frame, her arms stretched out straight and pulled tightly above her head. Fiona presses down on her belly, holding her still as her neck, her chest and her waist are strapped down tightly to the device, totally immobilizing the upper half of her body. "No no no no…" the blonde moans, thrashing her head from side to side helplessly as the men take her high heeled boots and lift them up into the stirrups, spreading her legs wide and strapping her ankles into place with her knees doubled back on either side above her, forcing her weight onto the small of her back and raising and opening her crotch and buttocks where they rest at the very edge of the bench. Fiona bends down to remove the two greasy white plugs from her stretched cunt and asshole, removing the strap to reveal her recently-whipped and nakedly hairless pussy in all its glory, gently spreading her inner labia to expose the glistening pink-magenta membranes of the interior of the slave girl's cunt. She takes the belt and plugs and tosses them aside. Alison can clean them later.

"Nice pussy, huh, boys?" Fiona smirks, stroking a finger up between Alison's widespread lips to tickle the underside of her clit, making the bound girl whimper in apprehension and arousal. "Yeah, but it's too much plain vanilla… It needs some decoration…" the creepy-looking biker mutters darkly. "Well, that's what you're here for…" the dark-haired bitch observes. I guess she's ready for her shots now. Let me get her little cunt ready for you… I put some cocaine in the mix to numb her up a little bit and keep her nice and excited…"

"Very good…" says Spider. "Maybe we'll do a couple snorts of this here methedrine while you're working on the bitch…" he suggests, laying out a couple of lines on the coffee table for himself and his friend as Fiona pulls a stool up between the shackled blonde's legs where she lies open and waiting, setting her tray down beside her with its array of six gleaming 5cc hypodermics. On the TV screen in the background, Alison is still getting her butt fucked by Slate's goon squad, the sound of their bellies bouncing off her upraised buns reverberating around the room in time with her grunts and groans of pain and pleasure. As Spider and his buddy snort up the crystal meth in the background, their eyes light up with fiendish intensity, watching Fiona as she takes an alcohol wipe and carefully cleans every delicate fold of her captive's defenseless slit. Alison whimpers and grits her teeth as the stuff stings and burns her sensitive inner membranes, her whole body from the neck down tied so tightly that she can't even twitch. "There there…" her mistress murmurs soothingly. "We've got to keep the area sterile… You don't want to get an infection down there, do you?"

Alison doesn't even try to answer this rhetorical question, sick with apprehension and dread as he kinky keeper raised the first of her hypodermics with its gleaming one inch needle up to the light, squeezing out a bubble of air and sending a thin jet of narcotic solution up into the atmosphere. Fiona places the flat of her rubber-gloved left hand on the mound above Alison's hairless slit, using her thumb to pull the flesh above the helpless girl's hooded clitoris up, exposing the underside of her fearfully stiffening little joy button. Carefully, she stabs about a half an inch of the first needle up into the core of the slave girl's sexual nerve center, bending down close to concentrate on her work.

Alison's breath, which she had been unconsciously holding, explodes from her mouth in a gasp as she is penetrated. Slowly, Fiona depresses the plunger of the syringe, squeezing out a couple of ccs right behind the head of her prisoner's clit, waiting a minute with the needle poised there as the drugs begin to take effect. Soon the by now familiar warm tingling numbness and feeling of fullness is beginning to spread through the upper regions of the enslaved receptionist's soft pink cunt, making her sigh audibly as she begins to relax in her bondage. The sharp point of the needle jabs more deeply into the shaft of nerves and cartilage leading to her swollen and throbbing feminine erection, making the defenselessly spread-eagled blonde whimper and moan softly as Fiona probes within her, burying the inch-long needle to the hilt now, injecting more and more of the soothing and stimulating narcotic solution as she goes, emptying the first of the 5cc syringes and pulling it free from her clinging cunt flesh. Alison's eyes close and her mouth hangs open as the drugs flow through her bloodstream and reach her head in a dizzying rush, making her muscles melt into mush and her pussy flow with her sweet secretions as the cocaine in the mix send sparkling thrills of excitement up and down her spine, making her swollen little clitoris harden and rise as if begging for more.

Fiona takes a second syringe with its longer two inch needle in her black gloved hand, bringing it up from underneath to thrust it deeply up and into the top of the spaced-out sex slave's moist pink slit, searching for the root of her clit where it is buried deep inside her. Alison can hardly feel the sharp tip of the needle that penetrates her until it reaches a point an inch or so inside her, somewhere up and behind her little joy button, where the numbness has not yet spread and the nerves bundle and disappear into her belly. Her breath catches in her throat and a fat tear squeezes from the corner of her eye as Fiona probes more deeply inside the center of her feminine nexus with the glittering steel needle, piercing and hurting her in her innermost core, spreading soothing narcotic bliss and scintillating thrills of excitement deeper and deeper into her soft belly.

Fiona pulls the needle back an inch or so, only to thrust it in again at a different angle, not stopping until the chrome nut at the base is pressed up hard against the pink underside of Alison's clit and squeezing the plunger of the syringe as she goes, spreading the drug solution around, sinking the shaft this way and that, finally angling it straight back to bury it two inches deep right there underneath her pubic bone, filling her insides with narcotized warmth and making her captive shiver and ooh and ahh in cunty arousal. Meanwhile, Spider and his hippie pal have finished their business and have stripped down to their shorts, sauntering over to observe Fiona at her work.

"Yeah…" Spider says… "No doubt about it… she's digging it now…" Alison hears his words as if from a million miles away, lost in her own world, her heart pounding madly and her pulse throbbing in her ears as the heat and excitement build within, reaching deeper and deeper inside her, filling her hips with liquid rapture. Her clit and the whole upper part of her cunt are now completely numb, yet still tinglingly alive and responsive to the slightest touch. She moans and tosses her head from side to side, ready for more now, totally abandoning herself to the needle and the sensations it brings her. Fiona picks up a third syringe and gets to work on Alison's smooth and hairless pussy lips, getting them ready for the piercings to come. Spreading the fat outer labia wide with her fingers, she works up and down the length of her captive's slit with the needle, doing one side and then the other, stabbing it into her fleshy outer pussylips again and again until the whole syringe is emptied and the warm tingling is spreading lower and lower down between the trembling and whimpering sex slave's widespread legs. This done, the sultry brunette picks up the fourth hypo, identical to the last, and spreads the lovely blonde's delicate inner labia with her rubber-gloved fingers, exposing the glistening pink inner workings of the helpless girl's cunt.

Slowly and carefully she sinks the fourth inch-long needle into the soft flesh where the captive blonde's inner lips merge with the interior of her pussy, once again working up and down their length from the top where they meet at the hood of her clit to the bottom on either side of her moist vaginal entrance. Over and over again she stabs the shining steel lancet through the skin into the soft tissues underneath, depressing the plunger of the hypo as she goes and injecting another 5ccs of narcotic solution directly into Alison's sensitive inner membranes, numbing the outside of her shaved little twat completely right down to the perineum. Alison is completely out of it by now, stoned out of her mind and completely unaware of anything except for the probing needles moving inside her gushy young cunt, floating in a dreamworld of narcotic ecstasy and sexual heat. And there are still two more syringes to go.

The enslaved receptionist is so far gone by now that she barely flinches as Fiona takes the fifth hypo with its wicked two inch needle and thrusts it directly into the squishy pink membranes at the mouth of her vagina, sinking it deep into the rings of soft muscle inside and squeezing out a couple of ccs and then withdrawing, only to stab it into her again and again, working around in a circle inside her moistly open hole until even the inside of her most feminine place is throbbing and tingling with drugged excitement and the worm numbness is billowing up inside her belly, filling her whole pelvis inside and out. The tightly tied blonde whimpers and gasps softly in fear and arousal as her mistress pierces and probes within her wet sex hole, the muscles inside her pussy and ass fluttering uncontrollably in sluttish excitement. Tossing aside the fifth needle now that it has been emptied, Fiona takes a shining chrome speculum from the tray beside her and carefully inserts it into the bound blonde's now narcotized vaginal opening, turning the little screw thing at the side to spread her open wider… wider… wider until it is gaping open and you can see several inches up inside.

If there was any question about where the sixth needle was going it is settled now… Fiona meticulously threads the shining glass syringe with its frightening three-inch needle between the blades of the speculum and directly up into Alison's quivering womb, not stopping until the whole barrel of the thing is buried inside her and the needle is stabbing right up into the mouth of her cervix. Relentlessly she drives it in there, spearing her right to the core, transfixing the drugged-out blonde totally on the sharp steel of her piercing shaft. Alison burbles and tosses her head from side to side, her eyes tightly closed as the drugs flow into her, deep inside her belly, her head spinning and her bowels spasming uncontrollably in terror and arousal. "If she hadn't had such a thorough enema she'd probably be shitting herself by now…" Fiona comments to the onlooking men as she finally empties the last syringe and deliberately pulls it out of the captive girl's clinging milking sex hole. "I think she's ready for you now…" the brunette comments as she scoots herself back from between the stirrups of the bondage bench, picking up her tray of hypodermic supplies and carrying it away.

The man known as Spider steps over to the stool still situated between Alison's wide-spread legs, setting his black bag down on the table as Fiona sits herself down on the couch to give herself a fix now that her work is done. With an expression of fiendish glee and concentration on his face, the greasy-haired tattoo artist draws on a pair of rubber surgical gloves and lays out his gleaming instruments on the table from the bag beside him, pulling them from their cellophane wrappers and laying them out carefully on a sterile white cloth. Forceps, several sizes of surgically sharp piercing needles, silver rings and bars with locking beads in various designs and gauges, alcohol wipes and cauterizing styptic ointment…

The guy they call Monster stands there looking over his buddy's shoulder breathing hard, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead and his eyes glittering behind his little round glasses as he stares down at the smooth pinkness of the tightly tied sex slave's smooth pussy lips, now completely anesthetized and ready for piercing. Both men are now dressed only in their shorts, and it is now becoming apparent how Monster got his name. The freakish and swelling lump of flesh that bulges and twitches beneath the fabric of his boxer shorts and snakes down his leg is the size of a salami, easily fifteen inches long and as thick around as Alison's slender wrist, making an absurd contrast to the rather ineffectual-looking individual it is attached to. Spider unwraps an alcohol wipe and once again carefully cleans every fold of the helpless blonde's smoothly hairless twat, making it tingle and burn fiercely for a moment.

Meanwhile, Alison is totally lost in a narcotic never-never land, her body and mind reduced to quivering jello, her eyes closed and her mouth gaping open slackly as she pants for breath, only dimly aware of the movement between her legs or what is about to be done to her. She whimpers slightly as Spider takes a pair of gleaming chrome forceps, clamping her slippery clitoral hood tightly between its steel jaws and drawing it up and away from her body. He carefully measures the length of her little hoodie, which is actually quite long and prominent. Good… the bigger it is the more metal it can hold. "Might as well start at the top…" he mutters over his shoulder to his drooling pal. "I find that vertical clitoral piercing is much the best for these masochistic little slave bitches… far superior to the old horizontal method…" he remarks conversationally to Fiona, who is looking on from the couch as she spreads her legs and plunges a hypodermic into her fat pussy lip, finding a vein and booting up a goodly dose of narcotics for herself now that her work is done. "I achieve much greater sensitivity this way, reaching deeper into the actual nerve shaft behind the head of the clit…" the grizzled biker goes on… "Of course, it is somewhat more painful at first, but then they don't mind… and they soon get used to it. Not that they have any choice, of course…"

Taking the wickedly sharp piercing instrument in his hand, he brings it up underneath, using his other hand to hold the forceps. Unlike the hypodermic needles which had pierced her earlier, this devilish lance is easily twice as thick, actually a #12 gauge. In time she may be stretched further… she will be stretched further. But for now it's a good place to start, and for a novice it will be a lot to get used to. He tells the spaced=out blonde to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. She is so far gone she never even hears him. Without further ado, he stabs the thing into her, up underneath her hood and deep into the shaft of nerves and soft tissue that lead to her clit. Relentlessly he drives it through her, a quarter of an inch at a time, releasing the forceps and angling it back towards the surface of her skin as it approaches the top of her mound. With a final sharp push, the thing breaks through the skin at the top of her hood shaft, a good two inches from where it begins. Being well experienced at this sort of thing, Spider is able to do the piercing deeply enough so that it touches the nerve without actually piercing through it, which might actually tend to deaden sensation in the area. Alison's eyes pop open wide as she feels her most intimate feminine core being skewered, the sensation incredibly intense in spite of all the drugs running through her. She gasps and whimpers, but of course she is powerless to defend herself from this terrifying procedure, so tightly is she bound. Her hands rattle the chains where they are fastened up over her head and she thrashes her head around but with her waist and thighs belted firmly to the bench her hips are staying right where they are. She rather feels like a big fat nail has been driven into her clit, which is not far from the truth. It hurts, but there's something incredibly stimulating about it, too, and in spite of her pain and fear her cunt gushes with moisture. Every atom of her being is focused right there where the piercing needle rubs against her clitoral nerve shaft down deep inside her. She realizes that it's going to be difficult to ever think about anything else. No doubt this is what Slate had in mind when he ordered this to be done. By forcing her to wear this piercing, he has exerted a level of control over her and brought her to a depth of submission that she never could have imagined was possible in her earlier life. Even when she's not actually being used, her mind will always be drawn right back to the thick shaft piercing her hot little slave cunt, where it belongs. This frightens her, but somehow it also makes her excited. So excited she's actually close to coming, although she doesn't realize it in her drugged state. Swirls and eddies of pain and terror whirl around her brain, mixed up with shockingly hot gushes and flashes of cunty arousal.

Meanwhile, Spider goes on about his business, neither knowing nor caring what emotional apotheosis the lovely blonde is undergoing as he frowns in fiendish concentration. His friend stands behind him, panting and drooling, his eyes bugging out of their sockets as the monstrous lump of manflesh in his shorts swells and throbs, looking like a giant snake trying to escape from its cage. The greasy-haired tattoo artist prepares a two-inch silver barbell, slightly curved to reach down deeper in the middle, greasing it up with a little sterile styptic ointment and removing the bead and ring from the bottom end of it, exposing the threaded and rounded point of the thing. This he carefully feeds into the hole he has created in the bound girl's sex flesh, slowly withdrawing the piercing needle, pulling it out from below, and feeding the barbell in after it from the top down until the piercing instrument finally drops free and the rounded point of the silver shaft is protruding just underneath the panting slave girl's clit hood right above her little joy button. He methodically screws the beaded end onto there, using the attached ring to get a better grip on the little thing which is already becoming slippery with Alison's juices. When he is done, the large bead at the bottom end of the barbell presses directly on top of the girl's jumping and twitching clit, which will be sure to keep it in a more-or-less constant state of arousal as long as the piercing remains in place.

To say that Alison's attention has been riveted to this procedure would be an understatement. In fact it is difficult for the young girl to imagine how she will ever be able to think of anything else other than the electrifying sensations that have been created in her hot shaved young cunt. How will she ever be able to keep herself from coming a hundred times a day? She stares up at the ceiling, glassy eyed, straining to get used to the feeling of so much metal stretching her inside, throbbing heatedly within her with every beat of her heart. It stings, it burns, but she's starting to like it. In truth, the symbolic and shock value of this event may fade somewhat as the days and weeks go by, but there will never be a time when she will not be achingly conscious and aware of what has been done to her and of the new status and role in life that it implies. Unlike Spider, Fiona observes Alison's reactions intently, following every nuance of expression on her captive's face, as much amused by the emotional changes her lovely roommate is going through as by the actual events taking place. Meanwhile, a dark thought is beginning to blossom in the back of the tightly bound blonde's mind… what will it feel like to get fucked with this thing inside her like this? It's going to be unbelievably intense. She realizes that she will no doubt be finding out soon. The thought makes her squirm, or at least she would if she was able to.

Alison relaxes within her bonds, surrendering herself totally to the sensations of the moment, fearful and yet also sluttishly eager for whatever further plans her Master has made for her. Who would have thought that being a slave could be so liberating, she wonders, feeling a joy and freedom she has never experienced before… a freedom to feel without inhibition or shame, to experience herself as a woman with heretofore unimaginable intensity. Her hot little clit stands up at attention and burns and throbs helplessly around the silver bar piercing it, knowing that she will wear it tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, totally lost in a world of whorish sexual submission and drugged-out sensuality.

Alison's reverie is suddenly and rudely interrupted as her gaunt-looking tormentor seizes both of her slippery inner labia between his thumb and forefinger, stretching them out away from her body and clamping the steel forceps around their ragged edges about a half inch from the top. Quickly he thrusts the cold steel of his piercing lance through the triangular hole in the end of the forceps, skewering both her inner lips at once, making the tightly bound blonde gasp and whimper as he works the needle back and forth inside the holes, making sure it moves freely. Finally he removes the forceps, pulling the piercing instrument out and applying a cauterizing styptic ointment to the wound he has made, then threading a thickish silver ring about a half inch in diameter through each of the holes and locking it in place with a silver bead. Twice more he repeats this procedure, first piercing through the little lips halfway down and then again close to the bottom on either side of her gaping vagina. In a matter of minutes, six gleaming silver rings are dangling from the helpless babe's tender inner lips, three on each side.

Alison"s lips are trembling as she sobs, fat tears running down her cheeks with the knowledge of what has been done to her, feeling the coldness and weight of the metal that penetrates her, marking her forever as some kind of sick sex slave and whore. Fiona looks on, smirking in amusement, fully aware of the changes her cute little captive must be going through. It's a good thing she's wearing waterproof mascara or her makeup would be all over her face. With all this hardware in her cunt she can think of nothing else. Although not in a tremendous amount of pain due to the drugged numbness and warmth that pervades her body from the waist down, nevertheless the physical and psychic trauma of her mutilation is intense. The lovely blonde's whole pussy throbs relentlessly and swells in response, sending hot flashes up her spine that explode behind her eyes. Spider finally pushes his stool back, fingering the rings to spread her lips and stick a couple of rubber-gloved fingers up her cunt and asshole at once, making the bound girl grunt and moan helplessly. Slowly he works them in and out of her spasmodically clutching sex holes, opening her up. "How do you like my handiwork?" he rhetorically asks his long-haired friend, who is still standing there behind him with his mouth hanging open. "Uhh… Very neat job, Spider… You're a pro, no question about it…"

"I wouldn't use her pussy too much for the next day or two…" Spider advises as he continues pumping his bony fingers in and out of the gasping blonde… "Give it a little time to heal up… otherwise it might get infected. No reason she can't get fucked in her ass, though. Probably be good for her. You don't want to let her rectum tighten up on you again after all you've been doing to stretch it out." "Sounds like a good plan to me…" Fiona agrees as she sits on the couch languidly fingering her black-haired twat "After all, there's no time like the present. Why don't you give it a try? Ream her out a little and loosen her up for your friend here. I'll see what I can do to get him ready for her… C'mon over here, Monster… let me see what you've got there…" Hearing these words as if from a great distance, Alison's slippery pussy and asshole contract and tighten involuntarily around Spider's probing fingers with the knowledge that she is about to be fucked. Is it fear, or desire, or both?

The guy known as Monster shambles over to the couch, shaking himself out of the trance he was in as he stared hypnotized through the piercing of Alison's sweetly shaved cunt. His long snaky penis is already swollen and throbbing, dripping with pre-come and ready to burst out of the loose boxer shorts that half conceal it. Fiona reaches up to pull down his underwear, gasping in amazement at the size of his turgid pecker as it is revealed in all its glory. "Holy Shit!" she exclaims… "Your momma must have done it with a bull to give birth to something like that… No offense, but I've never seen anything like that outside of a stable… How did you ever come by such a thing?" "I dunno… Just lucky I guess…" the goofy-looking hippie type answers with some embarrassment. "Actually it's been kind of a problem for me… Most women are scared of it." "Well, today must be your lucky day, then…" Fiona replies… "Little Alison here would love to take it all right up her girlish ass…"

"Are you sure it will fit?" the bespectacled freak asks rather naively. "We'll just have to make it fit…" Fiona answers firmly. "Let me just warm it up a little for you while Spider opens her up a bit…" The kinky black-haired bitch bends to her work, taking the bloated tip of Monster's half-hard dick between her bright red lips and sucking eagerly on his knob. It's all she can do to fit the head of the thing into her warm wet mouth. Monster leans back and sighs as his enormous unit stiffens further under the brunette's ministrations.

Meanwhile, over at the other end of the room, Spider is getting ready to shove his greasy crooked crank to the hilt up Alison's exposed and hairless pink anus, stepping up close between her raised and widespread legs and fisting it to rub it up and down in the crack of her buttocks. Alison whines and whimpers as he toys with the bar piercing her clit with his other hand, making her shudder and stiffen as he strokes his long bony finger over the super-sensitive head of her clit. Slowly he sinks the length of his dick into the soft heat of her clutching inner bowels, prying her open easily, the muscles of her delicate rectum weak with terror and fluttering uncontrollably in sluttish excitement. For a long minute he lets it rest there, buried to the hilt, feeling the helpless blonde's squishy inner membranes slithering and squeezing around the length of his shaft. Every time he touches her clit her bowels clench around him, milking submissively on his rock hard cock as the beautiful babe coos and snivels in humiliated rapture.

Looking down at the glittering rings adorning her throbbing pink cunt, knowing that he was the one who put them there drives the sadistic biker into a frenzy of perverted lust. Savagely he starts pounding his dick into her with all his might, faster and faster, his hairy belly slapping loudly off her soft upturned white butt cheeks, making them ripple like jello. Alison squeals and gasps and sobs in time with the pile-driving thrusts of his hairy unit into the depths of her quivering ass, totally surrendered to the power of his manly member, her belly tightening and spasming uncontrollably beneath him. A massive orgasm coils in the pit of her stomach, building and building, making her shake with the tension of her need for release.

Suddenly, she feels a burning heat spurting deep inside her bowels as Spider throws his head back and lets loose with an unearthly howl, his twitching dick jetting blast after blast of viscous white jism into her seething anal core. Alison clamps down on him like a vise, shaking and shuddering as she comes and comes and comes, grinding her teeth and shaking her head around with the intensity of her passion as multicolored fireworks explode inside her head and shivers of scintillating excitement run up and down her spine. Spider falls back like he'd been struck over the head with a sledge hammer, staggering over to the L-shaped sectional couch in the corner where Fiona is still sucking the Monster's oversized dick and collapsing in a corner. "Not bad, huh?…" Fiona smiles as she takes her mouth momentarily from the huge lump of manmeat that she's been working on. "Not bad indeed…" Spider gasps weakly, lighting up one of the everpresent Camels… "Little Alison here should turn out to be quite a moneymaker for the Boss when he decides to turn her out. What do you think of her cunt jewelry?"

Fiona rises from the dove-grey sectional and saunters over to the bondage bench for a better look, leading Monster along behind her by his oversized crank. "Definitely makes a fashion statement…" the brunette observes cynically, bending down to look more closely and gently fingering the array of glittering rings that now decorate the tightly tied blonde's sensitive shaved sex flesh. "I'll be back tomorrow to do her big lips and work on her tattoo…" Spider promises. "No sense overdoing it and anyway the bitch wore me out for today…"

Alison lies there passively, nearly unconscious, still rocking with the afterglow of her massive orgasms, her pussy and asshole reflexively twitching and throbbing. A thin stream of come and mucosa seeps from her swollen pink rectum and dribbles slowly down the crack of her buttocks. "Wake up, cutie…" Fiona taunts the well-fucked receptionist… "I've got a little surprise for you…" A little surprise indeed… Monster's fifteen inch cock is now hard as a baseball bat and almost as thick, twitching and jumping with eagerness to be buried in the bound submissive's soft hot interior. Fiona takes a dollop of greasy lube from a jar sitting by the side of the bondage bench and smears it up and down the length of the man's monstrously swollen purplish dork, pumping it up with her hand to keep it good and stiff. Not that he needs the help. Monster is practically drooling with sodomistic lust as he steps in closer to the immobilized girl, letting Fiona guide the head of his mammoth member to the helpless sex slave's puckered anal entrance.

Alison's eyes pop open wide as she first feels the size of his freakish dick knob prying at the still sensitive entrance of her aching back channel. "OHHH…MY…GODDD…" she gasps as he goes at it harder now, stretching the delicate membranes of her rectum wider and wider, leaning his weight into her and forcing his humongous truncheon deeper into her defenselessly exposed backside, slowly and relentlessly prying her open and spreading her pinkish clinging asshole around his massive girth. 'PLEASE… PLEEASSE… PLEEEASSSE…" she sobs and cries out, fat tears of shame and pain running down her cheeks as her tender sphincter is stretched to the limit and beyond, feeling it finally tear and loosen as the fist-sized head of the goofy-looking hippie's cock pops inside her. Her wounded rectum spasms uncontrollably, trying to force the painful intruder back out, but succeeds only in massaging the glans of his cock adoringly, encouraging him to slowly drive another inch or two into her seething hot interior.

Inexorably, the greasy shaft of the Monster's gargantuan unit presses further forward, sinking deeper and deeper into her tight slick colon, pushing and shoving aside her innards as she is forced to make way for his driving manmeat, her tightly stretched shit chute made to straighten inside her to accommodate his incredible length. The helpless blonde grunts and groans and cries unashamedly as his burning thickness augers further and further into the depths of her bowels, stuffing her so full of dick that her eyes are bulging and threatening to pop out of their sockets. Powerless to even twitch, all she can do is take it, and then take some more. Finally, it is done, the entire fifteen inches of his engorged veiny pecker penetrating to the hilt in her soft squishy insides. Alison can feel the head of his cock poking somewhere up behind her belly button, deeper inside her than anything has ever touched her before, as her weakly spasming and ripped sphincter grips tightly around the broad base of his hairy dick.

Her head is spinning with fear and exertion, beads of sweat popping out on her forehead and her pulse pounding in her temples, her face as red as a beet with the strain of adjusting to his impaling hugeness. It's as though someone had shoved their whole arm up to the elbow up her ass. "I can't believe she took the whole thing…" the guy called Monster says with wonderment, reveling in the grip of her slippery pink membranes along the length of his dick.

"Don't worry, she'll get used to it…" Fiona comments tartly. "As a matter of fact, unlike a pussy the rectum has no actual back wall, so you can get almost any length of shaft up there, if you work hard enough at it. Just give her a minute…" In fact, Alison is already beginning to relax slightly, her exhausted bowels finally giving up their futile struggle and slackening their grip as her body surrenders itself to this sodomistic impalement. She's just too tired and helpless to fight it any more. Though still stretched painfully tight, she can feel herself involuntarily opening and accommodating his massive girth, her ass guts pushing down against it to ease the pain and pressure inside her. Gradually, her face is losing that scrunched-up look, becoming once more dreamy and sensuously serene… A liquid tremor of excitement flutters in her belly, a hot jolt of cunty sexy submission radiating from her upstanding little clit as it throbs around the thick metal bar that pierces her. Oh god… It's so deep… so deep… Her pink lipsticked mouth falls open and a moan escapes her lips. "Go ahead and give it to her…" Fiona commands… "Ream her out good. Look at her… she's digging it now. Isn't that right, Alison?" the brunette asks sharply. The captive blonde writhes in shame, knowing the answer her mistress expects, hating herself for her servility but wanting more… needing more now…

"Yesss, Mistress…" the captive blonde gasps. "Yesss… Go ahead and give it to me… fuck me up the ass with your giant cock, Mister Monster… Don't be afraid… I can take it… Go ahead and fuck me just as hard as you want… I… I like it inside me… I… I love it… I love it…" The words trail off into a long drawn out moan as the incredibly well-endowed long hair starts to move within her, his perverted lust inflamed to the boil by her halting and fawning confession. Slowly he pulls back about a foot of his throbbing cockmeat from the blonde's softly clinging rectum, slamming it back into her with all the force he can muster. The air rushes out of Alison's lungs as she gasps for breath, panting like a racehorse on the homestretch. "OHHH YESSS… FUCK MEEE…" the humiliated young slave girl begs him… "FUCK ME UP THE ASSS… OOOOOH YESSS… THAT'S GOOD… OHHH GODDD…"

Faster and harder his huge pounding dick drives in and out of her straining and spasmodically clutching anal canal, battering her insides unmercifully. She grunts and groans loudly in time with his thrusts, but not once does she tell him to stop as he punches into the bound nympho's responsively clutching bowels like a jackhammer in high gear, making her see stars. All Alison can do is ride it out, her fingers twisting in the cuffs that hold her hands high above her thrashing head as she revels in her helplessness and subjugation, utterly dominated by the brutal pounding so deep inside her. Totally lost in the thrilling and yet still somewhat painful sensations that rock her, all fifteen inches of dick are slipping in and out of the violated blonde quickly and easily now, making loud squishing and farting noises as he gives her the full length of it again and again and again, churning up her ass guts and threatening to rip her butt hole out with the fury of his thrusts.

"OOOOH… AHHHHH… UNGHHHH… OOOOOHHH… AAAHHHHH… UNGHHHH…" the captive slut moans, a storm gathering in the pit of her stomach as she quakes under his assault. Her pierced little clitty is jumping and twitching eagerly as his flabby belly smacks against her soft shaved mound, making the rings in her cunt lips jingle and dance around. "MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING DIRTY LITTLE WHORE…" the long-haired freak mutters, repeating the words like a mantra over and over again as he whips himself into a frenzy, sweat pouring down his face and fogging up his round little glasses as he fucks her savagely, sadistically… Who would have thought he had it in him, Fiona muses to herself as she observes these proceedings. Just shows to go ya… given the right stimulus any man can be turned into a lust-crazed beast… or any woman into a mindless slut… "Permission to come, Mistress…" the blonde begs plaintively. "Go ahead, little slut puppy…" Fiona replies… "You've earned this one…"

The little rings of muscle inside the lovely blonde's petite rectum and vagina are rippling and fluttering uncontrollably now as her belly seizes and contracts, snapping off the first of a long series of orgasms. She just can't stop herself from coming again and again, whining and whinnying shamelessly, sobbing with joy and rapture at her ravishment and degradation. "PLEASSE… PLEASSE… PLEASSE…" the beautiful sex slave begs breathlessly, looking up into the eyes of her impaler with an expression of abject surrender and devotion. "GIVE ME YOUR COME… I WANT TO FEEL IT SPURTING INSIDE ME… GIVE ME YOUR COME… PLEASE… PLEASE… PLEASE COME INSIDE ME… COME UP MY ASS… OOOH OOOH COME UP MY ASSSSS…"

That's all the guy known as Monster needs to push him over the edge> He sees red, an atomic bomb of lust exploding inside his head as he bucks and shivers, his grapefruit-sized balls tightening up and sending jet after jet of scalding semen down the length of his twitching throbbing horsemeat to spray from the tip like a firehose, bathing the depths of the sweetly submissive blonde's bowels with warm slimy sperm. "AARRRGGGHHH… URRGGHHHH… UNGHHHHHHHH…" he grunts like a linebacker at the line of scrimmage as he looses his load into the girl's squishy hot and receptive interior. Alison lets loose a long drawn out sigh as she feels the warmth blossoming within her, cooing in contentment and shivering with sluttish satisfaction, her hairless little cunt gushing with her sweet honey as she gently closes her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she sinks into an all-enveloping blackness.

Slowly the long-haired freak's outsized tool deflates inside her, finally plopping out of the fucked-out blonde with a gush. A thin trickle of come mixed with blood from the wounds he has opened inside her runs down the unconscious girl's asscrack and drips onto the surface of the white vinyl bench. "I think the bitch has fainted…" mutters Monster as he staggers away to collapse in a corner. "Jeeze I hope I didn't kill her…" Spider and Fiona laugh. "I don't think so…" smirks the olive-skinned brunette, flicking the button of the remote control to turn off the tape on the TV as she rises… "But I guess she needs a little rest. Spider, why don't you and your pal here give me a hand and carry her to her bed… I'll clean her up and get her out of this harness…"

Efficiently the kinky dominant wipes up the mess oozing from Alison's abused rear end and unbuckles her subject from the straps and stirrups that hold her to the bondage bench, releasing her wrists from the frame up above the prostrate girl's head but leaving them cuffed together. Somehow between the three of them they manage to pick up an carry the knocked-out submissive back to her room and lay her down on the four-poster bed. Fiona clips the wrist cuffs to the ring at the front of

Alison's collar, effectively preventing the girl from being able to touch herself down below. The shackled girl stirs slightly but does not wake. The brunette rolls her over onto her side to loosen the laces at the back of her corset a bit as the young blonde curls up in a fetal position. "Might as well let her breathe for a while as long as she's taking a nap… I'll wake her in a couple of hours for her plug training…"

Meanwhile, Spider goes back into the other room to pack his tools. "She's going to be pretty sore for a couple of days…" he warns… Don't forget to put some of that ointment on her, and make sure she doesn't touch those rings for a couple of days… We want them to heal up nice and clean, so don't let anybody fiddle with them too much just yet… ya got me? Salt water soaks will help, too…" "Yeah, yeah… I know the drill…" Fiona replies as she draws the frilly white satin coverlet to tuck Alison in and the creepy tattoo artist and his oversized pal pull on their grimy, shabby-looking clothes, getting ready to go. "See ya tomorrow, baby… same time, same station…" Spider calls as he ambles toward the door with his depleted buddy stumbling along behind. "Yeah… see ya later…" Fiona replies offhandedly, coming back to the living room area to shut the door behind them. It is just around three o'clock in the afternoon as the door slams shut and Alison's caretaker idly flips on the TV, sitting down on the couch with a glass of wine.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alison stirs fitfully in her slumber, the rings in her sex flesh beginning to ache and burn and throb abominably as the drugs in her bloodstream start to wear off. Her pussy and ass are swollen and sore from the abuse they have taken and the many injections that have pierced her. She feels an ugly pain deep inside her rectum where the Monster's cock has battered her delicate inner membranes. Suddenly her eyes pop open as she remembers who and what and where she is. For a few minutes she just lies there enduring it, not wanting to draw her Mistress' attention, knowing that once she wakes it will all begin all over again. Her hands pull at the cuffs where they are fastened to her collar, wishing she could rip the offending rings from her body, but it's hopeless of course. She can no more touch them than she could fly to the moon.

Some semblance of her former self has returned to her as her head clears, tormenting her with doubt and self-blame. Why oh why didn't she just get up and walk away, no run away, the moment Fiona took out the handcuffs that afternoon as they sat on the couch together? What idiotic slutty impulse led her to go ahead and fasten them around her own wrists? Why didn't she run out of the room screaming the moment that Slate first entered the room, instead of just sitting there, paralyzed, like a bird frozen in front of a cobra? From that point on, she realizes there's little she could have done. The dizzying rush of events that followed has carried her away into a heady and unknown world of slavery and sexual submission. Why oh why has her body betrayed her like this, melting into a pool of liquid acquiescence whenever she is whipped, when she should be filled with rage and a fierce determination to resist and escape? Why is it that the more Slate and his proxies hurt and humiliate her, the more she feels herself opening to him, surrendering herself, surrendering her will and her body eagerly and with shameful excitement?

The silver piercings itch and burn in her faithless cunt, that even now is beginning to moisten itself once again as she struggles in her bonds, tormented with guilt and self-loathing. She must be some kind of sick masochist to enjoy this kind of treatment. For she realizes that deep down she has no real desire to escape… that even now she is waiting perhaps more eagerly than her Master for the moment when he will return to her to lay his hands, or perhaps his whip, upon her. In any case, the point is moot… the die is cast. There can be no turning back now… Gathering her courage, she calls out for her keeper… “Mistress… Mistress Fiona… Please help me… It hurts… It hurts so much… Please come and help me… “

In a matter of moments the kinky brunette is there at her bedside, a shining 5cc syringe already prepared and in her hand. While her roommate was napping, Fiona has changed into a shiny black vinyl catsuit that hugs her ample curves tightly, with boots, belt and gloves to match. Alison shivers in dread and stares wide eyed as her mistress holds the hypodermic up to the light, giving her a good look at the three inch needle on the end of it. “I have your medicine all ready right here…” the black-haired bitch announces smugly… “But if you want it you're gonna have to take this long needle up inside your ass. Is that agreeable to you? It's your choice, dear. You could do without it if you like…”

“But it's so big… so looong…” the still shackled blond protests feebly, knowing in her heart that she really has no choice… Without the drugs there is too much pain…

“Nonsense, dear…” Fiona announces crisply. “We need a nice long needle to get down good and deep inside you… Now make up your mind… If you want what I have inside this syringe there's only one way you're gonna get it. Now roll over onto your tummy and get yourself up on your knees with your ass up in the air. Otherwise, stop wasting my time…”

Sighing inwardly with resignation, the blonde stuggles to comply with this demand. It's difficult with her shaking hands still shackled to the headboard, but eventually she gets herself up on her elbows and knees, cringing at the thought of what she has agreed to do and hating herself for giving in. She bites her lip, trying not to squirm with apprehension, her belly knotted in fear. “I thought you'd see it my way…” her mistress observes… “But your position isn't quite right… put your head down and get your ass up higher… move your knees apart further on the bed… that's it…” Alison burns with humiliation as she is forced to assume this degrading posture, opening and offering her widespread backside as if to an invisible lover. Fiona presses down on the small of her back, forcing her to arch her spine and further raising and opening her rear entrance. “That's good, dear…” her wardress declares… “Now just stay like that… Shall we call this Position Number One? It is one that you will no doubt be required to assume very frequently. Remember now that you must hold yourself perfectly still. After all, you wouldn't want to break this needle off in your ass by squirming around too much while it's inside you…” The very idea makes Alison cringe… unconsciously she holds her breath, awaiting the stab of the lance into the helplessly exposed membranes of her pink rectum. Fiona teases the girl a little, probing her hairless anus with a latex-gloved finger, working it open a little bit, making her gasp with fear and anxiety as her scared little sphincter and bowels flutter uncontrollably, forcing out a little bubble of gas. This amuses her mistress greatly.

Leaving about a half inch of her finger inside the blonde to pry her open and holding the syringe in her other hand, the cat-suited domina uses that finger to guide the shaft of the needle as she slowly sinks an inch or so of it into the coral-colored flesh inside the mouth of the terrified girl's fearfully twitching ass hole. Alison lets out a shrill little squeak as she is penetrated, but otherwise doesn't move a muscle, her whole being concentrated on holding herself absolutely rigid. Due to the extreme sharpness of the needle, it really doesn't hurt all that much, but the sensation is riveting, to say the least.

Fortunately for Alison, Fiona doesn't give her the whole three inches of steel up the ass at once, but rather feeds it in there slowly, squeezing out a little of the drug solution inside her and waiting for it to start creating a nice warm glow there before driving it deeper, doing the same thing again, easing it into the girl slowly. Of course, this is a more tedious and drawn-out process, but then that's all part of the fun… As a matter of fact, Fiona rather enjoys making the girl squirm on the end of her needle, drawing out the process, controlling her totally as she probes deeper and deeper, depressing the plunger of the syringe to inject more and more drugs into her fearfully churning ass guts. Meanwhile, the warm glowing feeling that had started just inside the mouth Alison's tight little rectum is billowing up deeper inside to fill her pelvis, rushing up her spine to swirl around inside her head as her body suddenly relaxes, her eyes closing and her mouth hanging open as she feels a dizzying rush. The burning ache of her piercings has faded to a pleasant warm throb… unconsciously she presses back with her hips, surrendering herself to the probing needle that fills her with this liquid extasy, wanting to feel it deeper now… deeper. Fiona smirks to herself as she works the thing around inside the girl, noting the transformation that has occurred as Alison gasps and moans with terrified arousal, finally emptying the last of her liquid dynamite in the depths of her captive's seething bowels.

The stoned-out blonde is unable to restrain a little whine of disappointment as her mistress finally pulls the long glittering instrument from her clinging anal flesh. It was just starting to feel really good up there. “Don't be greedy, Alison…” her mistress admonishes her. There will be lots more later… The Boss should be here in an hour or so. We don't want you to peak too early… Meanwhile, we have a bunch of things to do to get you ready. I've got to get you cleaned up and fix your make up and stuff. You want to look pretty for your big debut, don't you?” The captive receptionist lowers her eyes in shame at the way she has once again betrayed herself. What big debut? Alison wonders as she sinks back down on the bed, turning over onto her back. She feels a pleasant dreamy glow, excited and full of energy, yet somehow still relaxed and sensual, her fears and anguish banished as if they had never existed. “Spread your legs…” her mistress commands, breaking into her reverie.

Without a thought, Alison obeys, drawing up her knees to expose her smooth hairless pussy, digging the heels of the boots which she is still wearing into the bedspread to keep them from slipping. Once again she is flat on her back with her legs open. Strange how quickly she is getting used to being in that position, how comfortable she feels doing it. Fiona briefly toys with the rings that hang from her labia, spreading them apart and jabbing a finger into the girl's moist vaginal entrance. She reaches up with her thumb to flick the silver shaft that now skewers the hooded shaft at the top of her slit, making her lovely captive jerk and bite her lip anxiously. “They really do look sweet on you…” Fiona comments. “Don't worry I'm not going to hurt you… You should get up and take a look at them… Come on now it's time to get moving… Let's get you to the bathroom and freshen up a little.” The brunette reaches down and refastens Alison's white patent leash right to the little ring on the end of the shaft that pierces the slave girl's still sore and throbbing clitty. Even the slight jostling of fastening the little clip on the end of the leash sends nerve-tingling jolts radiating up in the blonde's hips. She doesn't even care to imagine what a sharp tug on the leash would feel like. Anyone who holds that ring will instantly command her immediate and total obedience. No doubt Slate will find this useful in the future. The silver clasp of the leash feels cold against her warm shaved pussyflesh. Finally, Fiona allows the still dreamily stoned and obediently spread-eagled submissive to lower her legs and unfastens Alison's wrists from the headboard of the bed, leaving them still clipped together in front of her to the collar around her neck. She helps the somewhat dazed and still loosely-corseted blonde to sit herself up and swing her legs over the side of the bed. Alison slips her feet into the high-heeled white maribou slippers as she stands up a bit unsteadily, allowing herself to be led along by the ring in her cunt and feeling quite anxious and helpless.

She teeters along behind her mistress, taking careful short steps to keep from losing her balance or jerking on the leash, her hands twisting around helplessly where they are still shackled clasped to her throat. As they get to the door communicating with their common bathroom, Alison catches her own reflection in the full length mirror that hangs there. She hardly even recognizes the girl who stares back at her. The silver piercings in her gleam and glitter in the light, their hard coldness making a bizarre and exciting contrast with the softness of her pale pink pussyflesh, announcing to the world the depths of her subjugation. Yet she is struck by how calm she looks… how untroubled and gentle. Whatever happened to the willful teasing bitch who used to live here? She wonders idly, remembering a different Alison. Perhaps Spider was right… maybe she needs a new name to go with her new identity. Doubtless they will think of something…

Fiona leads her over to the commode, gesturing to her to go ahead and squat. The brunette stands there over her, holding her leash as the shamed receptionist pisses long and loudly, blushing with embarrassment at the loud splashing of her urine in the bowl and by the wet farts that she cannot keep from escaping from her well-fucked rear. Unable to wipe herself with her hands still fastened to the collar around her neck, she is compelled to half-stand, half-squat there over the toilet as her mistress mops up her tush for her and flushes the mess away, making her feel even more childlike, humiliated and dependent. And she hasn't even had her enema yet.

“Hold that pose, sweetie…” Fiona commands, leaving Alison half bent over but turning her around so that she is facing the wall over the toilet and fastening her leash to a hook hanging in the wall there. The shackled blonde stands/squats awkwardly over the toilet, staring at the white tiled wall in strained silence and waiting abjectly to be penetrated as her mistress walks over to the sink and fills a big red rubber bag with hot steamy water, adding a few drops of some sort of solution to the mix. Probably some sort of disenfectant/spermicide. You could cut the silence with a knife.

For once I will spare the reader the messy details of what happens next. Suffice it to say that Fiona makes sure that her humiliated captive is thoroughly cleansed both inside and out before leading her back to the doorframe by the leash and fastening her cuffed hands to the hook up above her head there to once more tighten up the laces of her corset. Thus immobilized and stretched taught, the submissive blonde's already slender waist is compressed and constricted inexorably tighter and tighter as she gasps and pants for breath, her lovely bosom heaving rapidly as her mistress grunts with effort and pulls relentlessly on the laces behind her until the edges of the garment meet together in the back in an unbroken line. “You're adapting to your corset training quite nicely…” the brunette observes… “I thought it would take another day or two to be able to get your waist down to sixteen inches… The men are going to love what it does for your form and posture…” That's easy for her to say. Poor Alison feels faint and lightheaded from the tremendous pressure around her middle. If she wasn't fastened securely to the doorframe she would probably keel over. Of course Fiona knows this. She's just being flippant.

While the chained blonde is hanging there trying to catch her breath and held rigidly at attention, her mistress takes this opportunity to respray her with perfume. Alison moans in torment as the musky floral fragrance is sprayed onto the tender flesh of her recently pierced and freshly depilated twat, burning as it dries. Fiona as usual does a thorough job, perfuming her neck, her armpits, her breasts, her wrists, even the crack of her ass. There's nothing subtle about the aroma of fresh flowers and hot wet pussy that that quickly permeates the air… an odor guaranteed to grab the attention and open the nose of any man within twenty feet and get his hormones raging. The mere smell announces Alison's presence from across the room, spelling out C…U…N…T… in big red letters. “Phew…” Fiona gasps… “That stuff will make you dizzy… Now let's just touch up your makeup and get you dressed. Its almost six o'clock already and Mr. Slate will be here soon to pick you up…”

Pick her up? Alison wonders as her mistress unhooks her from the doorframe and minces her over to the vanity table, sitting her down on the bench and refastening her cuffed wrists behind her back. Where is she going?

To what uses will she be put when they get there? As Fiona fusses with her hair and makeup, the fettered and tightly corseted blonde realizes that in fact she has not left the apartment for the last three days, imprisoned in a private world of sexual enslavement and servitude, a cocoon in which her transformation has been effected in concealment and secrecy from the world outside. She has a feeling that soon that is going to change… She has an idea that Slate intends to display her in some much more public fashion… that soon many people will know what she has become. This thought creates a great deal of anxiety, but also a secret excitement. Alison squirms in her seat as Fiona finishes up with her face, applying a last glossy coat of bright pink-magenta lipstick to her ripe full mouth. She looks like some kind of expensive and exotic whore, and the lovely blonde stares at her own reflection, shamed but still aroused by her own appearance, imagining its devastating effect on any man within eyesight with a certain satisfaction and pride.

Fiona pulls a pair of ultra-sheer white nylon panties out of the dresser, finally unfastening her captive from the vanity bench and helping her to stand up. Alison dutifully steps into the panties and allows her roommate to pull them up over her high-heeled boots and white stockings, pulling them up tightly to her lower belly. They hide nothing. Through the thin and clingingly sensual translucent fabric the folds of her girlish slit can be clearly seen, as can the rings that pierce her. She stands there passively waiting as Fiona selects a white vinyl minidress from the walk-in closet along the wall, one so short that it barely covers the tops of her thighs and as tight as a sausage skin, with ruffles and bows along the hemline and at the low-cut vee of the bodice. The sultry brunette unfastens Alison's hands from behind her back to slip this garment over her head and down over the tight corset that constricts her, being careful not to muss her hair, then zipping the dress up in the back. Unlocking the blonde's wide pearly wristbands she draws a pair of white stretchy opera-length gloves up over her hands and arms and buttons them up before refastening the pearly bracelet-manacles tightly over the gloves.

Finally a four-inch wide white patent leather belt is cinched around her already impossibly narrow waist, its silver buckle ornamented with the same design of crossed whips that adorns her choker and wristbands. The girl is forced to stand rigidly erect, her bosom lifted and swelling with each breath, the shapes of the rings that pierce her nipples just barely discernable through the very thin white vinyl of the minidress. Through all this the blonde remains passive, allowing her roommate to dress her up like a doll. Now that she's been properly drugged up she has little inclination to struggle. As a matter of fact, she finds herself in a state of eager if rather fearful anticipation… She hasn't been dressed up like this for no reason. She has no doubt that soon she will be obliged to open herself again… open her mouth, her pussy, her ass… open herself for her Master or whoever he chooses to give her to. In all likelihood she will be whipped. Even though this thought is still terrifying to her, she also knows that she has had her best and most satisfying orgasms after she has been made to cry. Slate has intuited this secret desire, and has let her know that he intends to see that she is punished regularly.

The cat-suited brunette hands her a small white vinyl clutch purse with the same makeup and lipstick she used to fix her lovely captive's face. The wicked combination of hypnotics and stimulants that course through her veins leave the submissive receptionist feeling brightly alert, yet docile and sensual. She makes no struggle as her mistress refastens her bracelets together again in front of her and takes her arm to walk her out to the living room and sit her down on the couch. Just as she is getting settled the doorbell rings and Alison's heart leaps into her mouth. He is coming…

CHAPTER NINE- A NIGHT OUT

It is Slate, accompanied by his hulking bodyguard-chauffeur Tony. Fiona stands aside at the door, admitting the two men. “And how is my little trainee doing today?” the boss asks breezily… “I trust she has been fitted with her new jewelry… has she been a good girl?” “Everything's gone more or less according to plan…” the brunette replies. “We're a little behind on our plug training, but other than that…” “Well, that can easily be remedied…” the saturnine exec comments as he stands before Alison where she sits on the couch in her white vinyl with her manacled hands twisting around in her lap, staring down at his shoes, suddenly too afraid and/or ashamed to look up at his face. “She certainly looks like she's ready for her coming-out party…” Slate reaches down to cup her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze. “Tell me, how do you like your new accessories, Alison… How does it feel to wear my rings in your cunt, you little whore?” “Well, it still hurts a little, Sir…” the cowed submissive admits humbly, staring up at him with her eyes wide and pleading… “Sometimes it hurts but I guess you know it kind of feels exciting too… especially the one… you know… in my clit… it… it keeps throbbing all the time… I can't seem to forget about it… Sometimes it almost makes me come just having it there… deep inside me… knowing you had it put there… it's kind of like having you always inside me right there…”

Slate grasps the girl's two braceleted wrists in one strong hand, pulling her upward and getting her to stand up on her feet, where she teeters before him a bit unsteadily on her very high heels, weak-kneed with apprehension. Keeping a firm grasp on the willowy blonde's wrists with his left hand, he reaches down with his right hand to feel underneath her skirt, cupping the moist warm softness of her recently-pierced twat. Alison moans and lets her mouth hang open, her eyelashes fluttering, her knees shaking… “You just needed a strong man to put you in your place, Alison… and that place is down on your knees, worshiping my cock…” Slate tells her coldly. “Those rings in your hairless little cunt are there to remind you always that you belong to me totally, body and mind. You're going to be a good girl for me now aren't you, little one? I intend to make sure of it… Of course you'll still be punished anyway, you dirty little fucking whore. Tell me… how many times did you come today? Did you come when Spider and his monstrous friend fucked you? Did you enjoy having fifteen inches of cock shoved up your ass?”

“Yes, sir…” the pierced blonde answers meekly, absorbing this diatribe like a little girl being lectured by an angry father. “I… I can't remember how many times I came today… maybe five or six times… Is that bad? I really couldn't help it…” “There will be a special punishment for that later, Alison…” answers Slate with a menacing grin. “For the moment, lets just get you ready to go. Fiona, have you packed all the stuff she'll need?” “You bet, boss…” the brunette answers quickly. “I've got plenty of drugs and syringes and stuff, and I brought some of those extra-long needles… It's all in my shoulder bag.” Slate abruptly lets go of Alison's moistening slit and commands her to turn around, bending her over at the waist with her hands down on the couch in front of her. “I'm going to plug and tie you now for the ride across town…” he announces. “Fiona bring me that size fourteen butt stretcher and some lube…”

Alison remains there half bent-over, her face red with embarrassment and shame and her palms sweating as she waits submissively to be impaled. She doesn't move but whimpers nervously as Slate pushes the skirt up over the cheeks of her shapely ass, which is still marked with the dark purplish welts of his crop, and pulls her wispy panties down. In the corner of her eye she can see the stolid Tony standing behind his boss with his arms folded staring down at her impassively. Does he have to do this in front of the chauffeur? It's so humiliating. She struggles to control the impulse to rise up and pull her skirt back down over her hips, protecting herself from the bodyguard's prying eyes. Of course Slate is aware of this, and enjoys making her humble herself like this in front of others. It's all part of the fun.

The innocent-looking blonde squirms and bites her lip anxiously as Slate toys with her hairless pussy, drawing in her breath sharply when his teasing fingertip touches the head of her swelling clit. Meanwhile in the background Fiona has greased up the fourteen-inch black rubber butt plug with the three little chains that will hold it in place attached to its flaring base and is standing there with an applicator full of lube in her hand. The thing is two inches thick and made to closely resemble a human penis, veins and all. Slate takes his little trainee's newly-installed clit ring between his thumb and forefinger, sending a hot jolt of pain and arousal up the trembling slave girl's spine from her suddenly throbbing little joy button, holding her steady so she cant pull away as Fiona inserts the applicator full of lube into Alison's nervously twitching little rectum. The beautiful young blonde squeaks with anxiety as she is penetrated, knowing what comes next. Alison whimpers as he fists the long black shaft of the rubber dildo with his other hand, bringing it up to her quivering back opening. “If you push back against it, it won't hurt so much going in…” she can hear Fiona comment as if from a million miles away. That's easy for her to say…

Still Alison does her best to cooperate, standing there bent over the couch with her knees shaking, leaning on her manacled hands and closing her eyes in shame as she obediently opens herself for him, pressing her shapely backside back against the head of the rubbery phallus now slowly working its way into her hairless pink ass hole. Alison fills her lungs, holding her breath and then letting it out with a whoosh as the head of the thing finally pokes past her anal ring, pushing past the tight entrance into the softness of her insides. The lovely blonde shifts her weight restlessly from one foot to the other, her soft white buttocks jiggling as a low whining moan emanates from the back of her throat, but she makes no struggle, no word of protest… She wants so much to be a good girl for him… Relentlessly, Slate bores the thing into her, twisting and turning it to force inch after inch of thick rubber cock up her spastically twitching rear, his tickling finger at her clit making her jump and rise up on her toes, her useless vagina gushing with her sweet secretions.

Alison's mouth is open and gasping as the whole fourteen inches of rubber dingus finally sink into the depths of her helplessly quaking rectum, making her insides ache with fullness, once more totally impaled by her Master. She squirms and whines with discomfort as Slate reaches up under her belly to fasten the chains tightly to the little rings at the bottom hem of her corset. One chain runs up either side of the vee of her crotch, the third one drawn up tightly in the crack of her buttocks. Now that the big rubbery butt plug is firmly locked up the trembling slave girl's compliant rear end, he pulls the sheer white panties back up over her shaky legs and helps her to stand back up, pulling the tight white skirt back down over her hips to hide the whole installation from outside view.

The plugged and pierced blonde stands there unsteadily, half supported by Slate's hand on her arm, her nostrils flaring wildly and a stricken look on her face as she struggles to adjust herself to the penetrating presence of fourteen inches of rubber dick up her ass. Her shapely buttocks clench and jiggle reflexively underneath the white vinyl of her short skirt, her bowels involuntarily pushing against this rubbery invasion but of course it's not going anywhere. She's just going to have to wear it until he decides to take it out. The trembling submissive is almost faint with strain and fearful excitement, her eyes wide and her knees trembling as her lord and master refastens her cuffs behind her back, making her even more totally helpless.

“I think we're ready to go now…” Slate announces. “Fiona, get the lady's wrap.” In a moment, the brunette returns with a long but lightweight cape of white satiny material, which she throws over the cuffed girl's shoulders and ties with a bow at her neck, hiding Alison's shackled hands from outside view. To a casual observer, the lovely young woman looks almost normal, a stunningly attractive uptown party girl dressed up for a night on the town, probably headed for some pricey exclusive disco or private club. Slate, dressed in his conservative handmade dark suit, appears to be her sugar daddy, with obvious underlings Tony and Fiona tagging along behind.

The two men take Alison by the elbows, escorting her out the door of the apartment and down the hall to the elevator. The massively plugged blonde can barely walk, teetering along on her fetishistic ultra-high heels and taking little short steps due to the extreme tightness of the skirt, the long dildo shifting around inside her bowels with every step as her inner thighs brush against the rings in her cunt lips beneath the moist crotch of her panties. Fiona follows along with a large black bag slung over her shoulder containing her drug paraphernalia and god knows what else… The lovely blonde walks along down the hallway flanked by the two men in tense silence, her heart pounding in apprehension as she wonders where they are taking her and what will be demanded of her when they get there. As they enter the elevator the silence hangs heavy in the air. Finally, Slate begins to explain as they begin the long descent from the penthouse to the street.

“We're going to spend the evening at a very private, very exclusive club of which I am a member and part owner. Now that you are properly dressed and at least partially trained I'd like to introduce you to some of my friends and business associates. There will be other young women there not unlike yourself who either have been or are being broken into servitude. You will not speak to them, or indeed to anyone else unless you are questioned directly by one of the men, who you will address as “Sir”. The only time you will open your mouth will be to answer a direct question, to eat or drink, or to service one of the members or his guests at my discretion. Yes, it's that kind of club. Although gentlemen sometimes gather there to eat and drink and conduct their business, its main purpose is a kind of secret society for the use and subjugation of little whores like yourself. Once you enter the door you will obey the instructions of any of the members without hesitation, or you will be punished. And believe me, some of the punishments can be quite severe… Do you understand?”

“Yes… Yes Sir… I understand…” the pierced and buttplugged young blonde answers submissively, her hairless pussy coming alive with the knowledge that soon her soft and slender body will be handed over to the dubious mercy of a bunch of sadistic and demanding male strangers. She knows she is going to get fucked plenty tonight and her obedient little cunt is already getting defensively wet and ready for it, her clit stiffening and throbbing around the burning metallic shaft that skewers it. She can't help it… the muscles of her bowels flutter and squeeze around the thick black rubber device that impales her, her mouth hanging slightly open as she responds to its penetrating presence, keeping her always open and in a state of total domination. With fourteen inches of dildo up her ass she has already surrendered, however embarrassed she might feel at the thought of being exposed and humiliated publicly in this way. Beneath the cape her hands squirm nervously in the cuffs as she tests her bonds, reveling in their implacable grip. Once again she realizes how exciting it is for her to be bound, helpless… Finally the elevator doors open at the elegant lobby and Tony and Slate march the unsteady girl across the marble floor, her high heels clicking on the tiles as they guide her out the door to the street and Fred the doorman tips his cap to them. “Evening, ladies… Mr. Slate…”

Alison tries to avoid the doorman's eye, stepping past him as he holds the door and saying nothing, wondering what he knows or might guess about her condition as Slate nods to the guy in an offhand way. A waft of her cunty-smelling perfume floats in the air behind her, sending a hot rush down to the old rummy's withered groin. “Snotty little bitch…” the uniformed lackey mutters to himself as he opens the door to the long black limo, helping the two women into the cavernous rear compartment before closing it again after Slate. Meanwhile the stolid Tony goes and gets behind the wheel.

Alison, sitting in the middle of the back seat between Slate and Fiona, leans back and does her best to make herself comfortable, if such a thing is possible with your hands cuffed behind your back and fourteen inches of dildo shoved up your ass. Slate puts an arm around her shoulder, leaning over to kiss her deeply as the car pulls off. The beautiful young blonde lets her mouth open for him, her tongue dancing and twining around his as she feels her body melting in his arms. He reaches up to squeeze her tits through the thin white vinyl of the minidress, sending a shocking charge of pain and arousal from the rings in her recently-pierced and hardening nipples up and down her spine, making her moan into his mouth and squirm anxiously in the seat, rubbing her stockinged thighs together.

The man reaches down to insinuate his hand between her legs, roughly pushing them apart and forcing her skirt to ride up high onto the tops of her thighs, revealing the soft vee of her pierced and attentive cunt beneath the very sheer white panties. He cups her in his hand, feeling her wetness and warmth through the thin fabric as she lets her head fall back, her eyes closed and her mouth open as she shifts her hips to press back against him… She loves it when he holds her like this, her stiffening clit tingling and pulsing hotly around the steel that pierces it. The limo stops at a red light and a couple of teenagers crossing the street stop dead in their tracks as they get an eyeful through the car's side window. Alison is oblivious, her attention riveted on Slate's probing fingers as he toys with her gushy pink hairless twat.

She feels herself spinning down a vortex of fear and desire, lost in a swirling sea of sexual and deliciously feminine sensation. In spite of all that she has endured, or perhaps because of it, she has never felt more tinglingly alive or more happy to be a woman. Even knowing that in a matter of minutes or hours he will pass her around to others to use as a receptacle for their perverted and brutal lusts only adds a certain poignancy to the emotion. She is eager to be prostituted, used, defiled, degraded, if by doing so she can please this man, making herself more desirable in his eyes and proving her obedience. “First I'm going to give you to others…” he announces, as if divining her thoughts… “Then I'm going to punish you for it, you cock-hungry little whore… or maybe I should punish you first… What do you think?…” Alison squirms in his grasp, unable to answer… shamed by her wetness, her complicity…

Tony's voice on the intercom breaks into the reverie as the long black limo glides to a halt… “We're here, Boss…” After a moment Slate lets go of the bound blonde and withdraws his hand from underneath her skirt, allowing Fiona to help the girl compose herself and arrange her clothing. Tony comes around to open the door and Alison sees that they are in front of a well-appointed brownstone with an awning out in front on an uptown side street in a ritzy neighborhood. A discreet bronze plaque beside the front doors reads “The Caligula Club” with the same design of crossed whips that adorns Alison's collar. Suddenly it feels tighter around her neck as a fresh tingle of fear runs through her, making her weak in the knees. Slate has promised to whip her nightly. As the two men help her out of the car and Slate notices the panicked look in her eye his grip tightens around her arm. He looks at her mockingly, as if daring her to rebel. The street is deserted. For a moment Alison thinks about screaming bloody murder but before she can gather the courage to do so the two men have hustled her up the stairs and the massive carved wooden doors swing open before them, admitting them to a tiled vestibule with another set of doors at the far end and an intercom on the wall.

“I think I can take it from here, Tony…” Slate announces. Tony takes the hint. He knows the Caligula Club is not for such as he. The muscular bodyguard/chauffeur goes back to the limo, leaning back against the fender and lighting a cigarette. It's going to be a longish wait. Fiona grasps the hesitant Alison's other arm as they stand there in the entryway. The doors before them are intricately carved with scenes of Roman orgies and tortures and they are flanked on either side by pedestals holding small marble statues of naked and bound maidens. Hidden security cameras pan over them, ascertaining their identities for ten seconds or so. “Just remember to keep your mouth shut, honey…” the brunette hisses to her captive roommate… “Otherwise we'll just have to gag you… I've got a nice thick penis gag right here in my bag to shut you up with and I'm just dying to put it on you…”

They can faintly hear the sound of hidden bolts being withdrawn electronically as the heavy doors in front of them swing open, revealing the figure of a young and beautiful brunette dressed up as a French Maid as interpreted by John Willie. Like Alison she is evidently tightly corseted and her dress is very tight, very short, and her heels about four inches too high to be practical for housework. No doubt she serves in other capacities.

“Good evening, Sir…” She murmurs deferentially to Slate, as the suddenly reluctant Alison is firmly escorted inside. Behind her she can hear the locks sliding back into place. This is not a place one can just walk out of. “May I take the lady's wrap, Sir? Would you like to check your bag?” the young maid asks as they pause for a moment in the opulently paneled lobby. “Thank you, Lisette…” Slate replies familiarly as he reaches up to untie the bow of the trembling blonde's cape, whisking it from her and handing it to the servant girl to hang in the nearby cloak room. “I think we'll just carry the bag with us… there are some things in there that might come in handy…” If the maid sees anything unusual in Alison's now evident bondage she makes no mention of it. The lovely blonde stands there pinned between her two captors who still grasp her none too gently by the arms, her hands twisting around helplessly in their long white gloves where they are cuffed behind her as she squirms with embarrassment and anxiety. The maid returns in a moment, handing Slate a little numbered check tag which he pockets. Meanwhile a white-haired older gentleman in formal attire and a young woman with her hair bleached platinum wearing a low-cut evening gown approach them from down the richly paneled and carpeted hallway.

“Dorian, how good to see you…” the man greets Slate effusively, shaking his hand warmly and putting a hand on his shoulder… “This must be your newest little acquisition…” he comments, giving Alison an approving glance and smiling broadly. “Good evening, Judge…” Slate replies in his gravelly voice, the hard lines of his face creasing into a quick grin… “Young Alison here is still in training, but I think tonight she's ready for her coming-out party…” The plugged and bound blonde stands there awkwardly as the corrupt-looking older gent blatantly eyes her up and down, practically rubbing his hands together with delight. She feels like a piece of meat about to be thrown into the lion's cage.

“Do you have a seat for us in the Club Room? I thought we might enjoy a drink or two, soak up a little atmosphere…” Slate inquires. “Perhaps you would care to join us…” “I regret that I have other business I must attend to…” the elderly grafter replies, “But our lovely young hostess Andrea here will be happy to escort you and attend to your needs. Perhaps I will see you later upstairs.” “Yes, indeed…” Slate declares as the Judge turns away and walks briskly back down the hallway, disappearing behind a door marked “Private.”

“If you will follow me, sir…” the young woman introduced as Andrea says quietly, turning to lead them down the hall. On closer observation, Alison notices that like herself she wears the collar and cuffs of a slave girl, her thin waist tightly belted and evidently severely corseted as well, and as the statuesque blonde turns around to walk ahead of them she sees that the skirt of her long satin gown and the slip she wears beneath have been pinned or fastened up in the back to reveal her long stockinged legs and the bare flesh of her rear above them, framed by the white lace of her petticoat. She wears no panties and like Alison her well-formed buttocks bear the reddened welts of a recent whipping. She leads them in silence down the hall, swaying gracefully, her extremely high heels making no sound on the soft carpet underneath their feet. She comes to a set of double doors off to the side of the hallway, opening one of them inward.

Immediately the sounds of a number of people in quiet conversation and the clinking of glasses and silverware can be heard over the piped-in music of a string quartet playing some baroque sonatas. They enter a large and ornate dining room, intimately lit, with a bar off to one side at which a number of suited men can be seen in conversation. At one end of the room is a kind of raised platform or stage, which is at this moment dark and empty, the red velvet curtains drawn. At the four corners of the room and beside the double doors six tall and muscular men dressed in black tee shirts embossed with the logo of the club and black tights stand with folded arms. They wear black executioner-style hoods, heavy black boots and black leather gloves on their large strong hands, and from their wide studded belts hang an assortment of whips, cattle prods, etc. Around the room a number of other scantily-clad Maids similar to the one that greeted them at the door are quietly bussing the tables. The entire room is furnished in black and red. Black lacquered chairs with red velvet cushions, etc.

At the twenty or so round tables that dot the room and on couches off to the side with coffee tables set in front of them sit several groups of people, the dozen or so affluent-looking men all dressed in dark suits and ties, and a number of young women silently attending them who appear to be wearing the same hostess gown as Andrea. Only Fiona and perhaps two other women in the room seem to enjoy a different status from the rest, wearing more or less normal street attire. Several of the other hostesses also wear their dresses pinned up in front or behind, and as they circulate from table to table it is evident that like Andrea they wear nothing underneath their skirts. One of them glides by close enough for Alison to reach out and touch and she is shocked to realize that like herself the girl's mound is closely shaved or depilated and she catches the flashing glint of silver where the girl has been pierced and ringed.

Alison is mortified to realize that she is hardly unique in this environment. What, indeed, does she have to offer that any of these other girls do not? They are all young and beautiful and obviously readily obliging. Downcast, she allows herself to be guided to a table up near the stage, sitting down as decorously as possible. The heads of several of the men swivel to follow her as she walks across the room, wishing herself invisible. Slate unclips her bracelets from behind her back and refastens them in front of her. Andrea leans over the table to take their drink orders, revealing plenty of cleavage. A carafe of white wine and a Glenlivet. Would they care for some hors d'ouvres with that? Sure, why not.

After a moment, Andrea returns to their table bearing a tray with their drinks and some canapés, serving each of them their drinks before sitting herself down at the fourth chair at a signal from Slate, folding her hands in her lap and patiently awaiting further instructions. Alison takes a sip of the wine, holding the fluted glass carefully between her cuffed and gloved hands, feeling very strange. Fiona offers her the tray of appetizers. “No thanks, I'm full…” the uneasy blonde replies, thinking of the fourteen inches of rubber dick still stuffed up her ass. The brunette smiles archly, knowing exactly what her little roommate has on her mind. Meanwhile the lights begin to dim and the music fades. Evidently some sort of show or performance is about to take place.

The curtains part and the lights come up slowly. In the center of the stage is a dentist's chair to which has been strapped an obviously terrified girl, naked except for her pale blue satin corset, sheer stockings and high-heeled ankle straps. Her hands and feet are tightly belted to chair, stretching her taught with her legs widely separated to reveal and open her shaven pussy, which has been pierced through both lips from side to side with a number of silver tie-bars which rivet them tightly together. These tie bars have D shaped rings hanging from their ends and similar but smaller device skewers the trembling girl's clitoral hood. The girl's head and neck have been also been strapped tightly to the chair, holding them rigidly immobile. To one side of the dentist's chair is one of those wheeled cabinets you find in doctor's offices which has already been laid out with a selection of nasty-looking glittering chrome dental tools.

The pastel blue corset which constricts her waist is cut low in the front, the half-cups of the bra part lifting and presenting the girl's ample breasts but leaving the nipples exposed. Like Alison her largish pale pink paps have also been pierced in a similar way, with D rings hanging from the tie bars that impale them from side to side. Her auburn hair is long and flowing, her face immaculately made up although already her mascara is starting to run as her chin quivers and she struggles to hold back tears of fear. Two of the forbidding-looking guards stand on either side of her, whips in hand. The white-haired gent who Slate referred to as the Judge strides onto the stage, accompanied by a balding middle-aged guy in a white doctor's coat who is evidently the dentist. The Judge's face, which was earlier beaming with fatherly good humor, is now set in a grim mask of outrage and condemnation.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen…” he begins, gesturing towards the girl strapped to the chair… “This is Josephine. I'm afraid she has been a very bad girl, quite rebellious, as a matter of fact. Earlier today, when called upon to service one of our esteemed members orally, not only did she refuse to swallow his semen, but actually attempted to bite him and spit it out in his face when commanded to do so. Such insolence cannot be tolerated. Therefore, it is my regretful duty to see that she is punished severely enough so that she will never again think of indulging in such behavior. Therefore, in an effort to make the punishment fit the crime, it has been determined that all of her teeth will now be removed. Since her face will be rendered too unattractive by this procedure to be appealing to our guests, her mouth will have to be put to other uses for the next few days until we arrange to sell her off to some Mexican whorehouse where their standards are not so high. Therefore, she will be fitted with this mask, which as you can see will cover most of her face

except for the eyes. You will note the funnel-like arrangement at the mouth hole. This will facilitate her new role as a human urinal.” One of the black hooded guards holds up the black rubber mask so everyone can see it. “Our friend Dr. Tormentov here is a well-respected oral surgeon and has generously consented to perform this procedure for us.

The stacked young woman squirms in her bondage there in the chair as the white-coated dentist steps up beside her, the two black-clad enforcers moving in close on either side to act as his assistants. “No… no, please… I didn't mean to…” she starts blubbering as Tormentov leans over her with a clamp in his hand. For a moment all you can see is arms and elbows as the clamp is forced into the whimpering girl's mouth and fixed in place there. The doctor turns the screws at the two sides of the device so that Josephine's mouth is forced to gape open widely. She is panting with terror now as the dentist deftly inserts an IV into her arm where it is belted down to the chair. “Just be grateful that I have been permitted to anesthetize you for this surgery. It was agreed that your uninterrupted screaming through the whole procedure would perhaps be too wearing on the nerves of our assembled guests, not to mention my own. Perhaps it was felt that just knowing that you will have to live with this for the rest of your life would cause you enough suffering at this time. And of course there will be ample time in the future for us to hear you scream…” Opening a clip attached to the IV he starts the drip and in a matter of seconds the girl's eyes glaze over and her face falls slack.

This is hardly the first time the good doctor has used his dentist's implements to inflict pain and suffering. As a matter of fact, back in the bad old days before he was able to come to America there were those in his native land who found that he knew how to use his drills and picks as a very useful tool in interrogation. No doubt it was through these kind of connections that he was able to arrange to emigrate here in the first place. Certainly he finds his present surroundings a step up from the dank stone cells in the basements of eastern Europe where he had sometimes worked in the past.

Without further ado the white-coated oral surgeon sets to work. He quickly opens the girl's gums with a scalpel to make it quicker and easier to pry her teeth out. One of the black-hooded guards acts as dental assistant, suctioning off the blood as one by one the doctor methodically pulls the semi-conscious slave girl's teeth out. The room is so quiet that you can hear it each time he takes a tooth that he has removed with his pliers and drops it into a little chrome cup with a clink. All attention is riveted to the events taking place on the stage, the chatter and clinking of glasses has stopped dead. Alison sits there at a ringside table, her stomach churning with the brutality of what she is being forced to witness. Even Fiona seems subdued. Certainly discipline here at the Caligula Club can be administered with frightening severity and ruthlessness. “I… I have to go to the ladies' room…” she whispers hesitantly to Slate, who sits there impassively sipping his drink. In fact the sickening fear that consumes her as she identifies with the tortured girl on stage fills her with a burning need to urinate, as well as a desire to escape having to witness any further punishments. “No…” Slate declares flatly. “Sit here and watch this. I think you may find it educational.”

Alison inwardly resolves to make every effort to never put herself in such a position and obey every command with alacrity, no matter how humiliating or disgusting. Of course, the show on stage is meant to produce just such an effect, making an example of poor Josephine for the benefit of the other girls as well as for her own punishment and the entertainment of those in the audience who enjoy witnessing such things. She burns with humiliation and helpless frustration at having to ask permission to go to the bathroom like a little girl in grade school and then having it denied, squirming uncomfortably in her seat. Meanwhile, up on the stage, Doctor Tormentov has finally finished his work with the pliers and is busily sewing up the punished slave girl's gums. Although it has seemed like forever, the whole operation has taken no more than fifteen minutes.

Once Josephines's gums have been sutured, the other of the two enforcer types steps up with the funnel-mask contraption in his hand and quickly forces the thing into the still groggu girl's mouth as the doctor removes his clamp, buckling the mask securely in place around her head. A stiff rubbery tube perhaps two inches wide and three or four inches long is now firmly wedged into the girl's toothless mouth, keeping it open and ending in the flaring funnel on the outside. All that can be seen of the girl's face now are her eyes, which continually stream with tears. Dr. Tormentov removes the IV from the girl's arm and steps back as she slowly begins to regain full consciousness. The two black-suited goons then unbuckle the still-wobbly young woman from the chair she has been strapped into and force her to her knees there on the stage facing the audience. Her hands and elbows are bound behind her back and then her wrists are tied to her ankles so that she is forced to remain in that kneeling position. The rings in her tits and cunt are hung with heavy weights to make sure she remains in constant pain. The Judge shakes Tormentov's hand and thanks him for his excellent work as the doctor steps off the stage.

“You can put her in the Men's room right there to the right of the bar…” the Judge instructs his two underlings, who pick the girl up from under each arm and carry her off the stage as lightly as a box of feathers. No sooner is Josephine carried through the door of the room marked “Gents” then two of the guys who have been standing at the bar drinking beer head in there after her. I will skip over the details of subsequent events there in the Men's room. Suffice it to say that Josephine will be forced to swallow many gallons of urine in the next few days as she waits to be shipped off to some third-world brothel. The Judge turns back to face the onlooking crowd, who have pretty much been sitting there in attitudes of rapt silence and/or shock through this whole ordeal, and wishes them all a pleasant evening as he walks off the stage and the lights in the room come back up.

“Holy shit…” Fiona mutters… “I see that they haven't relaxed their discipline any since the last time I was here. Gee that judge is strict. I sure hope I never come up before him with a speeding ticket or something.” Alison sits there stunned by the bizarre tableaux she has just witnessed, shaking with fear and revulsion, amazed that her roommate can make light of the sickening spectacle up there on the stage. “You can take Alison to the bathroom now…” Slate announces to his female minion… “She looks a little pale. Maybe she could use a booster shot…” “You got it, boss…” Fiona rises to obey, helping the ashen-faced blonde up from her seat and taking her by the elbow to escort her to the ladies room. Andrea gets up to bring Slate another drink and once again the sounds of glasses clinking and quiet conversation can be heard around the room.

Once in the powder room, Fiona walks her shaken roommate over to an open stall, watching in wry amusement as the blonde struggles to hitch her skirt up and pull her panties down over her hips with her cuffed hands. Alison notes that the toilets have been fitted to double as bidets and that a douche/enema nozzle in a plastic wrapper dongles from a hose and spigot attached to the wall. How convenient. “Don't take it so hard, cookie…” the dark-haired dominant advises. “Stuff like that happens here all the time. You'll get used to it. Just be glad it wasn't you. Besides, you have to fuck up big time to earn that kind of treatment. Just be a good girl and you won't get anything you can't handle. Here… I've got a little something here in my bag to cheer you up.”

So saying, pulls a syringe and one of those rubber-stoppered bottles out of the bag she has been toting around with her. As Fiona carefully fills up the hypodermic, Alison squats down on the toilet. Imagine her surprise when, just as the pent-up urine is about to escape from her body, one of the dark-suited male guests strolls casually into the room and stands there leaning against the wall, peering openly into the doorless stall where the lovely blonde sits with her panties around her ankles, her face flushing a furious crimson. “There's no such thing as privacy here, honey…” Fiona observes. She should have known. “Don't hold back, Alison… let it go…” her mistress advises. “Some guys just like to watch. Go ahead and piss, you stupid little cunt, before you make me impatient with you.”

The mortified young woman closes her eyes, trying to block out the man with his staring eyes, forcing her body to relax. Her water splashes loudly into the commode, her pink hairless rectum clenching around the plug that still fills her in time with the jets of urine that shoot from her pierced pussy, which is again starting to throb and ache. She wonders if the guy watching her can see the shiny little chains on either side of her belly that hold the big butt-stretcher in place, and if he knows what they are for. She wipes herself furtively, doing her best to conceal the impaling instrument from his eyes. “Don't be shy, Alison…” Fiona admonishes her. “Stand up and let the gentleman here have a better look at you…”

Trembling in shame, the submissive blonde stands up in the stall, leaving her panties down around her ankles and her skirt hiked up over her hips. “Very nice… very nice…” the weasely-looking thirtyish guy compliments her. She's not sure if he's referring to her, her shaven pussy, or the piercings that adorn it. He looks like the son of some wealthy industrialist or banker, spoiled useless and obviously thinking highly of himself. “Turn around, Alison…” her mistress commands… “Give us a little pirouette…” The young woman has no choice but to obey, with the drama that was just played out on stage still very much on her mind. “Ahhh… I see she's still in training…” the man observes as her plugged condition becomes readily apparent… “How delicious… I do like them fresh and unspoiled… perhaps I could arrange to borrow her for a while…” “You'd have to talk to Mr. Slate about that…” Fiona suggests. “He's back there in the Club Room…”

The wormy-looking guy takes his leave, promising to see them both later. “Will the Master really give me to him?” Alison asks with distaste. “Maybe…” Fiona answers…”But I doubt it. He hates that little queer. If it wasn't for his father's money and influence he wouldn't be mooning around here at all, but hanging around the schoolyard trying to stare up little girl's dresses. Still, we've gotta act like we respect him. Now come over here and bend over. I'm gonna give you a shot…”

Alison hesitantly bends over the counter in front of the brightly lit mirror that runs from wall to wall above it, putting her cuffed hands cool pink marble and leaning her weight on them as Fiona swabs off a spot on her white buttocks, her panties still down around her ankles. She winces slightly as the needle sinks into the muscles of her ass, her face once more losing its tension and becoming relaxed and dreamy as the drugs get flowing through her system again, spreading a melting warmth and tingling electricity through her over-worked nervous system, easing the painful throbbing that has returned to her pierced sex organs and relaxing her bowels around the impaling dildo that fills her. Fiona helps her to straighten herself out, removing the sheer white panties from her legs and stuffing them in her purse, stripping the blonde for action. After smoothing down her skirt, the captive receptionist reaches into her clutch purse and with an unconsciously habitual feminine gesture takes out her lipstick to touch up her makeup and powder her nose. Fiona smiles to herself. Even at this moment and after all that has happened and been done to her the delicate young miss is still concerned about her appearance, wanting to always look her best. She's a sweet one all right. Slate will be pleased.

They exit the ladies' toilette and walk back down the hall to the Club Room, entering the double doors to see that everything is more or less as they left it. Slate is still sitting there at the table calmly nursing his drink. However, the place beside him at the table has been taken by another man, and Andrea sits there perched on his knee, looking like a bird in the grip of an ugly bear as he idly fondles her tits and ass. The man is fiftyish and grotesquely overweight, the rolls of lard sagging from underneath his triple chins. His face is coarse and unrefined, with broken capillaries reddening his potato of a nose and he looks like he always needs a shave in spite of the thousand-dollar suit he wears. His mean little piggish eyes light up as the women approach.

Slate speaks up as they near the table…” Alison I'd like you to meet Mr. Accardo… he and I go back a long way together, all the way back to the old neighborhood in the Bronx, as a matter of fact. No… don't sit down… I think it's time we go and explore the rest of the Club… Shall we go upstairs?” “Fuckin' A…” says Fat Sal gruffly… Pleased to meetcha…” “Alison just stands there, unsure how to address this unsavory apparition. He looks like a gangster straight from Central Casting, right down to the diamond pinky ring. “C'mon, blondie…” the heavyset older man commands Andrea, pushing her off his lap as he huffs and puffs to get up out of the chair.

Meekly, the satin-gowned hostess leads the way, walking gracefully out of the room and down the hallway to a staircase leading to the second floor. Slate takes Alison's arm and guides her along behind, with Fiona bringing up the rear hauling her black bag of tricks. Andrea's naked and welted buttocks jiggle and bounce within the frame of the folds of her skirts that cascade down around them as she mounts the carpeted staircase, Fat Sal following their every movement with his eyes. “Follow the bouncing balls, folks…” he jokes as he laboriously heaves his bulk up the stairs, grunting with every step. “We gotta put an elevator in this dump…” he complains.

Stepping out onto the second floor landing, they find themselves at the end of another long paneled hallway with a set of double doors on one side and a number of smaller rooms on the other. Muffled sounds can be heard from inside. “Let's check out the action in the Game Room first…” Fat Sal suggests, grinning with sweaty anticipation. Andrea leads them to the double French doors, sliding one of them aside so that they can enter the room. Inside, they are confronted with a bizarre spectacle.

The room is cavernous, the same size as the dining room/stage which lies directly underneath it and is also decorated in the same opulent style, all in red and black with richly paneled walls, subdued lighting and piped-in music. All along one end of the room are a group of low couches and hassocks, upholstered in red velvet plush, on which may be seen a number of men and women in various stages of undress. All of the women have removed their gowns and are dressed similarly in variously colored pastel satin corsets with matching stockings and high heeled strappy pumps. They are obviously slave girls, all young, beautiful and well-built, cuffed and collared like Alison and also similarly shaved and pierced in various configurations. The slapping of flesh against flesh can be heard, along with the moans and cries of the girls as they are being penetrated and the grunts and growls of the men working them over. One group is especially vocal, a young woman being doubly impaled fore and aft by two of the suited gentlemen, who have removed their pants and shorts but kept their jackets and ties on.

All along one of the side walls are racks of whips, chains, dildoes and bondage equipment. Jars of lube are scattered around the room mounted on little brass pedestals like ashtray stands. At the other end of the room from the sitting area stand a number of whipping posts, X-shaped crosses, bondage benches and suspensory apparatus, looking rather like the rows of machines at a health club except for their obviously more sinister purpose. One of the girls, a stunning redhead with long Shirley Temple curls, is currently being whipped at the post, her hands hung from a hook high above her head as she writhes under the relentless blows of a long black leather cat being wielded by one of the Masters. The smacking of braided leather against flesh echoes throughout the room in time with her gagged and muffled screams.

The only other female in the room besides Fiona who is not similarly corseted and pierced is a middle-aged brunette beauty in a dark business suit who sits back regally in an armchair, the head of one of the kneeling young slaves buried in her lap as she languidly flicks a four-foot braided whip out to lash the girl's upraised behind. “Faster… faster…” she commands breathlessly. One of the other slave girls is also down on her hands and knees, her hands fastened behind her back as one of the men face-fucks her forcefully, holding her head by the ears as he hammers his dick down her throat. There are no male submissives here. It is not permitted. Those looking for that kind of action will have to go to another part of town. Perhaps it is felt that to allow such things would create too much confusion.

Allison's heart pounds in her chest, her pulse quickening and her hairless pussy awakening with the knowledge that soon now, in fact any minute, she will be called upon to provide similar services. The fresh dose of drugs that have been administered to her have left her once more breathlessly expectant. “Take your dress off, Alison…” Slate commands her… “Fiona will assist you…” Andrea has already slipped out of her gown, carefully folding it and laying it aside on a bench near the door, where a half dozen others already lie. Fiona undoes the buckle of the wide white leather belt around her roommate's waist and unzips the back of her dress, helping the blonde to shrug herself out of it with her hands still cuffed in front of her as they have been since they left the apartment.

Aside from the color of their hair, Andrea and Alison could almost be twins. Both are similarly dressed and made up, both classy, vulnerable and delicate-looking, slender and leggy with oval faces, full breasts and narrow shoulders. Andrea's corset and stockings are of pale pink, rather than white, and her shaved slit is ringed differently. In fact, a row of five silver circlets extends the length of her horizontally-pierced clitoral shaft, with five more down the length of each of her inner labia. The enslaved receptionist notes with horrified fascination that the other girl's soft white hairless mound above her slit has been tattooed prominently in black and bright pink-magenta with the same design of crossed whips that adorns her collar, with the letter R in scrolly script inscribed in the middle of the symmetrical design. No doubt Spider will be returning to tattoo her own sweet quivering mons with a similar monogram, labeling her indelibly and forever as the property of her Master and his secret society. Andrea's longish nipples, too, have been multiply skewered, with one set of larger rings set close to the base and another thinner set of rings set through the tips of her bright pink buds, both clearly visible above the lacy half-cups of the pink satin corset that grips her tightly around the waist. Slate reaches over to touch them, intrigued, as the platinum-haired babe forces herself to hold still and keep silent as he flicks her hardening little nips with his finger.

“Look at this, Alison…” the granite-faced construction exec commands her. “I think I'll have Spider make a set like these for you. I like what they've done with her clit, too… really makes it stand out and beg for attention, don't you think? Make a note of that, Fiona…” Alison stands there with her eyes downcast facing Andrea from two or three feet away, her hands shaking in their bracelets as she trembles with the sudden memory of sharp needles probing within her feminine anatomy and the sure and certain knowledge that soon she is to be pierced again. It makes the silver shafts already embedded in her flesh throb with renewed intensity as their presence is once more brought to the forefront of her mind. Her rectum contracts and flutters around the thick phallic intruder still locked up her bowels as she quivers in fear. Now everyone can see it, and it is readily apparent what it is and what its purpose must be.

Slate fastens Alison's white leather leash to the ring attached to the silver shaft that spears vertically up through her suddenly stiffening clit and leads her and the rest of his little party over to the lounging area, finding an open spot in a circular grouping of modular couches and low cushions. Some of the men looking on from across the room fall silent, watching Alison mince along behind as Slate leads her by the cunt. Fat Sal holds Andrea by the arm and huffs and puffs along behind, with Fiona bringing up the rear.

“Lay down on that cushion over there…” Slate orders, nodding to Andrea and indicating a rectangular red velvet hassock about three feet by four and maybe three feet thick, the seams of which have been set with a number of rings, convenient for the fastening of girls. “Let's make these hot little bitches eat each other's cunts…” Fat Sal suggests, his eyes glittering as he steps over to help fasten the girl down on her back, each of the men taking one of her slender wrists and fastening it to a corner of the cushion. They then repeat this procedure with her ankles so that the platinum blonde is spread-eagled on top of the cushion with her knees up and her smooth white crotch spread open. “Let's let Alison warm Andrea's twat up a little…” says the overweight Mafioso coarsely… “I love to watch two girls going at it…”

Slate refastens her hands behind her back and walks Alison up to the foot of the red velvet cushion, pushing down on her shoulders and forcing her to her knees. She looks up at him anxiously. “You know what to do, Alison… get your tongue in there…” Slate commands her coldly, pointing with his finger at Andrea's open pussy with its array of glittering rings. With an inward sigh of resignation, Alison bends to her work, hesitantly sticking out her tongue as her face nears the hairless moist slit of her sister in servitude. Slate shoves her face down into the submissive hostess' sweet young cunt, mashing her nose up into the girl's wet crotch and smearing her face with her juices. “G'wan get in there…” he instructs her roughly.

Swiftly, her face burning with humiliation, the buttplugged blonde thrusts her pink tongue as far as she can get it between the ringed inner labia of the other girl, licking it upwards to slurp underneath the hood of her multiply-pierced clit. Andrea sighs and wiggles her hips around underneath Alison's mouth sensuously, her breath catching in her throat as she feels her little bud caught in a long sucking bite that makes her buck her hips and moan deep in the back of her throat. Alison licks her smoothly shaved pussy fervently, beginning to enjoy the way she is making the other girl respond to her, wanting to please her Master and prove how obedient she can be. She can taste the sweet honey that pours from Andrea's open slit as she thrusts her stiffened tongue as far as she can get it into the other girl's squirming cunt. The platinum-haired hostess strains her belly up into her, mashing her pussy against Alison's face eagerly now as she seeks for her orgasm, shuddering and gritting her teeth as the hot spasms overcome her.

Slate walks over to a rack on the wall and selects a black leather riding crop, walking back over to a spot just behind Alison. He reaches down from behind, rubbing it up and down the length of her slit. Alison whimpers responsibly as he touches her down there with his whip. She presses her bottom back against the shaft of the crop, riding it as her tongue continues to dance over Andrea's captive cunt. “She sucks a pussy pretty good…” Fat Sal admits… “Let's see how the other one does.”

The two men raise Alison up by the armpits and walk her around the ottoman so that she is facing downwards at the head of the thing. They boost her up so that her knees are on either side of Andrea's shoulders and she is squatting over the girl's face, pushing Alison down onto the other girl's squirming torso so that they are sixty-nining each other, fastening Alison's ankles to Andrea's wrists and vice-versa. Alison feels something hot and wet and squirmy parting the tender inner lips of her pussy, fastening on the throbbing tip of her pierced clit, making it dance, stroking it soothingly, delightfully… it seems the least she can do is reciprocate. She feels the leather of Slate's whip caressing her naked butt cheeks, feels herself straining against the harness that holds the whole fourteen inches of black rubber dick locked up her ass, her buttocks clenching as she mashes her crotch down on Andrea's submissively licking tongue.

Alison gently pulls at the rings piercing the platinum blonde underneath her with her teeth, tugging on the hairless nymph's clitoral shaft by the silver circlets that impale it, reaching out with the tip of her tongue to touch the hardening bud at the top of the other girl's shaven slit. She can feel the tongue working underneath her redouble its attack, making her squirm with arousal, encouraging her to further efforts. She knows that this is what the men want her to do, will have her do. She's not really a lesbian or anything, but she knows what to do and how to do it. She's been getting plenty of practice on Fiona lately.

Alison slurps and sucks at the bound girl's quivering mound beneath her, as her own pierced pussy is in turn by Andrea's sucking seeking lips, inflaming the hardening shaft of her straining clit. Alison oohs and coos and bucks her hips up and down responsively, her insides melting and coming to a focus there at the point where Slate's ring in her clit throbs under the tongue lashing of the squirming slave girl beneath her. Slate stands over her, reaching down to unfasten the chains that hold the butt plug inside her, slowly pulling its length free from the hot confines of her stuffed up bowels. The submissive receptionist groans as the last couple of inches come popping out, her aching ass channel squeezing and spasming reflexively on empty air.

She will not remain empty long, however. Her Master already has his dick out of his immaculately pressed trousers, sticking out of there as hard as a fence post. She stares determinedly down into the open cunt of the slave girl she straddles as she feels the fat head of his cock prying at her anal dot. He's going to fuck her now. Hard. Up the ass. Just like he said he would, tonight and every night from now until forever… Fight in front of all these people. Now everyone will know what a little whore she is. Alison gulps, her eyes closed and her mouth open as she prepares herself obediently for a deep anal reaming at the hands of her Master, her heart pounding like the wings of a frightened hummingbird.

The wavy-haired construction exec sinks his rock hard throbbing tool smoothly into Alison's well-stretched and receptive rear, stretching her pink sphincter membranes like rubber bands around its massive girth. After a couple of hours of plug training she opens easily for him, taking it happily to the hilt into her slick hot back tunnel. The girl squirms and squeaks and wiggles her butt around furiously as he sinks deeper and deeper into her quivering recesses, penetrating her relentlessly until the delicate ring of her rectum is stretched tight around the veiny hairy base of his manhood. Andrea's tongue reaches up to inflame her clit, making her bowels flutter sweetly around the dick that penetrates them. “OOOOHHHH… OOOOOOHHHHHH…” Alison moans in ecstasy as she thrusts herself back onto the shaft of Slate's sodomizing dick, letting his hands on her hips dictate her movements as her pussy quivers madly beneath Andrea's determined oral onslaught. “OOOOHHH YESSS MISSTER SSSLATE…” the buttfucked blonde whimpers subserviently… “FUCK ME… PLEASE FUCK MEEE… FUCK ME HARDER UP MY ASSSSSS… I… I'LL MAKE IT GOOD FOR YOU… I'LL BE GOOD… I'LL BE GOOD…”

Her voice trails off into a lingering moan as Slate starts pounding his thick tool up her ass with sledgehammer force, knocking the wind out of her lungs, leaving her panting and her head spinning. “Shut up and suck that cunt…” he commands her shortly. Meanwhile, Fat Sal has decided to get in on the action. He drops his trousers and steps up between Andrea's legs at the bottom end of the cushion, just above Alison's slurping face. She can feel his flabby belly pressed up against the top of her head as he rudely thrusts his stumpy old dick up to the sweet shaved lips of the other girl's shaved pussy directly in front of her face. Slate is giving her the length of his dick now in low gear, taking his time and making her feel every millimeter of it as he slowly works it in and out of her straining squishing rectal orifice from behind and above her. Alison sighs and lays her head down on Andrea's heaving belly as the blonde beneath her begins to respond to the fucking motion of Fat Sal's stumpy dork. It's… it's going to be a long one, Alison thinks to herself gratefully as she adjusts her soft buttocks around Slate's stiff manly member, excitedly making room in the pit of her bowels for the pounding of his cock.

Her hairless and pieced slit quivers as Andrea's dancing tongue as it works its way up and down between her slippery and ringed inner labia, making her fuck slot gush and cream itself as she feels her clit caught between the other girl's sharp little nibbling teeth, gently bitten and teased until she's writhing and squirming, bucking her hips back hard on the long thick cock that sodomistically impales her. “OOOOHHH… OOOOHHH… OOOOHHH…” she coos in submissive delight, her stretched-out rectum milking docily on her Master's rigid tool so deep up her ass. “OOOOHHH… OOOOHHH… OOOOHHH…” Alison moans as Slate pounds his dick up her tightly stretched pink up her tightly-stretched pink poopchute mercilessly, fucking her as if she were an experienced whore instead of instead of a fresh young girl, battering the insides of her bowels with his rampant cock head, stirring it up inside her, controlling every fiber of her being with his driving dick.

She feels a hand at her hair, pulling her head up, pulling her face back until her mouth hangs open and gasping and she is staring at the fat pecker of Sal Accardo, wet with the juices of the pussy it has just vacated. Tentatively, she reaches out with her tongue to tickle the little hole at the very tip. Fat Sal smiles, stepping forward another step and leaning his fat belly into her to pop the length of his swarthy fat pecker into her bow-shaped mouth. “Yeahhh… blow me, blondie…” the oafish-looking gangster demands, pulling at the silken strands of her hair like reins as he rams his flabby belly into her face. “GLRKKK… GLRKKK… GLRKKK…” Alison responds, sucking and slurping eagerly but gently on the dick that gags her as she opens and surrenders to her Master's hard-driving cock, wanting to please him with her obedience as she polishes Fat Sal's fuckknob between her lips, tickling the underside of it with her wickedly flicking tongue, making it twitch and ooze clear liquid from the tip.

Slate bounces his hips off her upturned buttocks with a steady smack smack smack as he relentlessly powers his burning thickness up her aching clutching anus… tying her insides in a knot that seems to get tighter and tighter as it coils and gathers within her belly. Her open wet pussy rubs shamelessly up and down on Andrea's licking tongue, sending thrills of sex electricity up and down her spine to jolt in her stiffly upstanding little clit right where the silver shaft pierces it. The dick in her mouth tastes and smells of the slave girl's hot pussy that it recently came from. Alison's head is spinning, lost in a whirlwind of sensation as her guts convulse around the Master's driving dick, shuddering and rigid as she comes from deep in her ass…

Slate just keeps fucking her… fucking her on and on and on as her body involuntarily relaxes, then begins to respond anew… fucking her on and on as Sal grows shaking and rigid in her avidly sucking mouth, his stumpy grizzled dick popping free of her oral embrace to spray hot jism over her cheeks, her nose, her lips. Her mouth hangs open and gasping, her eyes closed submissively as her Master still reams out her rectum tirelessly with his long thick fuckpole. She's getting all breathless, anticipating the hot spurt of come in the depths of her seething bowels. She wants it… wants to feel that sticky hot goo all up inside her… she meeps and coos under him, silently begging him to shoot his hot load in there, right now… right now… right now…

As if connected by an invisible thread, Slate seems to know just what to do to bring her to the most dizzying heights of arousal. He pounds her upturned butt furiously now, his thick pecker jerking and twitching as it spews its thick white juices and he churns them into the depths of her squirming ass guts. Alison is jerking and flopping around like a fish out of water, enchanted with the hot glow of come that fills her spasming bowels. Finally, Slate pulls away from her naked tush, his slime-coated dick popping out of her reddened and sore sphincter, a thin dribble of come dripping down the prone and helpless slave girl's crack.

Fiona is there quickly to mop up the mess, first cleaning off her boss and his friend with moist towels like baby wipes as they button themselves back up and finally wiping the cooling rivulets of jism off of Alison's face and hindquarters. “Should I untie ‘em, Boss?” she asks the recumbent Slate, who has fallen back onto a nearby chaise. “Nah… leave ‘em like that…” Fat Sal suggests, pointing with the stump of a fat smelly cigar at the two half-naked slave girls still fastened to the ottoman. “It'll give the other guests a good chance to look ‘em over. This is Alison's big debut… don'tcha want to show her of a little?” Slate nods indifferently. Alison lays there mortified, already embarrassingly aware of the stares and comments of a number of the other guests who have gathered around the periphery of their little group. Undoubtedly they have all witnessed her recent performance. God knows what they must think. Now that the action has slowed down she is once more cognizant of the display she has made of herself and burns with shame. If her status was not clear before it certainly is now.

The submissive receptionist's heart sinks within her as Slate and Fat Sal walk off with Fiona to the bar across the room, leaving her and Andrea fastened there to each other on the big red rectangular cushion with the conveniently mounted rings. Alison winces inwardly, unable to shrink away as a group of interested guests walk over to inspect the tableaux so obviously left there for their enjoyment. She feels strange hands on her smooth swelling ass cheeks, caressing the dark welts that still crisscross her finely shaped rump, admiring her tightly corseted waist and fingering the silvery rings that dangle from her damp inner lips. She closes her eyes in resignation as a blunt forefinger probes her slippery pink rectum, dipping into her, feeling her hot smoothness. “What is your name, child?” a deep voice resonates in her ear. “A… Alison, sir…” the blonde stammers, pushing back involuntarily on the fingers that now are probing her ass and pussy simultaneously, trying to accommodate herself to their penetrating presence.

“You're going to be very popular around here, Alison…” the unseen stranger behind her assures her as he stirs up her pussy and poopchute with his bony fingers…“Very popular indeed…” Several other dark-suited gentlemen subject her to a similarly intimate inspection, although none actually go so far as to fuck her. Not yet. She is still Slate's property, and still under his direct authority. By the unspoken etiquette of the club, he must decide when and by who she may be taken, at least until she's been passed around enough to become common property, as Andrea evidently has. She already has her lips locked around the swarthy unit of another of the Masters… a dark curly-haired arabish-looking fellow in a dark square shiny suit, an evil grin on his salt-and-pepper goateed face, his fiendish curly eyebrows knit and his stern black eyes glinting like an ayatollah's.

The slender platinum blonde's throat works subserviently on his hairy dick as it pokes out of his unzipped fly. Alison looks back over her shoulder at him uneasily, terrified that he will take it into his head to penetrate her exposed nether parts. There is little to stop him, other than the unwritten rules of the club. For the moment that is enough. The scary-looking arab guy walks away muttering, attracted by the sounds of a whip striking flesh across the room, not bothering to zip up his pants. He looks so comical with his fat dick hanging out that Alison can barely suppress a nervous giggle. “What's so funny, slave girl?” she hears a gravelly voice behind her.

It is Slate, standing there behind her with another man, tall, broad-shouldered and erect with white hair, looking sort of like an older airline pilot or TV newsman. Sort of a Peter Graves type, if you will, but serious and reserved in demeanor. Fat Sal has wandered off to pursue further adventures elsewhere. Fiona sits herself down on one of the couches around the circular grouping as Slate introduces Alison to Mister Goodwood, who stares gravely down at her bare white ass poking temptingly out of the bottom of her tight corset. Slate reaches down to caress her flanks, petting her like a horse tied up in a stall, making her wiggle around nervously as he points out her piercings and describing in glowing terms the sweet receptiveness of her behind. “And you say that you already have her trained to the whip?” the silver-haired gent queries. “She can't keep herself from coming on the post…” Slate laughs… “Take my word for it… this little slut needs a good whipping now and then, just to keep her pussy percolating. She needs to be punished.”

Alison gulps in anxiety as her nether parts are vented and inspected carefully, knowing that Slate isn't just talking. She's gonna get it. “It's a little too public here for my tastes…” the serious-looking gent indicates to Slate… “Why don't we retire to one of the private rooms along the hall to pursue this discussion further. I'm sure we'll find whatever instruments are necessary conveniently available. The two men agree, setting about to unfasten Alison and Andrea from the ottoman and helping them to rise. Taking the two women by the arms, they march them off out the double doors of the Game Room and down the darkly paneled hallway with Fiona as usual bringing up the rear, lugging her satchel.

There is a sort of gallery of bondage art running along between the doors of the hallway, each picture dramatically lit by a small spot. Women in tight leather or latex and rubber gear, bound and ringed, penetrated and tormented through all ages of history. Scenes of Roman slave girls, medieval inquisitors and heretics, etc. etc. Alison marches along reluctantly with Slate's hand on her upper arm. They pass the solid-looking wooden doors to a number of smaller rooms on the other side of the hallway from the Game Room. The Blue Room, the Red Room, etc. Discreet lights indicate whether the room is occupied. Finally they stop at the door to the Black room.

Goodwood takes a small key from a ring in his pocket to unlock the door, stepping aside to usher them in. The two corseted slave girls go first, with Fiona and the men following and clicking the door shut solidly behind them. As in the Game Room there are a number of low couches and large cushions of black velvet scattered about the floor of the medium-sized room. At one wall of the room is mounted a bondage horse and a whipping post, also done up in black. As a matter of fact, everything in the room is black, except for the glints of silver from the many rings and hooks which have been mounted on every piece of furniture, in every nook and corner. Black wallpaper, black carpet, black lampshades on the black lamps, black drapes and black lacquered chests of drawers filled with whips and chains and clamps and plugs. Black enema bags with big black balloons to hold their shiny black nozzles in place.

Fiona and the two men in their dark suits blend right into the blackness, Alison and Andrea standing out startlingly white amid the darkness that surrounds them. “Fiona, why don't you fix these girls a little pick-me-up…” Slate orders… “We wouldn't want little Alison here to poop out during her premiere performance, would we? I think Mr. Goodwood here would like to see them take it anally. Take out some long needles. We want to give it to them good and deep…” As Alison hears these words, her knees start shaking and her belly turns to water, knowing that in a matter of moments she will no doubt be tightly tied, holding her breath and feeling the glittering cold point of the lance poised to probe within her sensitive pink rectum.

Trembling and almost faint with fear, the breathless blonde nevertheless allows Slate to arrange her on one of the square ottomans so that she is up on all fours with her hands and ankles fastened to the four corners of the cushion underneath her. Goodwood fixes Andrea into a similar configuration. Alison looks back over her shoulder apprehensively, listening to the clink of glass and metal as Fiona prepares a series of injections for the two girls. Three 5cc syringes for each, with one, two and three inch needles. Alison closes her eyes, unable to watch as Fiona approaches her exposed hindquarters with the glittering hypo already in hand. She cries out as the shining surgical steel shaft penetrates her soft anal membranes, making her wince and a fat tear squeeze from the corner of her eye.

“OOOHHHH…” she sighs as the warm numbness and tingling excitement start to radiate and flow from the point of the needle where it is buried inside her. ‘OOOOOOHHHH…' she moans as the needle moves deeper within her, probing, spreading its glow up inside her ass and her suddenly wetly receptive cunt. Alison lets her head hang down limply between her arms, her whole being focused on the point of Fiona's shining hypodermic as it probes around inside her quivering rectal entrance, spreading a helpless liquid trembling wherever it goes. By the time Fiona empties the first of the hypos into her, she is already pretty spaced out, her mouth hanging open and her eyes getting glassy. Fiona goes over to repeat this procedure on Andrea as Slate picks up a second and longer needle and syringe and leans over Alison's behind, placing the flat of his hand on the small of her back to hold her still. “I'll take over now…” he says.

For a long moment, she can just feel the tip of the point poised at the very center of her anal dot, tickling her. Slate scrapes it around there, teasing her with it and pricking her gently, making her whimper and whine in the back of her throat, before he suddenly thrusts the whole length of the two-inch needle directly down into the sidewall of her slick pink rectum up there behind her cunt. Alison cries out as she is suddenly speared, then melts again into quiet acceptance as she feels more drugged warmth blossoming deeper and deeper into her belly and up her hot ass. She moves with Slate now, unconsciously pushing herself back against the needle to get it deeper inside her as he probes it around, pulling it back only to sink it deeper and higher up her asshole. “I've got her trained to the needle, too.” Slate remarks to his companion, who is completing a similar operation on the platinum blonde tied up before him.

“She loves it when I give it to her up the ass…” the saturnine exec gloats as he finally pulls the empty syringe from the pink clinging flesh of Alison's inner walls. Liquid tremors of delight flutter though the blonde, making her arms and legs feel rubbery. She lets her head sink down into the cushion beneath her so that only her rear is raised up in the air, her face down on the pillow sideways and her mouth hanging open. Slate walks around in front of her to show her the wicked-looking three-inch needle on the syringe he carries in his right hand. “You know what I'm going to do with this?…” the cruel-looking construction honcho taunts her.

“Yesss… yesss, Sir…” the frightened blonde confesses… “You're going to put it in my ass… way down deep inside…” doped-out blonde admits, shamed but anxious now to feel another syringe full of liquid pleasure even deeper up her spasming asshole. Slate circles around again to her hips, satisfied with this confession. He sticks his finger up hr quivering pink rectum, stretching it out around his stiff digit and then using the tip of his finger to guide the point of the three-inch needle up into the girl's anal canal. He threads it up there carefully, pushing the smooth glass barrel of the syringe up and into her well-lubricated asshole at the same time, not stopping until two inches of its length are gripped inside the whimpering slavegirl's slick pink rectum, with another three inches of needle buried in the inner flesh of her ass. Thus the point of the needle is now buried in her squishy ass guts about five inches up inside her. Alison sighs and moans, pushing back with her inner walls on the steel shaft of the needle as jolts of hot wet electricity and liquid warmth blossom inside her, wanting to feel it deeper now, deeper… “OOOOOOHHH… AAAAAHHHHHH… OOOOOOHHHH…” She coos, totally lost in the waves of warm gushy sensuality and anxious desire that wash over her trembling body. Still, she remains carefully motionless, totally transfixed by the steel shaft of the needle that penetrates into her feminine core from behind.

Meanwhile, Goodwood looks on in grim satisfaction and fascination as Fiona administers to Andrea in a similar fashion. Alison's whole lower belly and tush now feel as though they are filled with liquid heat from the cumulative effect of all these injections. Her head is spinning and swimming with fearful excitement and drugged-out docility, lost in some dreamy never-never land. On the couch next to her, her sister in submission is in a similar state, tossing her head around vaguely and moaning as the drugs take their effect upon her. Slate empties the last of the syringe inside the trembling slave girl, stepping back and setting down the syringe, which Fiona picks up and packs away.

“Yeah, a little speedball up the ass is all these bitches need…” Slate comments to his serious-looking companion… “Then they lose their fucking minds… ready to do anything and love you for it…” “Sad but true…” the taller man agrees, wiping his fingers fastidiously. “They're all such fucking sluts… they deserve a good whipping…” “Indeed…” Slate agrees… “…And I'm betting that you're just the guy to help me give it to them!… Why don't we get my little trainee here over on the bondage horse and Andrea can go cuddle up to the whipping post. Then we can see which one of them comes faster under the lash. My money's on Alison here, even though she's not as well-trained as the other babe. She's just a natural… I'll bet I can have her creaming and popping her cookies by the twenty-fifth lash.”

“Well, I've been known as a pretty fair hand with the lash myself…” Goodwood muses. “Perhaps a little wager would make it more interesting… let's say a thousand bucks?…” “Done…” says Slate… “One thousand bucks says that I can make Alison come with my whip before you can do the same with Andrea. “Oh no…” says Goodwood… “Let's switch girls, and then see who comes first. No doubt Alison has special feelings for you which may give you a certain advantage…”

“Alison's special feelings extend to any man who whips her ass…” Slate declares roughly. “I'll still bet she comes before Andrea does…” Goodwood agrees to the terms. “Just don't cut her up too much…” warns Slate. “I don't want her injured… just punished…” The two girls' ears burn as they listen to their fate being decided casually by the two men, looking at each other helplessly as they hear their fate being decided casually by the two men and hearing that they are about to be flogged, but it seems to Alison as if the words are coming from a million miles away. Andrea tries to smile encouragingly at her, as if to say I know you can take it. Of course she can take it… she has no choice but to take it…

She feels the strong hands of the two men taking her by the arms and legs, unfastening her from the black velvet cushion beneath her knees and elbows and carrying her limply unprotesting and stoned-out body ober to the bondage horse in the corner of the room, laying her down on her belly and fastening her arms and legs straight out and down to the legs of the device. She is now draped over the top of the sawhorse-like contraption, its padded top bar pressed tightly into her shaved and pierced crotch. A little clip mounted on the top of the device is fastened to the ring in her anxious little clit, making it impossible for her to raise her hips off the bench without tearing it out.

As the two men walk off to hang Andrea up at the obsidian whipping post, Fiona scoots over to Alison. “Here… bite on these… it will help you to not to scream too much…” the dark-haired girl suggests, stuffing the blonde's whiffy white panties into her open and gasping mouth. “Goodwood doesn't really like it when they scream too much. Just pretend to come for him and everyone will be happy…” “Yerffs mifftreffsss…” Alison garbles, her mouth full of her own cunty-smelling sheers. Meanwhile, Slate and Goodwood have gotten the other girl fixed to the post on the other side of the room and are both selecting their instruments from off the rack on the wall. Two heavy cats of black leather with knotted ends are chosen, along with a couple of heavy straps and studded leather paddles, sufficient to cause severe reddening or even blistering of the flesh but not to leave permanent scars. Of course, with these objects it is possible to beat a girl for much longer than with a crop or whip, since you don't have to worry so much about breaking the flesh of the victim. Goodwood gives one of the straps an exploratory swing, feeling its heft. Evidently a long, drawn out session is planned.

Alison hangs her head, chewing on her own soiled panties, resigned and breathless with fearful anticipation as her counterpart hangs there ready at the post and the two men take their positions up behind them. Her well-fucked and multiply-injected asshole still throbs and aches pleasantly with the afterglow of the many orgasms she enjoyed under Slate's driving dick, and the load of drugs swirling though her bloodstream has her every nerve tingling in anticipation. Even though she knows it will be painful, she looks forward to her whipping, knowing that when it is done she will feel cleansed, purified, and with a redoubled dedication to her Master.

The truth is that she needs it, she realizes… needs it to wash away the foul taste of her own complicity in this affair, the nagging guilt she feels at having surrendered herself too easily, too willingly. Slate had promised to make her his whore, then punish her for it. To the spaced-out blonde on the bondage horse, it seems somehow fitting. You can't have one without the other. No doubt the other slave girl hanging at the whipping post undergoes a similar mental process as she prepares herself to be beaten, or perhaps she is too accustomed to such events by now to even think about it any more, merely accepting and submitting to whatever is demanded of her without question.

In any case, the two men are now ready to begin, looking at each other with a nod to signal that the time has come. Each of them has taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves to the work. Meanwhile, Fiona has withdrawn to a low couch in the corner and is busy giving herself a fix, pulling aside the crotch of her black panties to empty a syringe inside one of her fat pussy lips. A sensual relaxed glow suffuses her womanly features as she lays back on the black velvet couch, watching.

CRACKCRACK! The two paddles fall almost in unison. The two bound submissives cry out, not so much in pain as yet as in startlement. It has begun. CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! The heavy leather instruments impact the white ass cheeks of the two young women loudly, making them ripple with the energy of the blow. CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! The wide paddles distribute the force of each smack more or less evenly over the surface, spreading a rosy pink glow and building heat all over each of the two sex slave's soft girlish butts. “I'd say twenty five with the paddles, followed by twenty five with the strap and another twenty five with the heavy cat…” says Goodwood. “Agreed…” replies Slate, grunting slightly with effort as he slams the paddle into Andrea's sweet and vulnerable-looking backside, earning a gasp and the first trickle of a tear that forms in the corner of the platinum blonde's doe-like eyes. She involuntarily bucks her hips up against the pole between her legs with the impact and sends a lightning bolt of arousal shooting up from her multiply-pierced clit to her dope-addled brain.

Andrea bites her lip, looking back at Slate imploringly. Of course, this only incites him to paddle her harder. CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! But there will be pleasure mixed with the pain. She grinds her naked pussy up against the whipping post in rhythm with the paddling of her butt, her eyes closed and her mouth open as she whimpers in pain and arousal. Meanwhile, Alison is undergoing a similar apotheosis. CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! Every time the paddle falls on her, her hips jerk and wiggle in response to the blow as the heat spreads through her rapidly reddening ass cheeks. This causes her to pull and grind herself down on the ring that fastens her distended clit to the pad of the bondage horse underneath her belly, sending jolts of fearful excitement and melting submission up and down her spine, somehow mixing delightfully with the painful burning of her rear. Alison realizes that what Slate had said is true. That it doesn't really matter who beats her, that she will still experience the same surrender, the same abandon…

CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! On it goes, the only sounds in the room the cracking of the paddles, the men's heavy breathing and the whimpers and sniffles of the two slave girls, who are both now starting to cry as they helplessly grind their pussies against the bondage devices between their legs in an effort to block out or at least make bearable the sizzling pain in their paddled asses by stimulating their hot pierced little clits. Alison bites down on the come-soaked panties in her mouth, resolved to try not to scream or beg this time. CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! As if divining her resolve, Goodwood redoubles his efforts with the paddle, resolved to break her will. CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACK! The two men suddenly stop, turning to look at each other. “Was that twenty-five? I must admit I lost track in the heat of the moment.” Goodwood asks. “I dunno… I think so. It doesn't matter. These little sluts are in no position to complain…” Slate replies. “But let's move on… do you have those straps handy?”

“Of course…” agrees Goodwood, walking over to the rack on the wall to select a black leather belt about two inches wide by four feet long. He doubles it over and wraps the end of it around his strong=looking hand, handing a similar object to Slate. “Let's see how they respond to this…” he announces as the two men walk around to examine the faces of their suffering slave girls, both now streaked with tears with the mascara running down their smooth cheeks as they helplessly await further punishment. Their asses glow a bright shade of pinkish magenta all over. “You've got to get past the stage of tears…” Slate announces… “Until they're screaming and begging for mercy. That's how to really put ‘em in their place.” “My thoughts exactly…” replies Goodwood, limbering up his arm and planting his feet wide apart as he resumes his position behind Alison's red-hot posterior, giving himself enough room to swing the strap freely.

SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! The straps fall with sizzling impact, raising darker reddish welts two inches wide across the two bound girls' quivering rumps. SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSWACKK! SSSWACKK! Alison is sobbing and sniveling again as her hips resume their dance on the bondage horse between her legs, unconsciously seeking relief in orgasm from the sting of the strap. She burns with humiliation, knowing that Slate has planned it this way, and that she will not be able to keep herself from responding in the manner he has designed. Already she feels her belly beginning to tighten up and coil, a knot of tension forming up there behind her super-sensitive pierced clit in the depths of her sweet hairless cunt.

SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! Both girls are crying freely now, their bodies shaking with sobs and their bosoms heaving. Furiously Alison grinds her open crotch into the black leather pad to which her clit is fastened, pulling and stretching on her delicate feminine erection, sending lightning bolts of pierced pain and shocking arousal through her tight little belly as she desperately tries to lose herself in a slutty sexual reverie and channel the pain of the relentless whipping into hot cunty excitement, letting the lash of strap drive her to new levels of submissive delight. SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! The two blonde slave girls are getting into it now… their cries of shock and hurt with each blow blending into grunts and moans of arousal, no longer wanting the whipping to stop just yet… Just a few more strokes and she'll be there, Alison thinks to herself as she feels her come gathering in the pit of her stomach, shivering with unreleased sexual tension, her throat thick as she whimpers and whines.

SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! The helpless blonde writhes in her bondage, chewing on the wadded-up and come-flavored panties in her mouth. Suddenly a bomb explodes inside her, her body shivering and shaking violently on the horse as wave after wave of hot wet ecstasy shoots through her, making her grind her teeth and almost tearing the ring from her excitedly twitching clit where it is locked to the leather pad pressed up between her legs. Goodwood never stops his relentless strapping of her behind. SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACK! SSSWACKK! Her body gradually fades into a sort of numbed afterglow, hardly even feeling the crack of the strap now on her welted posteriors, temporarily beyond responding to anything.

SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! SSSWACKK! On the smooth black post set up for her correction, Andrea lets out a muffled screech, bucking her smooth hips up and down to the limit of her ability on the pole that separates her long nyloned legs, rubbing her denuded crotch shamelessly on the phallic obelisk as she finally gets herself off, just as Slate is laying the twenty-fifth lash upon her well-welted rear end. “I guess you win…” Goodwood remarks ruefully to the other man as Slate carelessly tosses the strap aside. “For an amateur, your little Alison is certainly well-trained to the whip. She can't keep herself from coming, can she?” “No she can't, the little whore…” Slate replies darkly. Alison overhears this conversation with some anxiety. She feels the disapproval in Slate's voice. Maybe he didn't want her to surrender herself quite so easily to the urging of Goodwood's strap, she wonders confusedly. Still he did brag to the other man about her responsiveness… is it possible that he could be a little bit jealous? The thought secretly pleases her. How silly he is. Doesn't he know that for her there can be no other, that Goodwood or Spider or any of the other men he has handed her over to are really just extensions of himself? She belongs to him in a special way, no matter who may take or use her body in the meantime.

“Let's switch places…” Slate suggests. “I think I better remind this little fucking whore who her real Master is.” Alison feels a thrill of terror run through her. She is going to pay in pain for Slate's little flash of jealousy. The game's not over yet. Meanwehile, Goodwood has no such emotions. He just likes to beat the asses of naked slave girls. One girl or the other, it doesn't matter much. It just makes his dick hard to make them cry. So even though the bet's been won, he's always ready to dole out some more punishment.

As a matter of fact, the tall older guy has yet to show any emotion at all, other than a certain straightforward determination. He never smiles or looks angry, never shows much of anything on his bland poker face. He has yet to even take his cock out of his pants. In a way, his cold aloofness is even more scary than Slate's crude zeal. At least Alison knows that Slate takes a certain savage joy and satisfaction in the things he has done to her. She wonders if Goodwood feels anything at all. At any rate it doesn't matter now. Now she must deal with an aroused and angry Slate who is determined to make his mark on her. He approaches her with the heavy black leather cat in his hand, drawing a bead on her already reddened and welted tush as the other man takes position behind Andrea, who is still strapped up there straddling the pillar, squirming and shifting her weight anxiously from one high-heeled foot to the other.

WHAPPPPP! The nine braided leather thongs of the cat whistle through the air, meeting the tied-up blonde's upraised buns in an explosion of burning pain. Alison jerks in her shackles, her eyes popping open, too shocked to even scream for a second. WHAPPPP! Without pause, Slate lets her have it again. Alison lets out a muffled shriek, still chewing on the soiled panties. She panics, trying to spit them out… WHAPPPP! This hurts much worse than the strap… WHAPPPP! There's nothing erotic about this beating… it's sheer pain. WHAPPPP! Finally she manages to push the wadded up panties out of her mouth with her tongue, letting loose with a full-throated scream… WHAPPPP! Before she can catch her breath, he strikes her again… She gulps for air, wanting to plead, wanting to beg… WHAPPPP! If he knew how badly he was hurting her… WHAPPPP! “PLEEEASSSE… MASTER… PLEEEASSSE…” she implores him… WHAPPPP! “PLEEEASSSE STOP… PLEEASE… OHHH GODDD…” WHAPPPP! By the tenth stroke she is begging and pleading shamelessly for him to stop, if even for just as minute… The five black scars of the crop on her bright red behind have opened and are starting to ooze blood again.

WHAPPPP! WHAPPPP! WHAPPPP! Time seems to stretch out forever with the intensity of her suffering and the flaming agony in her butt. After a few more lashes she gives up begging and pleading and just screams… Screams and shrieks and screams some more as the whipping continues relentlessly. Twenty… twenty one… twenty two… Alison counts the lashes silently in her head, knowing it must end, hoping it will end… Twenty three… twenty four… twenty five… Finally! There… he must be through, she imagines thankfully, her chest heaving with her sobs.

WHAPPPP! He gives her another, provoking a fresh outburst of screams. She thought he would stop at twenty five… They said they would stop at twenty five… WHAPPPP! Alison sobs brokenly, realizing that Slate could go on beating her all night, if he feels like it. WHAPPPP! She screams again in helpless frustration and self-pity, knowing that there's not a damn thing she can do about it. WHAPPPP! She moans low down in her throat, an ugly sound born of torture and despair… WHAPPPP! With a flourish, Slate tosses the cat aside, finally stopping at thirty. Alison lies there heaving and sniveling and totally miserable, her chin trembling, feeling totally lost and in a world of hurt, convinced that Slate must hate her now to treat her co cruelly. She could bear almost any punishment more easily than his disapproval.

“It always helps to give them a few extra at the end…” Slate remarks conversationally… “Just when they think it's over. It really breaks their spirit when they have to take some more…” Indeed, Andrea is in little better shape than Alison, still hanging from the whipping post exhausted by her ordeal and nearly unconscious. “I guess these two have had enough for tonight…” says Goodwood. “There's no point beating them senseless.”

“I agree…” Slate replies… “But surely you could use some relief from your shall we say tensions…? Fiona, get your lazy ass up and come over here… Mister Goodwood requires you to service him…” the hard-faced construction exec commands. “Uhh… Yessir, Boss…” the brunette mumbles, shaking herself out of her drug-induced haze. She's not all that surprised to find she might still be called upon. To tell the truth, she has been getting a little frustrated at being Alison's nursemaid and seeing the cute little blonde get all the action. After witnessing so many acts of sadomasochistic drama, her tightly-trimmed little pussy is ready for a good solid fucking. She'd already been thinking of how she could lure the ever-stolid Tony upstairs at the end of the evening. Maybe he's not long on brains or imagination, but he does have a nice thick prick. But now maybe she won't have to wait so long… Clad only in her black bra, panties and nylons she walks over to the two men and kneels down on her knees. She looks up at Goodwood questioningly and he nods impassively.

With his permission, she reaches up to unzip his fly and pull out his dick, already hard with the excitement of previous events. Her sensual bright red lips fasten greedily on his knob, sucking the grave-looking gent's white pecker into her throat, working up and down on it. Goodwood's face never changes its expression, although his prick is jumping around like a snake with its head cut off. Slate kneels down behind Fiona, pulling her black sheer panties down over her ample ass cheeks and loosening his belt to ease down his pants. The brunette leans forward, wiggling her butt to grant him easier access as he brings his solid cock up to the wet lips of her pussy. She grunts with satisfaction as his massive thickness batters past her labia and sinks easily into her hot wet squirmy cunt, the apple-sized head bumping hard against the back wall of her vagina as he fucks her like a dog.

The brunette slurps and snorks loudly on Goodwood's hot pecker, dribbling her saliva down onto her breasts as Slate fucks her hard and fast, not wasting any time on preliminaries. Good thing for her she was already pretty well warmed-up, she thinks, mewling and shuddering with pleasure as her wet and receptive pussy starts clamping down on her boss' driving dickmeat. Meanwhile, a tiny tic has appeared at the corner of Goodwood's right eye, the only indication besides the tightening of his nuts that he is about to come. The sonofabitch is hardly even breathing hard. “GUHHH…” The air explodes from his mouth as his throbbing twitching member spurts its hot slimy load, filling Fiona's eagerly sucking throat with sticky come that bubbles out of the corners of her mouth and drips down her chin as he thrusts himself in and out of her.

Almost simultaneously, she feels Slate's dick exploding inside the depths of her slippery wet cunt, making her toss her ass around wildly as her spasmodically working pussy muscles suck the come right out of his balls. Slate pats her rump affectionately with his hand. The kinky dark-haired vixen just sits there on her heels, demurely wiping her chin with a tissue. Goodwood takes a few steps back, gathering himself as he reaches down to zip his fly back up. “It's getting late…” he says… “I must excuse myself. I'll send one of the security guys to collect Andrea…”

In fact, the platinum-haired hostess is completely passed out on the whipping post, down for the count. Alison is not in much better shape, exhausted and sore from her ordeal and beginning to come down from her drug-induced euphoria. Slate commands Fiona to pack up her bag and get dressed. It's time to go. Quickly, the brunette bitch gets herself together, pulling on her jumpsuit and gathering up their belongings into her capacious bag. She wipes the drops of blood from the oozing welts on her roommate's severely beaten buttocks. “Do you wanna try and get this dress back on her, Boss?” Fiona questions, indicating the half-conscious blonde with a movement of her head. “No… don't bother… We'll just wrap the cape around her…” Slate responds… “Ring for some help, will you? I think we're going to have to carry her to the car.”

In a matter of moments, two of the hulking black-suited guards are at the door, lifting Alison from the bondage horse, wrapping her in the white satin cape and carrying her out the door and down the stairs as if she were as light as a feather. She whimpers slightly as they lift her but other than that she hardly stirs. In the hallway downstairs, they prop her up on her feet, the black-hooded enforcers supporting her as they wait for Tony to bring the limo around. As the car pulls up to the curb they are buzzed out the double doors and back into the August night. It is looking dark and stormy. As they half-walk half-carry the girl down the stairs to the sidewalk a sudden gust of wind blows Alison's cape open. A couple of young revelers passing by on the sidewalk across the street get a good look at her naked pierced cunt and long nyloned legs, making them whistle and point. Quickly the two goons hustle Alison into the big black car, propping her up between Fiona and Slate in the back seat once more as outside it begins to rain. She moans at the contact of her bruised rear end with the car seat, then sinks into a semi-conscious daze as Tony pulls the car out into traffic.

Slate leans toward her to talk softly into her multiply-pierced ear, putting an arm around her caped shoulders. “I know you can hear me, Alison… I wanted to tell you that you were a very good girl tonight. You made me proud of you. I don't hate you the way you think I do. Your punishment was really more for your own good than mine. A necessary part of your training… you'll understand that better in time…”

The lovely blonde leans her head back against Slate's shoulder, comforted and somewhat reassured by his soft words, although her savagely abused bottom tells a different story. She is surprised to realize that she doesn't feel any anger towards him, in spite of the fresh pain and humiliation he has inflicted upon her. Rather, she feels a renewed devotion and grateful acceptance of her enslaved state. Relaxed and at peace with herself, the luscious if slightly shopworn blonde drifts into a doze, lulled by the sound of the limo's wheels on the wet city pavement.

THIS ENDS THE FIRST BOOK. STAY TUNED FOR THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ALISON IN A SECOND VOLUME.

Thrilling Rape Fantasies - Illustrated

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