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Fan E-Mail Address: wolfendom@yahoo.com
Title of Story: The 9th Hour
Suggested Category: BDSM/Spanking
Abbreviated Keywords: M/f; Master; slave; sadism; branding; splitting; imprisonment
The 9th Hour
It was one gorgeous, sunny afternoon; the air so crisp as the first clean hints of the autumn approached. Just the sort of day that makes you want to enjoy the outdoors and soak in all the warm rays from a brilliant, blue sky. She just had to get outside and enjoy a drive with the top down on her new red convertible.
The last few months had been a studied focus on her making sure her health was primo, her body gorgeously tanned and firm. With her natural beauty and looks, she so wanted to just be outdoors to stretch her long sleek legs that seemed to never end and wear some of the sexy lil shorts and a top she just loved to tease men with. She decided..."Enough work for today, I owe it to myself to enjoy this one for what it's worth." And with that, she turned slightly in the mirror, admiring herself, and headed out the door.
Greeted with that wonderful feeling of nature, as she closed her front door and headed for the car, she squinted slightly in the bright sunlight. Taking her sunglasses down now and over her beautiful blue eyes, her gaze wandered along the tree-lined avenue, glad she chose to take the day off so much now. Her long blonde hair, now below her breasts, seemed caught up in the breeze as if nature itself was wow'd with her sexiness. She slid behind the wheel, knowing how potent she was for the looks from men, and backed out of the driveway and started down her quiet neighborhood street.
Arriving at a stop sign out toward the more bustling side of traffic, she turned right to make her way towards the beach. Slipping a favorite CD in by the Indigo Girls, it couldn't have been a better day, as she picked up the tune and began to sing along. All too soon, her mind was shaken into another world, an entirely new experience.
She was aware immediately of the motorcycle policeman behind her, having the automatic cringe to check her speed and make sure her seat belt was fastened. As quickly as she knew she was all right, the blue light on back of the bike came on with the siren, and her mouth opened as she knew he meant her. Pulling slowly over, and just down an empty side street, her mouth was dry as she was totally clueless as to what she might have done. He parked his motorcycle directly behind her, and in the rear view mirror she watched the crisp navy blue uniform, white helmet, ray-ban sunglasses, and black leather boots approach.
"Ma'am, may I see your insurance and driver's license?" She fumbled in her purse, heart racing, palms sweaty, and meekly held her identification out as she leaned over to get the insurance papers out of the glove compartment.
"Step out of the car, Ma'am and move towards the back." Breaths of shock ran into her lungs, unable to speak, lightheaded...all she could do was wrestle with the seat belt, and have cold fingers pull the handle of the door up, as she slid her legs over onto the pavement, her nipples jutting through her cotton top from absolute panic.
Glancing only briefly at this helmeted, hidden man who towered over her at least 6 inches, shoulders broad and tight under his starched uniform, she didn't feel her feet even move as she took two paces, he touched her elbow and had her face the trunk. The image of that gorgeous afternoon immediately crumbled into the darkness of that supercharged, terrified moment...nothing was noticed, except suffocating blind fear.
Facing him, he motioned with his head and black-gloved hand to turn around, face the car. He tapped her white sandals with his right boot, indicating for her to spread her legs. Touching her in the middle of her bra strap, he ordered, "Bend over; put your hands up wide on your trunk, Ma'am." Tears dropped off her cheeks and she bit her bottom lip to keep the trembling from showing. A deep sob shook her body, but she froze immediately when his large, gloved hand covered her left shoulder as his right patted just under her right arm, fingers stiffly violating the soft flesh of her right breast.
Proceeding down to her small waist, he stayed with his meaty hand over her hip, fingers curling, flexing as if he was motioning her to move back towards him. Frozen...the tears ran off her high cheekbones onto the gleaming finish of her car. His left hand now began to fondle her body, not at all businesslike as the right side of her felt; taking its time, assured she would not move. The long legs trembled as he slid his strong fingers deliberately over her nipple...lingering, making sure she felt an unmistakable pinch. She heard him grunt some approval, as if he were inspecting a side of beef. He came to her waist, and with a cupped hand firmly slaps her hip, as if he'd known her for years. Knees crackled as he began to squat; his left hand around, towards the front of her thigh, right hand juts up under her crotch like a hatchet, gloved finger smacking her pussy. The sound of well-treaded tires and a powerful engine suddenly fills her ears, and comes up behind both of them. The hot engine smell reaches her mind as the ignition is turned off, and both doors almost in unison open and close. Heavy duty police cruiser.
Energized all over again with adrenaline, shivers run up her spine as her arms begin to tremble from the drawn-out search tactics. The bike cop, pops his knees again, as he throws out a breath of frustration, and stands up. Heels click on the hot black asphalt as she's flanked now, just out of her peripheral vision with two more brooding monsters. Sensing them, her breathing stops once more. Blonde tresses cover her face from the sides.
"We have a warrant for her arrest; 'afraid she'll have to come with us down to the precinct." Breaking, the first guttural sounds escape her throat. Sobs...deep, jerking sobs.
That right, gloved hand pulls her roughly to a standing position, instep of a right boot pops her leg above the ankle to close towards the other. "Put your hands behind you, Ma'am." Breasts firm; the sweat that's formed between them is cooled as a breeze again caresses her face. Vise-like grip of a hand over left wrist draws her arm behind her...*click*...cold steel squeezes into her thin arms....*click"...right wrist quickly seized and snapped too.
Pulling her back into him, she gasped as she felt the pressure of a straining crotch touch her fingers thrusting up into her manacled hands... imperceptible, except to her...and him. Spinning her around, she's within inches of the sunglasses, still unaware of whose eyes bear into her. Such an evil grin spreads as his white teeth show the carnivore, leering at its prey. He comfortably looks down at her breasts, firm and high, and perky, and with a slow grin rotating up again, his low growl keeps her motionless and pliable.
An impersonal push of his muscled right arm moves her over to the side of the cruiser and in a few seconds, head covered with a heavy glove, she's into the back of the gleaming white police car. The smell of cigarette smoke, old and new, leather, equipment, radios...sight of the wire cage...hood of the car gleaming through the bug-spattered windshield as the three officers briefly discuss the matter. Chuckles rudely insisting her predicament is grave. She repositions herself onto the seats, away from the door. Soon tilted by the swaying of the heavy car as two giant officers again mount their positions up front, the slamming of their doors denies that the outside world exists.
Tears dropping again over the dried ones from what seems like weeks ago, she sees the brute on the right look back into her eyes and just smile, that same evil sort of grin she'd seen the predator reveal. Before she managed to find her voice and ask what this was all about the massive machine pulled out and heads down the side street with amazing acceleration. Her head lowers as she hoped she'll have some idea soon to make this all a very, very bad dream.
Blocks away, within perhaps five minutes of meandering streets off of the main drag, she recognizes the local precinct building with it's governmental cold construction. A small alleyway delivers them into a concrete courtyard surrounded by more harsh brick, and the car quickly is heeled to a stop, as the two almost immediately are out. One at her door reaches in and manhandles her to stand on the ground, the other ascends four steps to ring a doorbell/buzzer outside a stern steel-grey door. In no time flat, she is swallowed inside the maw of the precinct hive.
People, civilians, policemen, all sorts explode upon her solitude. Hardly noticing her, all within their own needs at the moment, she only glimpses ashamedly into the eyes of a few uniformed officers, as it's too apparent that her nipples are still erect and teasing under her small top. And even more provocative are those shorts barely covering her cheeks now from her sitting in the cruiser. Passing into her, as tightly as the aisle of a movie theater, her breasts are brushed, hips bumped as one strong direction continues to march her forward into the maze of hallways, doors, and offices.
A huge, black, steel-enameled door with a barred opening at face level, funnels the sounds of captives, prisoners, criminals from the other side. Looking in terror to her escort, the keys jingle, slide in and turn the large bolt. Swinging its heft wide...she looks down a hallway where arms minus bodies are moving with no apparent meaning outside of caged cells, cigarette smoke puffed into the common walk from unseen sources, and that immediate clamor and smell of too many people using a facility that's been far too neglected for cleanliness. Down the slick, glaring hall she stumbles, assured of no tripping from the giant of an officer that half-pushes, half-lifts her along with abruptness and apathy. It has been over two hours now, and she's yet to make one word understood or even said.
At the very end of the hall, as catcalls spewed putrid words of shame and humiliation at her, embarrassing her even more than she had been before. Stopping in front of a door less than three feet wide, she again is left as the keys are found that once more find rusty hinges yielding to male strength. Thrust inside, she almost slips on the condensation of the floor. "Turn around, and when I have your cuffs off, remove your clothes and give them to me through the bars." "Why???", the first word she's managed since she looked into her convertible's rear view mirror. "Do you want me to remove them far you, Ma'am?", as he reaches again to find the key to place her with him again. "No...no...please...no...I'll do it." Turning away from him, into the seemingly protective shadows in the corner, as no light enters except for what comes from the hallway. She slips her quivering fingers to the shorts, sandals, top, bra, and panties...and miserably hands them to him through the painted, chipped bars. His face still is hidden from her, as the light is behind him and only on her body and terror-filled face. "Come closer." He reaches and envelopes her right breast, squeezing cruelly, as she gasps and immediately pulls away, not even realizing her hands are now free.
The 9th Hour...Part 2
"Where do you think you're going??," leering at her predicament. A piteous mournful expression covers her face as the shock of the afternoon is now revealing its ugliness, and her complete helplessness to avoid it. "Come back here bitch, or I'll come in there and get these cuffs back on you for keeps." As if the tears shed already were not plenty, they erupted all anew as her body trembled . Gut-wrenching knots compelled her to submit to this man whom she knew had no intention of providing her safety and protection. Eyes wide, she moved toward him, her arms but a weakened appendage offering no defenses against his steely gaze, piercing her torn soul.
"Get on your fuckin' knees bitch and let me find out if you're good," as he reaches in the cell and pushes her to the cold floor. Crying without a breath being taken, she's swirled into a dreamlike place where blurs and images seem real or not...nothing appears to make sense. Until she feels the warm head of his cock pressed to her lips, as her hair is mangled into his urgent grip...and she opens her mouth slightly. Then she passes out.
Hours, days, weeks...her mind swims to the surface of the gloomy darkness from the depths where she was completely alone. Hyperventilation, shock, dread, fear...all the negatives crashing into her mind finally gave way to easing her trauma, and now she looked down on her body being covered by this man twice her size, suffocating her all over again. Her face was tossed sideways as his hand covered her mouth, and his hips unmistakably pummeled her depths with a cock thicker than she'd ever know, thrusting in and out like a beast-fucking animal. She felt nothing...seemed and literally was only a spectator watching this surreal movie of herself being raped in some dank jail-cell by a sadistic guard. Her eyes were blank, non-registering, face presented as of one who's mind was not present.
After some weeks, days, hours later she feels a huge weight being lifted off of her torso. Witnessing this brute of a beast raising off of her, panting heavily, cheap aftershave mixing with her own cold sweat, she falls back from her perch overhead in the corner of the ceiling. Into herself again, she feels the pain from his savage violation, the sickness of the ordeal. Before he's to the cell door, convulsions of bile retches out of her stomach as she lunges towards the drain in the middle of the floor. "For a pretty bitch like you, I'll have to make damn sure you know how to fuck a man proper, before I let you out of here, you dumb cunt." Matted hair, chills coursing through her, the sick taste of vomit on her lips, as her hand brushes along a torn lip, she only looks with bruised eyes in his direction to make sure the door is locked. Feeling, realizing now the enormous extent of his assault, she rolls over onto her back, looking blankly up to a distant ceiling, black and hollow. Shaking, her arms cross her breasts, as she curls into a fetal position, and wishes this horror could have some answers to ending. Sometime, much later, her eyes shut.
Hours past, she noticed the hallway lights remained on all the time, and there must have been night sometime, for sleep happened, she realized. Actually, despite being completely nude in a cold, damp jail-cell, she would have continued her restorative slumber, except for the clamor of another day where people are caged against their will. The noise outside indicated breakfast was being "served."
He came again to darken her cell door. She retreated impulsively to the back of the small enclosure. "Girl, getchur damn ass up here to getchur damn breakfast....NOW!!!" The mind strain immediately jumped into her again, as she barely realized she was edging forward once more, despite all of her senses telling her to run. But in a jail, no one runs, no one hides ... you just learn to exist...by their rules.
"I see you ain't too stupid, now," as she timidly reached for the metal tray. Just as she was touching the edge, he pulls it back. "Now, you fine piece of pussyjuice, I want what you forgot to give me yesterday. I want you to guzzle my cum down that pretty throat of your's." She lurched backwards. "Now one piece of prison garb you might like is this wool blanket I brought with me, and if you suck this long, thick cock real good, I'm gonna let you sleep tonight in comfort. You be real good to me, and I may even get you some clothes...sometime. Either way, you get on your pretty little knees right now, and suck me off nice and hard through these bars, or I'm gonna make you think yesterday was just a picnic, slutbitch." She had enough of this hell being far too real, and she held the bars as she softly put her knees down on the cold, hard floor.
Moving her hands to his pants, she pulled his zipper to its length, and gently prodded his massive cock from inside his boxer shorts. Leaping out at her like a moray eel, she felt his hand grab again into her blonde hair and roughly pull her towards him as he thrust his hips to the limits of the steel bars separating them. Without a word spoken, she began to lick the soft warm head, already evoking the clear juices from his balls. He grunted approvingly and pulled her head further down his shaft and with tongue flicking all over, she felt the massive head reach the back of her throat. The stiff rod gave her cause to gag and she almost panicked, until her mind again came to her rescue and she concentrated on relaxing her reflexes, her muscles and just breathe. Until he kept pushing down, down, down her throat even more. Squealing in protest, around this monster, she pushed against the bars, as she realized her forehead was now against the cold steel bars, and his grip was much more powerful than she could fight.
Without relief or concern, he poked his huge member into her face, more and more savage thrusting, grunting with delight. She felt her lack of oxygen quickly coming to an end, trying to snort air into her nostrils, to no avail. Practically trembling, the shaft quickly began to expand; she felt the head of his cock thicken, his balls tighten into a leathery pouch, and within seconds thick goo was spewing into her stomach. He was growling with pain, it seemed, as jolt after jolt of slick, creamy cum slickened up her insides even more as it threw itself to its limit. She managed, knowing it was almost over, to keep her throat open, take this degradation, and get air back into her tortured lungs, soon.
With a final growl of pleasure, he pulled her head back, lifting her painfully to her feet as she stumbled to keep her balance while also reaching to hold her hair, breathing once again, finally. His ego stroked, lifting her onto her tiptoes, he brings her face to the front of the bars. Mashing her cum-slickened lips and cheeks against the cold steel, the barbarian heaves a load of spit and phlegm into her eyes. Laughing he dropped her along with her breakfast, onto the floor, shoving the blanket behind them. "Fucking good bitch...eat up...you're gonna need your strength when I come back reloaded full of fresh cum this afternoon before I get off." Picking the putrid bits of food off the nasty floor gingerly, she puts the first morsels of food into her mouth in over a day, as she wishes she could wash the taste of his sperm juices away forever.
Finding some warmth in the nasty, tattered wool blanket she kept reliving how she could have had this happen to her. Gratefully, for some hours, she was alone, and relatively safe. Flashbacks suddenly blinked into her mind, as she glimpsed only token moments of something like this having happened before. A surreal movie, in scattered form, soon dissolved away.
Back into a corner of her cell, she only had the drain available to relieve her bladder, not daring to empty her bowels there. The stench from the cesspool assaulted her sense of smell, as it consumed every breath of air, almost as much as this beast who was her source for life. Thinking of his brutality, and shuddering, she suddenly froze, aware now of the sound of his shoes on the prison floor. Alerted now, she heard him coming back.
Contorting her knees up to her chin, pulling the blanket to cover her nakedness, she felt his sneering as he said, "Well, pretty fuckface, ready for your afternoon exercise?" She refused to answer him, and he opened the door, without hesitation.
"Seems like you just don't learn," as she slapped her across the face, reaching and jerking her to her feet. "But now, I got to 'do my duty,'" he laughed, "and bring you to the judge." Again, she was off-balance in her mind and body as her clothes from yesterday were thrown on the floor for her to get dressed in. "We want to make sure you look pretty, for his Honor, you know, cuntslut. Get dressed, we got places to go, people to see...and then...ha ha ha...things to do," as he gave her such an evil sideways glance.
Slipping her tired, bruised body into the skimpy outfit she meant to enjoy herself, she thought how utterly stupid she felt for ever wanting to entice any man ever. Within a minute, she was once again quickly moving down the long cold hallway of prisoners on each side, lowering her head as the catcalls of the community now had special meaning to her, as she realized their taunts knew what she'd endured at the far end, in her cell.
Through doors, the maze renewed as she traveled with her jailer/rapist along places less populated as the precinct buzz of the day before. Feeling so exposed and violated, she knew to only do as she was told, and was already conforming to the role of a sexslave, without cause or reason, except what others wanted of her. His voice hisses, "GirlFuck, you don't know this yet, but you were captured...you committed no offense. We have cops on the street who look for girls like you...fresh, gorgeous, and single. Your car was reported 'stolen,' but now it's an itty bitty crumbled lump of mashed metal, sold as scrap. No one has any idea what has become of you, and an official "missing persons bulletin" is already prepared and waiting for another two days before it can be issued...if anyone files it, that is. You, fuckflesh, have been taken into a world where we make the laws, we make the rules, and we enjoy all the power and privilege that comes with it. Now, you're going before the head man, the judge, and he's going to decide if your sorry whorepussy is worth having or not. Anyway if he wants you or not, till the day you're taken from my hall, I'll still make sure your ass and cunt are full of my cock, unless he thinks you look a little too beat up, and that you're just some cheap crack-addict off the street. Then we'll dispose of you, like we do every week, with our "animal shelter girls"...those needing to be put to sleep." Nothing could have been more accurate to finally answer her tormented mind.
Soon, the area got more "official looking" and she realized she had come up through the labyrinth of the back halls to a court, a judge's world. Entering the paneled double doors, the room was full of people, the gallery, the jury, the lawyers, the bailiff, the recorder, etc. She was ushered down to the very front, as if all these were waiting on her. Again, her mind reeled as to this impossible dream that seemed to be without end.
Left directly in front of His Honor, she dared not look except to her feet, so embarrassed and humiliated to be in such a state of disarray and shame. "Look up at me, young lady." She raised her bruised face slowly, and when she realized he was squinting at her now from understanding some of what had happened to her in the last 24 hours, she immediately felt the first sense of compassion, yet dropped her head once again, instinctively.
"No, don't do that again, young lady...I want to see beyond the surface of your wounds and see if your soul bears anything worth redeeming." She raised her swollen lips, strained eyes, and held his gaze as directed. For some minutes, nothing seemed to move, as his facade indicated nothing, his eyes absorbing all of her, barely able to tell if he moved them at all. What seemed again an indeterminate amount of time passing, she heard, "Bring her to the platform the ninth hour of this day," as his gavel smacked down resounding a silence unprotested among all the multitudes witnessing. The beast sizzled as he reached seemingly with a gentle grasp. Yet she felt as if he were trying to break her upper left arm in an ever-tightening vise that had no limit to its pressure.
Pushed toward the front doors of the courtroom, she found again what seemed to be a honeycomb of further passages. Almost pushing her ahead so fast that she stumbled, he grated, "It seems the judge thinks you're worth saving...and damn if I didn't do my best to fuck you up so bad he'd let me hide you on my hall for a few weeks, or if you were really a good fucking cuntwhore...a few months, before I'd broken you into nothing but a crazy pile of fuckflesh, a babbling idiotwhore." And with that, he shoved her into a small conference room where he pushed her over a gleaming wooden table, ringed with plush executive chairs. Without a word, she felt her shorts pulled off, panties ripped...and his massive erection shoved deliberately up her dry, tight ass. She screamed as he slapped her repeatedly, screaming at her to shut up and take it...as he pulled back out, ran it up inside her battered cunt a few deep strokes, then reinserted it to its depth back into her virgin ass. The pain was unimaginable as she passed out again, falling into a blackness of nothingness.
Looking down again, with a chandelier almost blocking the view, she saw her body being thrust into over and over. Sliding on the shiny oak table, as this monster cock, red with her bloody ass, continued to assault her, nothing but blank awareness confirmed that she was watching herself being raped again, by this animal. Nature itself protected her from feeling this torture, splitting once again to keep from going insane. Her consciousness to him would only give him reason to perpetuate the brutality, and he didn't care for her welfare in the least, just getting his evil load of snakejuice again to violate her sense of who she was as a person, before this ordeal began, only a day before.
Nothing registered...nothing. Finally, she saw him raise his ugly, skewed face up to the ceiling, not noticing her watching this depravity from her perch. Screaming his lust-filled victory roar, his cum ran up from his enormous balls along and into the serpent-like beastial shaft of his cock. He shuddered and convulsed over her back as his ass jerked spasmodically while his essence assaulted her, the one thing that seemed to have power even over his own Herculean strength. He slowed, panting again...and slid that six inch wide, ten inch long phallus out of her torn ass, streaked with a combination of white, creamy cum and fresh bright red blood. The ugly, smeared cockhead fell out, along with a discharge of mixed fluid. Pushing her back into the table, he moved off of her...still unconscious.
The vortex of nature brought her instinctively again back into her body, whirling down from the ceiling, into her body once more. She drew a deep breath as if coming out of a trancelike slumber. Hearing the sounds of the room, almost silently now, the senses returned to her immediately. Too quickly she bit her lips while screaming inside from that searing pain of her torn rectum. Eyes opening to see the far wall, she dared not look to see, for she felt him still there, knowing he was waiting for her to acknowledge his sadism. With only a growling chuckle, he grabbed her shorts and wedged them up her bottom, stemming the flow of blood and cum that now ran down the inside of her left leg. "Let's go you worthless, piece of shitmeat."
Almost feeling the darkness sweep over her eyes again, she was jerked up again to standing on her feet. She reeled as the door rushed towards her, somehow opened and she was again propelled down the hall, the direction she was in before her sidetrip to the table. Sore and in genuine pain from this depravity, she stumbled again, not given the consideration of even walking at a normally fast clip to get where they were going. Rounding a corner, she heard before she saw...the holding cell for whatever it was they kept people in there for...women...women's voices. For some reason, her soul washed in the comfort of her gender.
"Step back, ya damn fuckbitches!!," he roared. The keys did their deed, door opened and she was pushed in before the tide of cramped women swept forward again to fill the void. He was known by them, and she knew how.
Comfort, safety, sympathy, community...??? No. Death still living, for when she looked up...she immediately realized who they were. The "kennel women," the "animal shelter girls," destined to be terminated when and, even more horribly, as invasive and as deliberately cruel as such beasts who reigned here preferred. Their eyes were blank, listless. Whatever life they had before they came to be here, it had long ago been ruined forever, and instead only the unmistakable look of living death perpetuated these zombies from one minute to the next. Her next thoughts were..."Was she one of THEM??? Had the judge cruelly fooled her??? Had the creature who raped her so horribly been fucking her mind as much as he had been her destroyed body???
No one said anything as they saw themselves in her. The torn clothing, blood stained shorts, bruised and cut face, mauled arms and legs, scratched with ragged nails of animals' paws...all knew the signs. Vacant acceptance of another member of this secret world in their midst.
The 9th Hour...Part 3
The horror of her stay in the prison broke into the depths of her mind. The flashbacks of something similar having occurred seemed to be as unreal as her splitting. She realized, the more she thought of what had happened, the more it seemed real for her, in her early years. There inside that overcrowded cell full of demoralized and broken women, the past rushed back to haunt her.
She was conceived and birthed as the result of a brutal rape, and never had she known what true love was. Her mother cared nothing for her, allowing the stepfather to abuse her in any way he saw fit. But, as far as she was concerned, what she did know was real, it was true. She had no other way of gauging anything else, other than her own experience. She was extremely intelligent, far above what most "smart" people would ever know, and that one trait alone kept her surviving from a living hell where she was brutalized continuously. From even before her preteen years until she finally escaped the torturous horror at age fifteen, her life was one unspeakable assault after another, never knowing what each sick day would bring. She had been treated by several psychotherapists and without realizing until now what had occurred during those therapy sessions, she'd been hypnotized to such a degree that her real life experiences were mostly blocked out and forgotten. She was conditioned to take life in small sequences, a week, perhaps a month. But to look back and remember, was more than difficult; it was impossible, thanks to the benefits of skilled hypnotists. It took a nightmare just like she'd known as a child to wreck all the years of therapy, and bring her back to the hellacious horror she knew all too well. Totally overcome as she fell to this bleak, nasty jail-cell, she cried uncontrollably. More pitiful than this alone, she was hardly noticed by the others present.
Crumpled into a soiled, broken heap on the ever-cold chipped concrete floor, she barely looked up to see the door swing open. When she did, her heart froze, as she looked into the menacing eyes of a hooded brute. His arms were wrapped with leather cuffs, reaching to his elbows. His chest was bare, and his pants of black leather ended in shined, black boots. He was without challenge from the other women in the cell, as he reached down and lifted her to a standing position, wobbly now from so much time spent in her reclusive pose.
Slamming the door behind them, again she was ushered down endless hallways, impossible to remember. When he spoke, she recognized the voice as one of the two in the heavy police cruiser, glancing again at his eyes to confirm. He shook her, and without pause now, she lowered her eyes obediently. Just before a heavy door that seemed to be one that would lead outside, she was turned around and put roughly up against the wall. A strong hand was dipped deep into her shorts, unzipping them to allow him to cup her mound. As he leaned closer into her, enjoying her discomfort, he felt her warm juices automatically begin to flow. He smiled and continued stroking her with his fingers, two of them deep inside her, curled to rub her g-spot.
"We know of your background; of your childhood." She cringed with open mouth and began to slink down the wall. "You were selected months ago by the Judge, and now he's going to make you one of his own. We are about to enter the courtyard where you will be ultimately marked with the Judge's "official seal," and from this day forward you are to be of service to him in his harem of slaves. There is no choice of your's to make; everything is decided for you. That's why the jailer had his fun with you, for within an hour, you will be totally untouched by anyone, other than what the Judge allows. By the way...an interesting bit of trivia...the Judge purchased you from your stepfather, instructing him how to raise you...and until now, you've had no idea how your life unfolded as it has."
A sweeping wave of incredible awareness crashed over her, more intense now than anything she'd ever known. She realized that what was imprinted in her from the time she could possibly remember, was for a purpose. This purpose...to be a slave, bought and paid for long ago. Now it all, for once...made horrible sense to her, as memory upon memory of sadistic sexual torture once again became alive. She saw herself, as if she was viewing it all over again, from being split. The faceless men buying her for a few dollars or a stuffed animal, the intense sessions of bondage, pictures and videos being made, the images of her own mother masturbating while watching, the beatings... many of them on her cunt, the scars...physical and emotional...left from an overzealous fanatical idiot of what she thought was her "daddy."
All the terrible reality seemed to explode upon her now, more desperately real than any imaginations had ever led her to believe. Incredibly, a wave of orgasmic energy suddenly surged upwards from her troubled loins as she remembered all of this. Totally complicated images flashed over her, as she shook upon the shoulders of this masked assailant, clicking her memories back to times when she was so out of control and so used for others' pleasures. The brute realized her turmoiled mind, and with desperation, grabbed his thick shaft from his pants and thrust his bulging cock up into her, catching the last jolts of energy coursing through her. With only a few strokes, impaling her into the wall, his bursting load of steamy cum shot into her, as she almost immediately came again. This time, her body surrendered to what she'd always been, as far as she knew. With a negligence from years of protective therapy, once again this gorgeous fuck-toy responded as the slaveslut she was. Her moans were not of agony now, but of complete and ultimate pleasure of being used as a toy.
Just as suddenly as she was about to drop to her knees from blissful weakness, the steel door swung open and a huge glare of bright sunlight bathed the two. Her captor picked her up roughly now, by the elbow, and pushed her into the back of a cart, being hitched to a mule. Hands once again cuffed, she was linked to an O-ring at the front of the cart, as this huge, disguised man continued to rip her clothes off, using a sharp dagger for any of the soiled garments that hesitated. Totally naked again, the two began their medieval journey to a long, broad platform in the midst of dozens of howling men, on the far side of this huge area surrounded by high walls. She looked up, blinking against the harsh sunlight and spied a gallows in the middle with the unmistakable 'X' of a St. Andrews Cross in front of it. The arm of the gallows extended in front of the cross, and a long link of shiny, thick chain dangled from the rotating snap above. Despite the jeering crowd, who pressed against the cart to run rough hands along her firm legs, she saw at one end of the platform a burning cauldron with handles of iron pointing into the middle. She recognized the Judge in white flowing robes just then, as he looked up and held her in his gaze.
Her eyes never left his, as she felt some sense of closure in the awful wandering years of her youth. She drank him in, knowing that for once, she understood some of the questions that never were allowed to be asked. And her eyes were still on him, when she heard his voice reverberate over the mob. "This one has been chosen by me from the time she was born. I have waited until now to claim her, and she is surely mine to have from this moment on, as the ninth hour is about to strike. Until that exact moment of time, I will have her prepared for my personal touch, by using this chain. Much like a Japanese style of Wooden Pony, this chain will stay attached to the strong arm of the gallows above. It will pass under her invitingly firm ass and gorgeous pussy to be linked in a very tight enclosure, as it circles her tiny waist in a most sadistically pleasing "thong." She will then be lifted off of her straining legs and toes so that her entire weight will be focused on her most tender of feminine charms. Her balance will be maintained by her handcuffs passing around the chain, and over her head. We have thirty minutes until three p.m., the ninth hour, and until that time comes...our delightful young slave will entertain us with her pelvic gyrations as the steel links will assault her like no hardened knuckles could ever achieve. Gather 'round and wager your bets as to when she will first scream in agony, and when she will indeed pass out. The winners of each are allowed a full forty-eight hours with her, as my guests, in my personal dungeon."
With that, she was taken off of the cart, turned to face the crowd, as her arms were held aloft, chain sent down and in between her cuffs and her back. A twinge of pleasure almost creased her mind, as she not only looked fully into the eyes of her new Master, but also knowing that she was finally about to be the person she was intended to be for so many years. Yes, she was indeed reacting to this with a degree of pleasure.
The cold links were pulled tightly by her hooded escort, under her ass and spreading her pussy lips. He held it at her navel, then circled it around her tiny waist, fully to come around in front of her again. Looping it on the links he originally held, he pulled it tightly again, back on itself, to form an exquisitely tight knot of chain that bit into her warm flesh from every direction. The chain was ratcheted up slightly, bringing her to the tips of her toes, then off the platform, so that her weight naturally went forward. She felt the intenseness of the pressure totally on that one point of her wet pussy. Her arms kept her aligned vertically, but the incredible pain shot through her like electricity, as her eyes quickly shut out all sight as the searing pain almost choked the very breath from her lungs.
Squirming immediately, she found there was no comfort from this insidiously sadistic torture device. The only intention was for her to entertain these men with her gorgeous body being used for such cruel pleasures. Soon, she was "riding the pony," as her reflexive attempts to find some comfort eluded her. The thick links of chain only rolled over a bit perhaps, to reveal the same terrible force as her body weight made its own demands on her softened, tenderized cunt. So cruelly passive in nature, it was perhaps the most sadistic pain she'd ever imagined. Before dozens of men, now, she was enduring it...hurting so badly that tears began to dampen the hot wooden beams below her. Finally, she could bear it no longer and screams of absolute hysteria broke over the usual, heaving hum of these gathered sadists.
Again, and again, she screamed...begging for some relief...for some attitude of comfort. Crying uncontrollably now, between the shrieks of maddening torture, she felt the roughness of her head pulled back, as her white-blonde hair was jerked upward and back by the Judge. Into his eyes she saw her life possessed, as his smiling face indicated his pleasure at sadistic tortures.
"You have done only ten minutes, my dear, and you have another twenty to go. Have you given up on my wishes so soon?" She could only nod slightly, and through parched lips, croak, "Please, sir." "Very well then, for I am a considerate Master of my slaves; I will let you decide now whether you will want to endure another twenty minutes of this entertainment for my guests or enjoy a very special gesture of my 'ownership' of you."
"All of my personal slaves have one special identifying mark that is permanently sealed into their bodies at the moment of my taking them into my harem. You saw the cauldron with the irons inside them, I believe, when you were headed this way in your cart. Those irons have my special seal of approval fashioned onto them...an emblem that many would call a "brand," and I prefer to call a "Monogram." You have another twenty minutes to endure "The Thong," as I like to refer to my little chain ordeal. If you can last, and not make one sound, then you are spared from the branding for a month. At that time, another test of your resolve will be offered you, unless you choose to have the brand placed on you, which it inevitably will anyway."
He turned her tear-streaked chin upward, while she was still squirming uncontrollably now. The judge slowly licked her salty cheek, and asked her, "More of this torture, my sweet, or do you want to go ahead and take advantage of the numbness your cunt already has long since passed?" She could only squeeze a piteous, "Please, Sir," out of her enflamed soul. He countered, "The Thong?" "No, Sir"...she clenched her teeth..."the Monogram...please, Sir."
"Ah," as he drug her head up for all to see the intensity of pain on her gorgeous face, "she has chosen to have the branding done, instead of more fun with The Thong. Let's take her down from this nasty contraption and make ready for some sizzling entertainment, shall we?"
The hooded escort dropped her quickly to her feet, and as wobbly as ever, made sure she didn't fall to the boards below. Hastily rearranging her arms to be opened onto the cross behind her, she was soon spread into an "X" with all of her charms visible to these men below. The cauldron was rolled over, heavily creaking the weathered wooden platform, as carefully, the irons were kept from jostling loose from the white hot core. A choke chain was passed over her head, and down upon her soft, white neck as a leather strap was wrapped around her forehead and snugly tightened to keep her head absolutely still. The hooded monster was behind her, making sure the choke collar was so effective. She felt her blood vessels swell in her neck as she found her air strangled. Gasping with panic all over again, she looked down to see the judge choosing one of the irons.
Another hooded guard placed thick leather gloves on the handle and raised it up for her to see. In an oval shape, she could make out the letters "PW" backwards. The man then turned to show the throng how incredibly hot it was by spitting on it to reveal an instant curling of steam skyward. With a grin under his mask, and the Judge beside him, he turned towards the girl, now moving to get away as her last gasps of ragged breath warn of her impending blackout. She slumped as again the murky darkness covered her eyes. As her waist is caught up in the wide leather belt that will insure she can't move, the branding iron is positioned, its heat radiating already into her.
The Judge, knowing all is set, and his slave won't object physically now, gives the nod. Just above her pubic bone, amongst the softness of her downy hair, a red-hot piece of steel is placed at a depth of a quarter of an inch...sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssizzling into her virginal skin. Left there for 15 seconds, it burned a permanent fixture into what was a totally unblemished part of her beautiful skin.
Forever now, she'll be labeled as a "Police Whore," a "PW" kept in the buildings there, or the Judge's estate, as he chooses. However, now her life does make sense, and she knows what she was groomed for...knowing all along that this is her fate, she embraces each day with a peace she's never known before. In time, the wound heals into a symmetrical diagram of her status.
WolfenDom Copyright '99
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