BDSM Library - Slave Hunters, Slave Preys

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Ch

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Ch. 01

by Nikita and Wolff

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

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

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

This chapter was written by Nikita and Wolff.

Hunters And Preys

The cabin was filled with familiar airplane drone. Inaudible, yet powerful.

The tall, dark stranger was listening to something else. He didn't need to close his eyes to hear the faint baying of the pack. No matter how far they were, somewhere, the moon was rising over the horizon. Ever so often, the gruff stranger pictured a thirteen-year-old boy with mischievous blue eyes that overwhelmed a face with high cheekbones. The boy was a handful of bubbling energy as he dashed about with his slim, wiry legs, dreaming of the running with the wolf pack.

"Mr. Wolf, care for a glass of Cristal?” said flame haired flight attendant. Her nametag said Carleen.

His long legs stuck into the aisle. The designer jeans had appropriately spaced rips and holes. His face possessed deep, knowing eyes that held your attention despite the diamond stud that glinted on his earlobe.

"Mr. Wolf, care for a glass of Cristal?” she repeated, her voice like clinking glasses, trying to hint at the pastime she could be.

"Yes, please. By the way, why haven't we taken off yet?"

The Wolf had an eastern European accent that was hard to place. His dark wavy hair was secured by a rubber band. Still, he could have been traveling incognito or a lucky fuck who won the lotto.

"We have a passenger that was running a little late, but she just checked in,” she said apologetically.

Her passenger captivated Carleen. She was always a sucker for quiet, pensive men who wore an aura of mystery like an invisible shield.

What's more -- when he first saw her, his eyes had lit with recognition, and then he had stopped and obviously backed off mentally, closing like a lizard covering it’s eyes with nictitating membrane. Her need to be taken by this man did not end with juices beading her shaven pussy.

As he accepted the glass of Cristal from the red headed toy, a suitable diversion for the duration of the trip, The Wolf nodded and went back to his iPod.

The Late Passenger

Like a summer breeze, the tardy passenger gracefully slid into the seat across and several rows behind the Wolf and busied herself with being unobtrusive. Although she wasn't tall, her presence added to her stature. She wore an exclusive Chikgeneric two piece. It was a subtle combination of business-like strictness and wantonness. In profile, she looked mysterious, her dark hair cut into one of those messy, wispy styles. However, when she turned to look at him, her face opened up to a warm smile.

Even before the woman entered, he felt the gentle wave of energy float down the aisle intermingled with her scent. Then the wave became tangy and tangible. The baying arose in Wolf's head. The smile that followed it was too warm, like the onrush of tropical butterfly, flashy and wide open. Yet, she was sanguine and spirited.

As often before, a whistle of cold winds from the mountains of the moon redefined such smiles for him. He almost performed the usual ritual of reaching for his mirrored sunglasses. He knew what would silence the pack. It will not be accomplished by the redirecting of the sheer power he felt emanating from the woman - he would handle that, suck it in like his distant cousins, vampires. No, it would take domination of her sanguinity, the capture of ease with which she shed her cloak of power as she entered.

'Forget the vampires,' he thought to himself, 'You never met any and do not believe in them anyway. What you want is her kneeling at your cock, the worship pouring from the pores of her sweating whipped body. You must have that. That is why you arranged to have her board THIS plane.'

"Ms. Wilson, how nice to see you flying with us again.” beamed Carleen, as she bowed her head to kiss the proffered hand.

"Hi yourself! Nikita. Please. At least for the duration of the flight,” she insisted, squinting her eyes at the Wolf.

The cold reaction from this gruff stranger stung and she was about to extract payment from him. But, this airplane was like no one she had flown before and various bills from her past were finally due.

The flustered Carleen nodded, displaying a familiar neediness for approval. No signal was needed. It was understood that their relationship be invisible in front of others.

The Wolf was disconcerted as he saw the exchange. The flightslut was taken! But his eyes followed her curvy walk until she was out of sight. As he looked at the woman, he thought about her strange name, Nikita. 'Shall I keep that name? Have it engraved on silver dog tag?'

Nikita kicked off her shoes and settled back to look out the window with a glass of Chardonnay in her hand. Once they were airborne, she took out her computer and started typing, in staccato, a pencil behind her ear. Immersed in thought, she did not notice the Wolf shift.

When the ‘fasten your seat belt’ finally went off the Wolf motioned for Carleen. She'd inhaled his scent when he boarded, a combination of cologne, expensive cigarettes, and testosterone. It sent shivers up her spine and twitched her pussy. She was ready to drop to her knees.

"Yes, Mr. Wolf?” she asked.

"Who's she?” he whispered, pointing his head toward Nikita.

He knew the answer. He knew all FACTS about that woman except he did not really KNOW her and did not posses her, yet.

"Oh. Mistr... uh, Ms. Wilson. She's a writer. Perhaps you've read her books?” said Carleen.

Carleen's heart was singing to him. He knew WHAT she was and WHO she was, or rather who she was NOT. Finding out who the other woman REALLY was would be an interesting and rewarding pursuit.

Nikita smiled to herself as she listened to the exchange between Carleen and the gruff stranger and continued to peck at her keyboard as the story flowed through her fingers.

She loved to torment Carleen on these long flights, by teasing and playing with her. She was allowed to orgasm at the end of the trip and only on Nikita's command.

Her laptop snapped shut, she turned toward the window and played with a wisp of her hair. After awhile, she drew a blanket over herself and closed her eyes.

Ping Ponging the Attendant

The Wolf's finger traveled to the burning cheek of the cherubic flight attendant as he briefly contemplated taking this morsel for himself, right now, and damn that Nikita bitch! But, baying in his head became urgently threatening.

He gently cupped her chin upwards; his hands fondled her breasts. She leaned toward the open palm, melting into it and buckled. The Wolf caught her before her knees touched the deck. She crouched to steady herself as he fixed his gaze on her violet eyes.

"You belong to her?” he asked.

Another flush enveloped her heartlike face.

"No sir. I would... but she... no, sir I don't."

"You do,” he said as he reached for the rubberband holding his hair.

He wound and rewound the rubberband around his fingers, considering, and looking at the little pawn. Captivated with the rubberband, Carleen rode the bittersweet heat wave.

"Hands on the back."

When she complied he leaned over and wound the rubberband around her wrists. The Wolf forced her to gaze at the power in his eyes and feel his will.

"You will go to this Nikita and sit beside her..."

"But sir, I can't do that. Regulations..."

Sighing, the Wolf applied more of his will. "You will sit with her, snuggle up to her, perhaps nibble on her ear...very gently. When she notices you will ask, no, beg her, if I may...how do you Americans say it? Stick my hot dog in your bun. Those exact words, do you understand, Carleen?"

She nodded fearfully and said, "Yes sir".

"I'm not your sir. It's Mr. Wolf to you. Now go."

Admiring how the rigid triangle of her bound arms contrasted with the sway of her hips, the Wolf watched her move off towards Nikita.

He had PINGED the attendant. He will patiently wait for PONG. Not too patiently though. The phantom baying in his head was getting insistent as it usually did when the haunted hunter was in view of a kill.

The little flame snuggled against Nikita's sleeping form. The little flame did not dare move under the blanket, but looked adoringly at Nikita's serene face. He thought there was a glint beneath the irresistible woman's eyes, but he was not sure.

He settled down to wait and took his glass again. It was empty. The plane softly droned on.

Peeking through the thick fringe of her eyelashes Nikita had watched his strong hand play with the glass, then she had shifted her gaze, her lids like slits, to the bound Carleen, walking to her.

She loved the poise of the little wench, breasts thrust out, yet ready to fall at her knees at the slightest glance.

Nikita closed her eyes again and replayed the vision of the stranger. 'Wolf, was that a name? A descriptive title of some sort or a joke?

It was almost hypnotic. He was unwinding his rubberband, as if playing with a dangerous snake, and then quickly binding her sub's wrists.

He sent her to Nikita. He was not someone who she could wind around her little finger, toy with for awhile, and then, discard.

She shifted her body so that Carleen, inching fluidly from adjacent seat could cuddle up to her, heated spoon to heated spoon. Soft butterfly kisses tickled her neck as Carleen's tongue cat-licked Nikita's hot skin, cat like. Pink earlobes anticipated wet nibbles mixed with warm breath and sweet words.

"He is wearing something in HIS earlobe,” thought Nikita idly, "Is it a diamond?"

Nikita let herself open up, allowing the flame's attentive ministrations turn into barely controlled desperation. Drowning in her need of acknowledgement Carleen intensified her efforts on Nikita's pussy. Nikita greedily drank the submissive's offering. Suddenly, she came to her senses and lifted the little slave's head from between her legs. As she stared into the mournful Carleen's face her slim fingers pinched the slick cheeks and puckered wet lips.

"What are you up to, little weasel? My ear is all wet!"

Nikita's eyes flashed fire at the upturned heart shaped face. Carleen gazed at Nikita adoringly, even when tears streamed down her cheeks while Nikita squeezed even harder, forcing her mouth into a desperate moue.

"Well? Speak up, ma petite...” she said quietly, as her hand relaxed.

"He ordered me..."

"He? He ORDERED you? Since when do you take orders from... strangers?"

"Mistress please...he made me...come to you and ...oh...please...I had to!"

Nikita grabbed little sub's rubber entrapped wrists, "These are not mine, are they?"

Biting back the pain, she wailed, "Ouch...ouch... ouch...no... Mistress."

"What did he want with you? Taking liberties with my possession!” she huffed.

"He said he...ouch...it hurts...Mistress, he said to ask, beg you to let him stick his hot dog into my bun, please.” she pleaded.

Her eyes widened with mirth as she repeated Carleen's words, "He did? He'd like to stick his DOG?” She lifted her eyes towards him.

The Wolf sat sideways, his long legs splayed in the aisle. As he focused on the exchange, partially hidden by the seat in front, his hand was squeezing his knee in anticipation. As she lifted her head, he sat upright and faced Nikita's green eyes squarely.

Their gazes met. Collided and SNAPPED together.

Carleen thought she heard the distinct crack of an electrical charge, the smell of ozone, and the brief fragrance of wild violets.

He almost flinched from the power surge that crashed on him. Nikita's smile slowly widened, then stopped. She felt a force emanating from him, pushing back. Trying to resist she found out there was nothing to push back against. It was like pushing against a hole; pushing against the inhaling abyss that opened and sucked her in it's blue-gray grotto.

She fell in the electricBLEU tunnel pulling her like a current, upwards and downwards at the same time. It was moist, the heat overpowering. She wanted to swoon, give in to it, go lie and bask in that heat, but there was nowhere to go.

Nikita lost her footing and there were no coordinates.

As heat rose from her throbbing pussy, it engulfed her by concentrating in the pulsing lump in her throat. Feeling her weakness exposed, she wanted to die. But first, she needed to get down on her knees.

She also wanted to grab him by the throat and squeeze.

"Is this the famous Dom look she's heard about?” she thought. "Hogwash!"

The tunnel dissipated and morphed Nikita back into the airplane cabin. She thought she heard the crack of lightning, causing the cabin to shudder. As the tunnel winked out of existence, a vision was thrust on her: a series of wolf shadows on a mountain ridge, a cortege in search of prey. The last wolf stopped and turned towards her. It was a cut-out of complete emptiness on the starry bulk of endless night sky.

It's eyes flashed ultra violet and the voice drifted to her, like a heady night scent.

"DO IT."

Casting away this vision, she shuddered. Nikita energetically pushed and twisted her hapless whelp of a sub sideways, so that her ass was facing Nikita while her head hung over the side, sweaty wisps of hair falling helplessly.

Carleen yelped as Nikita plucked the rubberband from her hands.

The Wolf watched Nikita hold up his hair band. He nodded imperceptibly as she wound it around her fingers and severed it with a loud SNAP, acknowledging her outrage. She put the rubberband in her bag as a trophy of sorts.

‘Hey, that is MY BOND!’ flashed trough his mind. He felt sheared of his power. Like Samson, his hand flew up, as if to check that his thick hair was still there.

The Wolf watched the American, mesmerized by her actions. Nikita was tumbling the little flight attendant like a toddler, pushing her into the seat, keeping her hands pinned and her legs pushed up against her heaving breasts. She pushed Carleen's blue skirt up around her waist revealing the pale thighs contrasting against the smoky stockinged legs. The pants were pulled off, the elastic snapped against poor Carleen's ass.

Nikita wadded them up into a ball, sniffed, then flaunted them to the motionless Wolf. He noted the dampness of the cotton and wondered if it was an offer. Her fingers enveloped the panties, pushed them between her legs, and she rocked from side to side, holding them in place with her hand. The honey scent of her sex wafted toward the Wolf's nose.

He watched her admire the slickness of her fingers and lick them wearing a smug smile on her face. She looked down at Carleen and slapped the naked red-haired person's bum hard, leaving a distinct palm print. Holding the Wolf's mesmerized gaze, she struck Carleen's rapidly reddening ass again and again.

The power level in the cabin rose by degrees with every whimper of the twitching sub. The surges of damp heat emanated from Nikita with each throb of his cock bulging his jeans. As the impudent sub's ass suffered a few more slaps, Nikita's hand snaked toward her back while the other explored Carleen's burning flesh. She found her bag of toys, caressing them while she brushed the rubberband against her cheek.

With a mischievous expression on her face, Nikita shook her hair with wild abandon. She whipped her fiery toy while the Wolf was straining to feign disinterest in what Nikita was going to do.

He got a glimpse of dull metal and watched as Nikita worked on Carleen. The Wolf was imagining all sorts of plugs, clamps, eggs and combinations thereof as he observed the sub twitching, twisting, and being forced into angles.

Nikita leaned over the panting girl and gently caressed her burning ass, her damp locks plastered on her face. As she whispered in her ear, Nikita pecked at her cheeks and tasted a salty tear.

"Here baby,” she cooed, "take these over to the nice man."

Then her hand went between her own legs, came back with the panties. She meticulously stuffed Carleen' own panties intermingled with Nikita's pussy juice in the waiting mouth, patiently pushing the material in, overcoming resistance, keeping eye contact with the Wolf as she did so.

She pulled the whimpering waif's skirt down, helped the girl up, supporting her, waiting for her to find the balance. Finally, giving her one more spank, she sent down the aisle their mutual Ping-Pong ball towards him.

The panty gag fascinated the Wolf as he wondered whose panties they were.

‘Can he discern the difference between the scent of the two women?’ flashed the thought through Nikita's mind.

As Carleen tottered toward him, Nikita held up one finger for the Wolf.

One hole only.

He smiled. Yes, he could do that, and more than that. 'Ok, one hole for starters.' She had PONGED the attendant back! The irreversible game was – ON!

He looked at the strange woman, checking to see if she changed her mind and he noticed a glass that rolled on the floor. He picked it up, wondering, 'which hole? '

The Wolf was standing expectantly as Carleen made her way to him. He grinned at Nikita as he bent the girl over his knee. Carleen wiggled like a puppy. He was thinking with his cock while the pack was baying impatiently in the background of his mind.

With the impatience of a teenager, he unwrapped his living doll to find an unexpected surprise. Dumbfounded for an instant, he resisted looking in Nikita's direction. As annoyance welled up like slow sunburn, the Wolf used his instincts to adjust to the circumstances. He looked up as if a light bulb went off in his head.

"Let me help you take those panties out of your mouth.” he said sweetly, and tucked them in his pocket.

"If you want to, sir. What can I do for you, Mr. Wolf? Please tell me,” she squeaked.

Although Carleen's face was streaked with tears and makeup, she didn't look unhappy. Her eyes moved furtively from Nikita and then to the Wolf. She was about to swoon in ecstasy of their confrontation. Carleen twisted uncomfortably from the metal of the chastity belt. But that wasn't as bad as waiting for the Wolf to decide how he was going to use her. She leaned closer to sniff his scent.

"Lay across the seat, your head on this armrest,” he said, pointing to the aisle seat. "Line your throat up, straight, like a chimney."

Carleen quickly complied and her hair fell like a curtain from the armrest. The metal band of the chastity belt stressed her red asscheeks. The Wolf had pulled out his veined member and waved it in Nikita's direction as if to say, ‘this is for you’.

As Nikita observed the drama unfolding before her, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the Wolf. 'He has no idea what he is playing with', she thought.

"Open up Carleen,” he said mockingly.

The hungry snake dancer opened her throat to take the Wolf. His body moved in a primeval rhythm while he looked at Nikita with hunger.

As she watched the girl shiver with his thrusts, Nikita was impassioned. Her hand inched, ever so slightly, under her skirt. Keeping her eyes locked on the Wolf, she slid lower, beyond his view, and dipped a finger into her warm juicy core. He was seducing her with his craving. Carelessly, she drew out her finger and licked the salty tang as the Wolf continued to see-saw.

She had felt his fire when she boarded the plane but did not want him to know. The wild spirit restrained by the coat of self protection made the Wolf vulnerable. A great reader of body language, her instincts rang true.

Both rebelling against control, they danced the rituals of power and domination.

The only thing louder than the spellbinding sound of heavy breathing was the subsonic drone of the plane.

Enter Captain Marks

Captain Marks was familiar with Carleen's antics at the hands of Nikita. It would be unusual if he did NOT observe her being used in some perverted way. This was one of the tamer situations he'd seen her in.

He was smart enough to negotiate a piece of the action for himself. At the moment he was a little confused and worried about the last minute changes in flight crew and plane adaptations. The flight crew looked forward to having Ms. Wilson as a passenger.

However he was too focused on the certain flightslut now. Tarty Carleen was a trollop with a penchant to tease until Nikita came along and flexed her pinky.

Although he tried to get into Carleen's pants for months, she turned them down flat. She made it obvious she wouldn't give him the time of day if it weren't for the fact they flew together. Every time her bouncy and behaving red hair flashed into view, he showed signs of distress. Some of her more naughty escapades were off limits to him – but he suspected her of serving the entire crew.

Finally he was about to get the redheaded treat.

The sight of the chastity belt caused him to emit a groan of disappointment. Tipping his cap to Nikita, he approached to ask her if she was enjoying the flight.

Nikita smiled moonbeams at him and assured him all was well. She'd just been given notice Carleen's services were required in the cockpit.

Pulling out the key to the chastity belt, she handed it to the Captain Marks.

"Be sure to thrash her soundly if she doesn't please you.” she laughed.

A spunk covered Carleen raised her head to see the Captain and Nikita huddled together. Needless to say, she hated the thought of having to service the two pigs in the cockpit. She was relieved to be wearing the chastity belt.

Carleen felt the Wolf's power immediately. His was heady and all consuming. She would gladly roll over and play dead if the Wolf asked her to.

Although she loved her mistress, it would be a hard choice for her to make, if she was ever allowed one, between Nikita and the Wolf.

However, now she had to regretfully separate her lips from the pumping wolfdick ...and follow obediently Captain Marks. It was her mistress' will.

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Ch

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Ch. 02

by Nikita and Wolff

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

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

This chapter was written by Wolff.

A Day at the Races

By Wolff

Was The Wolf pissed off as he watched this damnable fellow move on his territory just when his half erect cock oozed some of his precious fluid on the little slut's upturned face? Pissed off? No - he had VISIONS!

He envisioned this pilot chap in an opera-like Nazi costume and he saw...

Das Kapitan's mouth turn into an O. Wolf thinks it rude so he shoots him.

* * *

Then the pilot moved to Nikita and the Wolf had THIS vision:

When the startled Kapitan protests the misuse of flight attendant Wolf slaps his forehead in a mock surprise:

"You mean passengers are not allowed to fuck the airline's property? Well, spank me, I never thought of THAT! However, she is not your property - she only works here. Now - scat!"

* * *

And, finally, when this robber-pilot, a key in his hand, walked towards him to take away cumcovered Carleen - THIS was The Wolf's vision:

Das Kapitan looks with amazement at the action going on in front of his very eyes. Then he regains his composure, straightens up and says in his most official voice:

"Ladies and gentlemen, there is no need for a alarm, but, for your information, the dogs are OUT!"

The Wolff gives him an eye, then looks down cooly at Carleen's bobbing head and replies in the most conversational tone:

"My good man, the only dog I see is definitely IN."

"What dogs?” asks Nikita.

Das Kapitan has no time for answers as a very real baying is heard and then the first of heavy body thuds into the door. Das Kapitan runs down the aisle screaming. The Wolf whirls towards the door, this time really pissed off at the intrusion.

"Now WHAT!!!"

As the first of bloodhounds bursts through the smashed doors The Wolf rips out his plastic Derringer. His cock involuntarily jerks and starts pumping its essence in vain. His weapon cracks dryly as he pumps his only two slugs in the ugly head of the hound. It crashes and dies in a pool of sperm and blood.

The second hound appears at the door. Nikita screams and faints.

* * *

‘Heh heh,’ thought the Wolf, returning to reality, ‘talk about dog eat dog.’

He watched the little waif jump up at the Marks' mark, a line of cum still trailing from The Wolf's cock to her face. She looked at him regretfully, then fearfully at Nikita. She jumped over the seat like regular fuckbunny and was off with the Pilot.

The Wolf glanced at smiling Nikita.

‘ALL right,’ he thought. ‘The chitchat and the bounce-the-ball is over, this woman is in for some serious conversation.’

He tucked his cock in, jacking his cell phone out. He mumbled few words, listened, tucked the phone in his designer jeans, then, he decisively started towards Nikita.

(Note to sanitary inspectors: Yes, we know that TUCKING IN uncleaned cock is not a regular procedure but consider these facts: The Wolf is really agitated and he is used to have his cock cleaned by slaves, anyway.)

Nikita was still smiling as he saw the funny stranger coming right at her, growing suddenly larger, his dark shadow engulfing her. A pang of strange fear ran down her spine and on, towards her pussy. She stopped him with:

"Seems we are out of toys, Mr. Wolf."

"Indeed. I was wondering Mrs. Wilson..."

"Nikita, please."

"Of course. I was wondering, Nikita, would you join me for a day at the races? Camel races?"

At the mention of camels, another strange pang ran through Nikita. Why should she fear something so absurd as camels? Nevertheless, she threw her head back and laughed.

"Come Mr. Wolf, you will have to come up with something better. Camels? On a plane? That's pretty lame."

"Indulge me, please.” he said, offering his arm. She realized that this is it. ‘Do I?’

Gracefully sliding from her seat she slid her arm over this perfect gentleman's forearm, and she felt clutched even if they were barely touching.

* * *

They went back towards aiplane's mid compartment dividing 1st class from the sardines in the back.

As they passed by the reader - yes this means YOU - The Wolf winked. ('How's this for an in-stride dialogue? Have we broken down those long paragraphs yet?')

They went towards the stairwell. Nikita knew there were private lounges upstairs, but the Wolf took her down in the bowels of the plane. She followed, puzzled.

The lower compartment was pretty much the same and looked makeshift and unfinished.

In the shadowed corner, among steel girders, a kneeling girl was sucking a man off. Nikita couldn't care less. She was fascinated by the plain partition in the plane's belly and a half open door gaping in it.

The sounds: the soft clomp-clappipty-clomp. The camels? Impossible! There were faint voices cheering and jeering, the wind, a distant cry of the hawk. Then she felt the smells. Yes, the desert. Hot, dry, creosote, sage, burning firewood and a distinct tang of camel dung. ‘What in the world?’

She looked at The Wolf. His smile showed just in the corners of his blue eyes. He led her towards the door. She did not like being led, but, she was.

As they passed the door the desert hit her with full force. The evening's rubensque light, the dunes stretching on all sides, a few palms, the hot wind gently ruffling her hair, touching the perfect pink skin of her face, the grit of shifting sand under her feet.

The odors grew intensive, the stench of camels, the human sweat, the dung, burnt stone, there was a clay kiln and a fire in the distance, sage bush, cardamom, and was that wild poppy?

‘The sea must be close,’ she thought.

Then the Wolf chuckled and waved his hand around, shattering the illusion. Of course, it was obvious, now that she looked carefully. The walls were covered with huge crystal screens, in the corners were sprinklers, fans and a huge PA. The palms were plastic. The fire was real.

"Sheik Hasan i Sabbah is off his rocker, of course. But he is a good 'un."

In the center of this vast space a large circle of people were cheering something she could not see.

"This sheik must have ripped out the whole storage area,” thought Nikita.

She was led on as the sound system delivered another, most realistic 3d camel charge.

‘Not hoofs,’ she thought distracting herself, ‘Those are TOES. Camel toes.’

As they pushed through the throng consisting mostly of men but some women too, a cigar smoking, mustachioed little chap slid by, muttering to himself. He looked so much like *Hugo Hackenbush that she felt another pang of weirdness grab her.

Then she was completely disjointed as she spied another mustachioed, barechested guy. It was **Freddie Mercury. He was leading a leather-encased blonde bondage barbie on a short leash.

‘Am I on Candid Camera or the Twilight Zone?’

The Wolf propelled her towards the center of the shouting crowd. They burst through the first rank of the circle and she saw the camel racetrack. It was some fifteen meters in diameter, etched in the sand, marked with poles, bright flags gaily flapping in the fake wind.

Four camels were running, encouraged by the flailing whips of oil covered, bare-torsoed handlers.

Each camel had a gear of distinct color. (‘Of course they are yellow, green, blue and red, silly!’)

Crawling girls had small, stylish humps (‘Galliano?’) on their backs with waving flags bobbing above them. Fake jewel-studded reins connected the humps and shiny metal bits in their mouth. Colorful tassels hung down. Dune colored leather strips and gold chains held their humps in place. The camels' breasts were bondaged by crisscrossed, color-matched braided ropes with a huge metal rung at the base of swaying, plumped out and slightly purplish teats. Matching kneepads and short tails, obviously stuck in their assholes, completed their Galliano attire.

They wore whip marks on their glistening skin. Many of them, livid marks, crisscrossed their flanks, buttocks, bottoms.

Pressed on three sides by jeering crowd, Nikita was bewildered. Her fascination focused at sickening emptiness in her guts, emptiness needing to be filled.

The big girl, adorned in red, was passing her by, shuffling and throwing sand around, her kneepads almost torn. Whenever a whip kissed her back she would jerk, jumping forward two paces, trying to gulp air and sob at the same time.

Nikita saw her wild eyes, the flushed, tear-stained face, teeth gripping the bit, saliva flying around. As she jumped down the track, her breasts swung forward and slammed back oh her lower torso. In a flash she was past Nikita and The Wolf.

Her flag proclaimed 'Running Holes.' She was followed by 'Fast Dip, Lighting Suck and Whore of the Deserted.'

Nikita felt the crowd pressing on her, pushing her out towards the racetrack. In the heat, sounds seemed to recede and world shifted into a slow motion mirrored in lake of fuming quicksilver.

She saw The Wolf's hand gesture slowly towards the 'camels', his smile sardonic.

‘What is he ...,’ she wondered groggily. ‘Is he asking me if I like this sick spectacle? Or is he ... offering ME a place as a contestant?’

She barely managed to shake her head, returning her mesmerized gaze towards the race.

The race vanished. All she saw were disjointed snapshots, a whip kissing a heaving flank, lips trembling around the brightly steel bit, froth flying, heaving breast with a stretched out, ringed nipple, a tail wildly flailing at a reddened ass, a metal rung slapping the pumping stomach, tears and sweat glistening on the puffed cheek, a frenzied body spurred forward by the hot invitation of the whip, the crack, desperate eyes, and the voices.

The voices were no longer aimed at the race.

They were aimed at her, asking, demanding, 'Why isn't she in the race?’

She was in her own race anyway. Is her goal in sight?

‘Are you going to run forever?’

They kept mocking her, jeering, pushing her towards the unknown vortex filled with million eyes, all fixed on her. Then she became aware of just one pair of eyes. The Wolf's.

Moving around, those eyes cast around like a beacon ray in the fog, finding her, clutching her, piercing deeper, finding depths she didn't know were there.

At the same time she felt his hand moving over her hip, towards her trembling ass cheeks, clutching them as his eyes were clutching her soul. Those fingers pushed between the globes of flesh, went downward, stopping inquisitively. Fingertips tapped the message of their discovery on her burning flesh. No panties. She was uncovered, exposed and offered.

The hand suddenly receded and just grabbed her dripping sex, mercilessly squeezing.

She almost swooned but the Wolf's eyes held her; his hand on her pussy held her. He was asking something, demanding something that can never be put into words.

She nodded. He kept demanding.

Licking her dry lips she managed to whisper, "Yes."

* * *

The whirlwind of passion swept her. She was whisked through the pressing thong of sweating bodies and ogling faces. His finger (‘WAS it a finger?’) was on her secret button, her asshole, pushing her. He almost carried her out of the circle. Nikita felt like a child in his arms. Yet, she still felt her feet. She was walking. Undefined rooms and corridors whirled by.

Was she pushed through space or the space flowed through her, Nikita wondered, as she tried to size up the room she was finally led to. The words 'Fuck-drome,' flashed in her mind.

It was almost bare. Thick carpeting, enormous posted bed, huge hookah in the corner, strange contraptions of steel bars along one wall ('are those chains swaying, swinging invitingly?'), more posts, iron chairs, other things immaterial.

"Keep still, little one,” she heard. Her view was cut off by the leather blindfold tied snuggly.

He stopped touching her and just intoned, "Keep still! And not a peep. Understand?” Then, he left her.

She could not even nod. She felt a wave of anxiety sweep trough her, a forlorn feeling of being left, unwanted, and un-cuddled.

Standing there, she trembled at every sound. Soft feet, shuffling, a door being opened, a breeze on her cheek. Trying to cock her head to catch soft voices behind her. Was that a cough, a stifled laugh, a chortle?

Nikita waited, trembling.

She almost jumped when the hand touched her neck. The soft hand was not The Wolf's. It was too small, too warm. His was cool.

Fingers traveled her neck, brushed her cheek and a lock of her hair. Then they started unbuttoning her blouse. Quickly.

The blouse was pulled out her skirt, almost yanked open, offering her bare breasts. The touch of the chilly air burned her tactile skin. The blouse was removed. Then the skirt was just slid down her legs and she was helped to step out of it.

As her hands were pulled behind her back a soft voice whispered in her ear.

"Stay still, mistress.This will help."

A female voice! Faintly familiar. Her wrists were firmly held together, her arms straight, her palms in praying position. Strong fingers, ('The Wolf's?') slowly wound what seemed a long leather string around her imprisoned wrists, binding them tightly. Then she felt stiff and cool leather encasing her arms. Nikita knew it was an armbinder and she imagined it was black, unknown hands pulling it tight, pushing leather strings through silver loops, tying them.

She was left alone. Naked, except for her heels. There was only heat permeating her body, pushing from the hidden knot deep in her guts outward, through her goose bumped flesh, reaching out towards the hidden power holding her motionless. Her mind at a standstill, blinded and bound.

The wait seemed endless. Her arms were thrust out in a V spike, at an angle towards her torso. She found it increasingly difficult to stand upright as she knew she must, shoulders straight, breast outthrust, nipples hard as adamant. The dull pain in her shoulders developed into painful throbbing, counter-pointing the throb of her wet pussy and the rhythmical pangs of impassioned shame that plagued her body.

Every breath was like the grasping hands of strangers exploring her nakedness. Every sound was an order to fall on her knees, an order she loathe to follow.

Finally Nikita's sojourn in loneliness was broken as the hands touched her shoulders and slowly pushed her forward, step by stumbling step.

Nikita was seated on the edge of the bed. Her torso remained straightened, bound hands barely touching the tight silken covering. She felt warm hands spread her ankles, gently but firmly pushing them aside. Feeling the cold of the manacles grasping tightly her legs above the ankles, she heard the clasps close with finality. She didn't need to try to close her now widely opened legs.

Knowing that she was tied to a spreader bar, she found comfort in it, in its ability to hold her open without her needing to force herself to do it.

Suddenly the blindfold was loosed and removed. She found herself looking at the eager face of Carleen peering at her at the close range. Except, it was not Carleen. Not only the raven black tresses were wrong, but the smile was different, brighter, and there was something in the eyes. They were eager, full of admiration and worship, but also of amusement and even a hint of teasing. It was an eternal catch-me-if-you-can-and-then-punish-me of the Natural Born Brat.

Nikita trembled.

"Please Mistress, please...” Carleen soothed and pleaded simultaneously, holding Nikita by the shoulders.

She was bubbling over with joy and mirth diluted by dread as she cast fearful glances across her shoulder.

"Please Miss...give me a name Mistress! You must!"

The eager waif jumped up, her naked body glistening, metal cuffs at her wrist and feet casting shards of light. She ran again to Nikita, caressed her cheek and her heaving breast, moving her hands to Nikita's bald mons, and down her legs. Finally she settled into a trembling heap of the supplicating female flesh at Nikita's spread feet.

"Please Mistress, a name for me!” she repeated tearfully, yet there were no tears in sight.

"You are so beautiful and you play so beautifully!"

The bubbling urchin bent down and licked the ebony bar between Nikita's legs. She was looking at Nikita with glee, her pink tongue caressing the bar.

"Mistress you played so beautifully with me! Yes, you did! Once I took my sister's place and you were so cruel and naughty. I smarted for days!"

Finally it dawned on Nikita. This must be Carleen's twin sister. There was no other explanation. And she remembered that at least once, perhaps more, Carleen was more alive then ever, more difficult then ever. She kept cumming as she flogged slut's pussy. It must have been THIS little slut.

'A Natural Born Brat,' thought Nikita.

THIS little slut was feverishly licking Nikita's shoes. She moved on to kiss her ankles, then her shackles, and onward, up her leg, blubbering almost out of control, salivating on Nikita's calves.

"Please Miss, I'm just plain Mary. I am older! And Jane was just Jane until you christened her. Carleen, mmm, such a tasty, adequate name,” she sucked her lips in, as if sucking sweet morsel.

"Sooo beautiful and sweet, like pain. And, she is different now, the juiciest and the easiest slut on the plane! And she loves it! Please Miss, a name for me too?"

She kissed Nikita's knees and was moving up her smooth inner thigh, kissing, licking, and pawing her way towards the wet secret of Nikita's pussy.

Looking at those dark, uncontrollable tresses dancing between her thighs, ticking and teasing, Nikita felt her orgasm almost bursting the dam, flooding without being touched by hands.

"Please Mistress, name me, before The Wolf comes back. He helped me get to Sheik Hassan, but he will flay me alive if he hears me talking to you, asking for a boon ... a name for poor Mary?"

She backed up, like a hot little cobra ready to lick mercilessly and went into a dive towards Nikita's exposed pussy.

"Stop!” cracked the voice.

Mary froze. Then she slumped down in front of Nikita's fastened legs. Nikita suddenly realized that Mary only called him that, never Master or even Sir. The Wolf was at the side of the bed. He seemed angry but his eyes were dancing.

"THAT belongs to me! However, such a beseeching plea should be answered. She deserves a fitting name."

He cupped Nikita's face and looked into her eyes inquisitively and asked, "Don't you think so?"

He then pushed her face so that she was looking into the tear brimmed eyes of Mary's. The sweet slut was begging by her posture alone.

"Yes, name her Nikita,” he patted Mary her head. No, he petted her, she realized.

"You are so good at it! What will be... no, what IS the slut's real name! Do it! Name her!"

"And then we'll see about flailing impertinent brats and find out if YOU have another name..."

Nikita stared into waif's forlorn, expectant eyes and licked her lips. On the surface her mind was in a conflicting whirlwind.

But, deep inside, there was a calm spot, and out of that eye of the storm, a name floated up, "You name is..."

*******

*Hugo Hackenbush is a fictional character played by Groucho Marx in "A Day At The Races".

**Freddie Mercury is an even more fictional character played by the singer of Queen from their album of the same name, "A Day At The Races."

The exact nature of the other characters, (fictional or otherwise,) is yet to be determined. Still, it seems that Mary and Jane are completely real.

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Chapter 3

By Nikita and Wolff

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

This section was written by Nikita.

Cat And Dog

"THAT belongs to me!" said the Wolf, "However, such beseeching plea should be answered. She deserves a fitting name."

He cupped Nikita's face and looked her into the eyes inquisitively, "Don't you think?"

Pushing her face so she was looking into tear brimmed Mary's eyes, Nikita saw the sweet slut was begging by her posture alone.

"Yes, name her Nikita," he said, petting Mary on the head.

"You are so good at it!" Wolf insisted. "What IS slut's real name? Do it! Then we'll see about other flailing impertinent brats. Perhaps have another name for you."

Nikita stared into the waif's forlorn, expectant eyes, licked her lips, and said "Cat."

"Come Cat." said the Wolf, "I need washing."

He whispered something into Mary/Cat's ear and swaggered out, leaving Nikita helpless on her back, totally immobilized. Cat rushed back to Nikita and rubbed something in and around her mons. It had the faint aroma of beef.

"Be still Nikita, don't worry. Enjoy your little pet. I will be back soon," she said excitedly as she skipped out.

The patter of padded feet was so soft. It took the sound of silence for Nikita to pick up on it. A beribboned shiatsu, brown and white, leapt to lick her lips and panted gently against her face. Pleasantly surprised, she cooed to the little pet who came to keep her company. It's cold nose took a tour of her body, and stopped to sniff armpits, neck, ears, breasts, and pussy. Nikita's ears flushed from the tickling and she screamed in frustration.

"Stop. Stop it." she hissed as she twisted about.

The bed was the arena of the age old battle of cat and dog. Unable to be nice to it anymore, she barked, and it moved away from her head. The puppy trampled her breasts and accidentally scratched her nipples, adding to the pain and pleasure capsule. Finally, thanks to Cat, the mutt settled in to munch on her pretty pussy that reeked of roast beef. She was a picture of a restrained, angry, cobra, at the height of anxiety, and unable to extricate itself. Nikita writhed as the cold tongue lathered up the folds of her labia, making sure it got every last bit of salty beef flavor. Tremors flamed up her body. She hunched her pussy to chase the teasing tongue. The dog turned around to attack the steak from a different angle. Its cold tongue flicked and pressed against her hardened bud, digging into every bump and indentation. Her head whipped back and forth in delicious torture. The pup's moppy head delicately flogged her tongue thrashed gash, and kept Nikita's passion at fever pitch. No one heard her squeals.

"Yes, stop there...no come here...yes...that's a good boy...hey, where are you going?...come back." she wailed.

The puppy settled in the space between her spread thighs and propped its head on her wet mons, and looked at Nikita expectantly, occasionally licking its chops.

"Come on Fido, move off or do your job." panted Nikita as she hunched her pussy suggestively, causing the mattress to move beneath her.

A wolf whistle caused the pup to skitter off. The aroma of patchouli mixed with vanilla circled Nikita's face. Her eyes flew open to the shadow of the Wolf leaning over her head. He sniffed her just like the puppy did. He checked the spreader bar for bruising and called for Cat.

"Wash her."

Cat was prepared with a basin of warm water, soap, and a thirsty towel.

"Sir? May I speak to her while she is bathed?"

He nodded a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Cat settled in beside her on the bed and spoke animatedly, "Oooh Nikita. I will be sooo gentle with you, but if you make it hard for me, you will get it back in kind."

Glancing quickly at the Wolf, Cat gave her nipple a twist.

"Ouch..." she said under her breath, "bitch."

Cat smiled at her like a brat.

Not so angry at the tease from Cat, she settled back to enjoy until she saw the Wolf sitting nearby to enjoy her humiliation.

"Don't forget the OTHER hole." he reminded Cat, and pointed with his finger.

Nikita's eyes popped open. Cat smiled as if she ate the canary. Of course, the ass hole, Wolf's favorite orifice.

"Oooh Nikita, you will be in for a treat. He is thorough and unrelenting. You will want to die and sing when he uses you. I know," she whispered in her ear.

Nikita, was a picture of controlled passion trying to retain the smallest amount of dignity in her bondage. The Wolf knew she would never totally submit to his control and perhaps, die, trying to resist. He hoped she wouldn't.

As Cat's delicate fingers lifted the her head, the warm, soapy washcloth began it's interesting journey around planet Nikita. Frequently refreshed, it anointed all of her, right down to the spaces between her toes. The spreader bar was a difficult obstacle to work around as were the bound arms, but, Cat was good at it.

After the wet came the toweling. Gently, Cat fluffed all over Nikita's skin and left goose bumps in its wake. Warm, fragrant oils were massaged into every exposed inch of skin as well as the skin beneath the metal. Nikita was relaxed, comatose, and oblivious, as endorphins ran rampant in her brain.

The Wolf watched the tableau unfold. He thirsted for the reposing Venus and envisioned the helpless figure knotted on his cock. Unable to quell his desire any longer, the Wolf fell onto the recumbent goddess and crushed the bound woman's lips with his, muffling her cries. His tongue thrust deep in her mouth, sucked her tongue, her essence into him. She was overwhelmed with desire but fought against the wave. He ignored her resistance and continued the deep kiss until both of them were out of breath.

He slid off the bed to kneel beside his new property. As his hands roamed all over her body, touching, pinching, hefting, he caressed her nipples, making note that they would be easier to grasp if ringed.

Once he reached her honey pot, he commanded, "Look at me, Nikita."

She could not refuse. His cold, blue eyes bore holes in her soul, and for a moment, she could ride the wave of abandon. A single, cold, finger grazed her pussy lips. ,The finger was replaced with his tongue. Her eyes were locked to him as he bit her with his lips. The tender skin burned and she fussed a bit. His hand covered her mouth.

The erotic picture could have been titled, The Wolf and His Prey. He easily turned Nikita onto her stomach and pushed her knees up under her torso. He unbound her arms from behind her back and attached to the spreader bar with leather strips. The bar made it easy for him to have access to all the nooks and crannies of his new toy. She didn't struggle too hard and he took this as a sign of acceptance.

"What is it, Nikita? Not fighting? Am I being too easy on you?" he teased. "Don't get too comfortable."

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand. The cool, rough fingers traced slow circles on her ass cheeks as she heard Cat bringing something to the Wolf and quickly scampered away.

Swat! Her head snapped up to attention. He laughed as he swung the wide leather strop again and again. It whistled in the air as it connected.

Her screaming continued every time the strop connected. .

The Wolf did not lessen the intensity of the relentless stropping which left Nikita gasping. She squirmed as best she could, but could not dampen the strength of the repeated blows. Her ass was a bright red crossword puzzle going one way.

He salivated at the prospect of taming her and had worked himself up to a fever pitch, unaware that Nikita dropped off to the no pain zone. She was silent. He had pushed her too far, too fast.

"Master...please..." risked Cat.

"Cold water! Move!" he said in a controlled voice.

The spreader bar made it awkward to examine Nikita. He wanted to kick himself.

Nikita was not a waif. Surely, she'd been beaten before. Perhaps she's not been in this position.

Cat rushed in with a pitcher of water and promptly splashed Nikita's face, hovering over her like a mother hen fussing over one of her chicks.

Nikita revived, madder than a wet hen and sputtered, "You are a barbarian! No better than a dog. You moron!...you...you..."

He smiled. She's back. The little bitch is back.

"Let's begin again, shall we?" He smiled wickedly and cast her onto her knees again.

"Count, Cat."

Little Cat began to count, setting the pace for her master, "One...two...three..."

As the blows rained down on her back, she ceased her screams and focused on the blows. The Wolf was placing the marks in precise locations, decorating her body, adding balance to the painting.

Cat spoke to the Wolf with her eyes. He stopped.

The marks of angry talons burned like hot coals. Cat cooled the flames with minty salve and applied it with the gentlest touch.

"Oooo Nikita, you did so well. He is so pleased. No one has made his work so hard before," she marveled.

Nikita opened one eye in disbelief. She turned her head, it was the only assertive maneuver at her disposal.

Behind her, the Wolf was drinking water and dousing himself. His muscled body rippled as he moved and Nikita found herself looking at him in a discrete way, hair covering her eyes like a shade. He pushed her raw sensual nerve, something no one else had ever done. This admitted weakness angered her.

Wrapped in a large bath sheet, a silhouette of his body, the Wolf's image was captured like shadow on a canvas. She was mesmerized at the play of light on his mangled hair, the slopes of his face, and curve of his lips. Sensing her eyes on him, the Wolf turned to Nikita. His dick was hard. At his signal, Cat disappeared from sight. Nikita's body tensed without her ally near.

He knelt as if in prayer behind the altar of her ass. A single digit fingered her hole, the hole, the ass hole, and the invasion was not appreciated.

"Don't!" she demanded like an intolerant schoolteacher.

Uncomfortable and stiff from laying on her stomach with her arms bound behind her, and legs held open by the spreader bar, she was in no position to object. He laughed at her grousing and parted her cheeks to taste her. She hissed. The warm, wet, probing tongue of the Wolf wormed itself into her tight, pink pucker.

"No..." she said weakly.

"But I like your 'don't and no's" he mimicked.

"Please...not there."

Amused, the Wolf would not be denied. As he licked and sucked the nectar from her vortex, she flushed all the way to the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She had been breached.

He held her meaty buttocks apart and dove in to the juicy watermelon. The hungry sound of slurping reverberated against the cries of passion. Her wails were heartbreaking and chirpy at the same time. He sensed her weakened resolve. She struggled to move away from the invader, but then, she was impelled to push back, insistently, crisply, and with rhythm. He plunged and she furrowed. They moved like two trains hurtling towards each other on the same track.

The momentum had built a great heat, but the Wolf was in control. Despite her protestations, Nikita's sounds turned into mews of pleasure. Abruptly, Wolf stopped.

"Cat!"

It could have been a scene out of a Fellatio 101. Cat scampered to her place in front of the Wolf and was well versed in her duty.

She knelt with her hands behind her back, her throat was perfectly lined up with his cock. It was a position that she was as comfortable with as eating. She began her slow walk down his shaft with her tongue with practiced ease and teased his balls with staccato movements.

Nikita couldn't help but watch the mesmerizing waif, wishing it was her that was being serviced. Better yet, she would have liked to be the one who hovered around Wolf's balls, causing a little pain with his pleasure.

Tears of neglect and desire sprung spontaneously out of the corners of her eyes. The Wolf smiled to see this unexpected addition to his pleasure.

Cat had an amazing ability to hold her breath while the Wolf briefly contemplated whether or not he should cum now. The decision was made for him when he noticed Cat was almost blue. He pulled the cobra out of her throat and aimed it at the bound woman's face, temporarily blinding her eyes with the salty spurts. Cat giggled. Nikita cursed.

The Wolf watched her scowl as Cat bathed his spent cock and licked her lips in appreciation.

"Thank you Sir." she said looking at him wistfully.

"You want to cum, don't you."

Cat smiled beneath her eyelashes, "If it pleases you sir."

"Be quick about it."

Cat stretched out in front of Nikita and gave her a front row seat to the Second Coming while she squirmed in frustration. Cat gave a good show and was totally uninhibited in entertaining the Wolf with her hand play. She maintained unshakable eye contact with the Wolf until he gave her permission to orgasm.

Watching Nikita struggle between desire and self-control, he slipped his fingers inside her to coax more essence out. He placed a pale blue handkerchief under her pussy after flashing it in front of her face.

"We are going to play Wolf's game. It's good game. If you complete the task, you will have a choice of two things. If you don't complete task, you will most certainly see Mr. Strop again."

He paused. She knew he wasn't pausing for her to answer. It wasn't allowed.

"The handkerchief must be soaked with pussy juice. I will decide if it is enough. You will have fifteen minutes. Cat, get timer."

Cat had it ready.

"Start."

Synopsis: In a phantasmagorical tale of sexual slavery, a mysterious man and woman, a generic sheik, twin submissives, and eve

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys Chapter 4

By Wolff and Nikita

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

This chapeter was written by Wolff and Nikita.

Toasted Slut Sandwich

The Sandwich is Served

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

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

"Yes, Check? What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

** ** **

"Start," he said.

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

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

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

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

He grinned.

"Just call me Sheik Generic, my dear."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But all she said was, "Yes Sir."

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

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

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

"But Sir...I... mean she...."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

** ** **

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

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

** ** **

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guards left.

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

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

** ** **

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

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

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

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

** ** **

Fooka Fiika Girl

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

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

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

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

Nikita blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

** ** **

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

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

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

THEN ...

** ** **

Sandwich Toasted, Sandwich Burnt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nice appetizer! IT’S a BURN TIME!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It is OVER I said!"

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

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

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

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

Acknowledgments:

Uniforms and incidental clothing: Gautier

Leatherwear Hugo Boss of Mexico

Camel wear: Galliano

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

Nikita attire: Chicgeneric Designs

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

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

Toys: La Bomba

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

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

Special consultant for dream sequences: David Lynch

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

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

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

Fido trained by Naughty Nik

Music Angelo Badalementi and Lou Reed

Slave Hunters, Slave Preys

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