Part Eight Chapter Thirty-Five – The Master Plan
Master John was determined to make sure we never got too bored or complacent. The return of Master Lucas seemed to have raised his spirits too. The next day he took turns at driving the sulky, though he stuck to walking speed.
For her part, Mistress had him remove the dolly wheel and support from the sulky, which did at least reduce the weight we had to pull. Tough plastic protectors were laced onto our faces. These were like hockey masks with plenty of padding underneath. They were sweaty and horrible to wear in the hot weather. Summer seemed to be going on forever; after getting burned at first we all had deep tans on our exposed skin but the sun still seemed to be our enemy most of the time.
With the training wheel removed and our new protection added, we were allowed to run properly pulling the sulky for the first time. Even though we were not fast runners by any means, this was still a frightening but exhilarating experience. Even with the new protection, we knew very well how much a crash at running speed would be dangerous, so there was a considerable thrill involved in not crashing.
Nobody made a mistake and so Sarah treated us with grapes that Master Lucas had brought with him. Once a week Master John would drive to fetch supplies in his ute, but he rarely bought anything that could be used as a treat for us. I don’t think it even occurred to him to bother. I imagine Master Lucas had not intended the grapes that way either, but he had more of a taste for fruit than Master John.
We were standing there in the pen, inches away from our owners with only the wire between us. Mistress Sarah was feeding us the grapes and not paying much attention to Master Lucas as he walked up to Master John.
“How did that go? With the new equipment?”
“They’ve done so well, I think they should be rewarded. Don’t you Lucas?” Master John said.
“What do you mean Johnno?”
“I want you to pierce my girls’ tits like you did yours, and do the pussy too.”
“If we pierce your girls’ labia, we’ll have to do Suki,” Master Lucas said. He didn’t sound completely happy about the idea.
“I don’t see why, but that’s your business. You know it will make them worth more money in the long run.”
“My business? Right… So I don’t have to help you do it.”
“Come on mate, it’s not like you’ve gone soft like Miss Honeybuns there? Besides, it’s not exactly fucking rocket science. I’d do it myself. I’m just asking you because you’d give me a load of grief if I messed it up and asked you to fix it.”
“You can be a prick sometimes Johnno. What’s with this bullshit attitude from you? I never even said I wouldn’t do it. You know they’re going to be out of commission for a while afterwards? It’s going to cut into the training big time.”
“How long?”
“A week of rest and only light exercise for a couple more. You do a thing like this, sometimes the girl will throw up for three days straight. Never can tell with all the nerve endings around there.”
“Well. If we’re having a break, let’s go the whole hog and brand the bitches. Marcus is into that Gorean shit eh? Put some of them kajira marks on ‘em… He can’t say no to that.”
“I have no fucking clue how to do that safely Johnno. If you’re going to do that to your girls, you’re on your own with it.”
“Oh, I should think it’s bloody easy, just don’t press too long. Won’t be the first burn I’ve handed out. Nothing to it.”
“Nothing? You’re joking aren’t you? Branding?” Mistress Sarah said. Her voice sounded odd, like it was cracking.
“Fuck no. If these bitches are going to be laid up for weeks having a cushy holiday, then the least they can do is get properly marked up right? If we can’t use them why not make the most of it?”
“Why do it at all? It will ruin their bodies permanently, interrupt their training and they still won’t be completely healed come the winter. How do they feel about this? They’ll be the ones that still have your stupid fucking mark years after you’ve finished drinking yourself to death or whatever it is you have planned once you’ve got rich off this abattoir.”
“Fuck you bitch. I am selling these girls, either to that psycho cunt Dehlia, or to some other rich dick-head that wants a piece of Marcus’ new scene. You have a problem with how that works, take it up with your boss. He’s the one setting up the market. Some of us are just poor fucks who have to do what we can. I didn’t hear you or Lucas whining when I was pimping out your other girls, or when I put in six months of hard graft building this shit hole while all you had to do was lie in bed and have your pussy licked clean. Fucking rich kids… You change your ethics like a slut changes her outfits. You think I can afford the luxury of that?”
Mistress Sarah didn’t answer. She turned away quickly and made for the house. At first she was walking and then she was running. The masters seemed indifferent to her, just as they seemed oblivious to the four girls pressed against the wire desperate to know what their futures would be.
“What crawled up her ass?” Master John said.
“I think our Sarah is getting a dangerous amount of empathy. Might be best if she took a break.”
“Thought she needed to be here for the Dehlia thing?”
“She can come back when the girls are healed up a bit.”
“Or she could be hanging from the beam in my room the whole time. Wouldn’t mind getting me some of that.”
“No Johnno. You have no idea. Sooner or later she would get free and if she didn’t kill you after that Marcus would. He might turn a blind eye if I punish her a bit, maybe even a lot, but if she disappears, shit will hit the fan and it will fly right at us.”
“Fuck it. Cunt was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and she tells me how to run my life, how to treat my possessions. She needs to learn her place.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll sort her out.”
“So, your boss is really into all these rules and shit? He’s shipping slaves around the world and then talking crap about consent. You know that’s bollocks right?”
“Marcus likes to talk up the responsibility of ownership. Maybe it’s just his way of justifying that it’s ok to run this business. Maybe not… He isn’t a guy you mess around with. I spent a couple of years with him in England. He’s a bloke you can trust. I don’t buy into all of his philosophy but I respect his conviction. If you want to play this game now you have to be in with the Association. The next few years, anyone that isn’t part of a powerful faction will be fucked. I’d take him over the rest of them any day of the week.”
“Yeah, but Sarah?”
“Sarah really bought into Marcus’ bullshit. He has a way of doing that to women. It’s like a religion or something. Still… Better than her lot.”
“Dehlia? What’s with her anyway? What’s the big deal with her? A cunt is a cunt right? Why doesn’t Marcus just put her in her place?”
Lucas paused. The blood seemed to have drained from his face.
“I thought you knew this Johnno. Marcus runs a society with some rules to keep things in check. Dehlia runs a cult. It’s like the moonies, but worse. When she has her hooks into somebody they never leave and they don’t talk about what goes on inside, they just get weirder and weirder.”
“So, big deal right? What’s one more basket of nuts?”
“Could be they’re both into the same things when you get down to it, but they’ll never agree on the details. That’s not why Marcus will go to any lengths to stop her though.”
“You saying it’s personal?”
“Exactly. They used to be close way back, but she betrayed him somehow and once it was daggers drawn Dehlia kicked it up a notch and took someone related to Marcus into her cult. I heard it was his son or his nephew or something, if that’s true, I can see it might get under his skin.”
“Marcus has a son?”
“I’m not saying that… Probably nephew is the true story. Regardless, he didn’t take kindly to Dehlia exposing his blood relation to her freaky cult.”
“I’d just have shot the cunt. Why bother with all this?”
“Oh, he did shoot her. I guess he didn’t do it right because she’s still around. I don’t think he’ll get another chance at that for a while.”
“All sounds like bullshit to me mate. I bet the two of them used to fuck and he got bored of her, everything after that is just her getting back at him for being dumped.”
Master Lucas shook his head as if this was something funny but unbelievable.
“You could be right. Whatever the reason, if Dehlia is out of it then Marcus will be able to control the slave business world-wide. I’ll be his agent in Australia and you’ll be up to run the recruitment and training side. You’ll be a bloody multi-millionaire five years from now.”
“So you say. I dunno if I’m cut out for it. And something that don’t make sense to me … won’t Dehlia drop us all in the shit if the cops get hold of her?”
“Maybe, but she’s going to suicide in custody, so that won’t be a problem. She’ll be arrested in England. All they’ll have to follow is the paper trail.”
“That sounds risky. What if something goes tits-up with your plan?”
“It won’t. Marcus is connected with the police in England. All he needs is a pretext.”
“Right then, I’ll take your word for it. Don’t know why I’m standing out here in the sun when I could be in the shade drinking a cold one.”
“Waiting for Sarah to cool down. That’s why.”
“Oh Yeah. Thought you were going to put her in her back in her box?”
“Only if I have to.”
Chapter Thirty-Six – Do Sharks Dream of Biting?
That night Master John chained our collars together and brought all of us inside the house, but we weren’t stripped and cleaned as usual. All four of us were hooked to the kitchen wall by rings on the back of our corsets. With the strict posture collars and restricted vision from the hoods, all we could see of each other was our hooves.
The only sound was an occasional nervous shuffling. Master left us alone without offering a word of explanation as to what was going on. He had no need to explain himself to the likes of us, but I had thought he might be inclined to gloat or take some pleasure in trying to frighten us. Even if I collapsed unconscious I would simply hang there immobile. It was always depressing to be rendered completely helpless by something as simple as a metal clip attached to the wall.
After the weeks of tedious pony life almost anything seemed like a welcome diversion. I had a good idea what would be done to me and that it would hurt a lot, but the other girls would be getting their nipple piercings, and mine were already done, so I would be suffering less than them.
Mistress Sarah and Master Lucas entered the room. Master Lucas unchained me from the others and unhooked me from the wall. He hooked a leash to my collar ring and led me into a part of the house I hadn’t seen before. The other girls remained with Mistress. Rough wooden stairs led down into a dusty, cobwebbed cellar. The only light came from a single dim low-voltage bulb. My skin began to goose-bump in the comparative cool. Master Lucas flicked some switches, and more little lights came on, fully illuminating the room.
It had to be Master John’s dungeon: the wooden boards of the walls and floor were covered in thick, transparent plastic sheeting. It had the look of a place where bodies were cut up for disposal. There were numerous heavy gauge d-rings on the floor, walls and ceiling and some metal storage shelves held an assortment of bondage paraphernalia. A large box of ropes looked as if it hadn’t been used in a while and the room smelled strongly of rope – which was better than some of the things it might have smelled of.
Tucked away in a corner was a ridiculously small cage made of thick metal bars. It seemed to have been crudely welded together with obvious seams, bodged over with a thick coat of rippled black paint. It was made all the more ominous by the attachment of various extra parts to it, allowing three different dildo-shaped metal ‘spikes’ to be inserted through the bars and their positions adjusted.
I’d seen enough to guess exactly how this cage was used. I imagined the poor victim squashed up inside it, no room to move a muscle, her mouth and other orifices deeply impaled by hard bruising metal. I wondered if Monica had spent time in there, or perhaps Master John had put her in charge of subjecting Keiko and Noriko to its tender mercies. I did not doubt that a few hours in there would quickly make any girl eager to please.
Master ran a chain through one of the d-rings on the ceiling and connected one end to one of the rings in the back of my corset. He took the slack out of it and ran the other end through a d-ring on the floor, which he secured with a piece of metal rod with one end bent over that he pushed through one of the chain links. Where I was standing, I had a good view of a small black metal ‘pot belly’ stove, with a chimney that vanished up into the ceiling. Master opened it up and started building a fire inside.
“Don’t be afraid. I didn’t bring you down here to punish you. You may speak if you want to, you have permission.”
I couldn’t imagine what he thought I might have to say to him.
“Thank you Master.”
He lit the fire in the stove and pushed the door closed before walking back over to me. He put his finger to my lips. Did he mean for me to be silent again?
“I think I made a mistake. I should have told you the truth at the start. It’s too late for that now. I wish I could say more, but Dehlia has a knack of finding things out from people even if they don’t tell her. It’s safer for all of us if you don’t know everything.”
I couldn’t make any sense of his cryptic remarks. It was as if I heard the words but they didn’t make any sense. Had I already lost any sense of language? That had to be impossible: he was just being obscure.
“I’m sure you’ve overheard parts of the plan already. I never made much effort to hide it from you. I suppose that unconsciously I wanted you to know and understand what this was all about.” He paused, and then began to unbuckle my hood. “After all that has been done to you, is Mei still in there? Is there anything left of her at all?”
“No Master. There is only Suki.”
It was as if I’d slapped him. It took him a moment to recover and then he continued removing the hood, unlacing the remaining fastenings and pulling it off my head. Underneath my hair had been shaved off completely with clippers; apart from a little stubble I was completely bald. It didn’t worry me that I must look awful because I had always looked awful. I was the dirt in the treads of his shoe. It would be a privilege for me to be used as his fuck receptacle, if he chose to do so, though I did not think he would.
“Sarah has done a good job. We put on a charade for you, pretended our meeting was chance, but she was sent specially from England for this job by Marcus. She learned to mess with people’s heads from Dehlia. I suppose that’s why he doesn’t really trust her. Nobody gets away from that witch, but Sarah did. It’s suspicious. I’ve had to be very careful to make sure she never had a chance to contact her. Anyway, you must never speak of this.”
He pressed his palm against my cheek. I could feel his warmth. I didn’t know what he wanted from me. I looked at him blankly, waiting for an order. He seemed to be trying to explain something but I couldn’t make sense of it. He turned away, as if he could no longer stand to look at my wretched face.
“So, yes, that’s it, you will be offered for sale to Dehlia the witch, and the history of physical and mental abuse written so clearly on you will make it impossible for her to resist rescuing you. She will try to import you into England, one way or another, and when she does you will be rescued by customs or the police. You were reported missing months ago. I’ve made quite a performance of searching for you since. I’ve engaged investigators. I’ve written letters to newspapers. I’ve even been on television. You’ve become famous as a missing person. There’s a house in the suburbs where everyone believes we lived together in happiness as only young newly-weds can. There’s a wardrobe there where your old clothes still hang unused. I had to be very careful about visiting the apartment where we kept you.”
What was he trying to say? Perhaps he would allow me to ask.
“Master, I don’t understand why you are telling me this. Please, let me serve you the way I am trained. Your words are confusing. I don’t understand what you want me to do.”
“Sorry. Of course you don’t understand. You are what you are now. Let me make it plain. I gave up the wife I loved. I watched her be destroyed before my eyes. I set the destruction in motion and I took part in it… Even though the pain of it ate out my heart. I did everything in my power to ruin you so that Dehlia would be unable to resist the bait despite her understanding of the trap. I made those sacrifices… I forced you to make that sacrifice against your will… So that the horror of Dehlia might be brought to light, so that people might wake up to what is happening bit by bit in the shadows of the world.”
“I understand what I am to do, but why? Why Master? Why must she be brought down? Why must it be me that pays the price of it?”
“Why you? Because you can. How many girls could survive what was done to you and keep on going?”
“Anyone can do it Master. I am worthless. I am the lowest of the slaves. Monica has borne far more than I, Noriko and Keiko too, and I they are not special people. We do what we must because masters are strong and they make us obey. We are weak so we do as we’re told.”
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. In any event, Marcus gave me the choice. Once he knew I was getting married he conceived this plan. He understood that we would present just the right image in the media. He knew that we would create the necessary impression. The public outcry against Dehlia will be impossible for the authorities to ignore. I could have refused. Perhaps… Perhaps I should have asked you if you would choose to do this, but it would have been so difficult to explain. I can’t even explain it now. You would have thought I’d gone mad and I would have lost you.”
“I don’t understand Master. What could she be to require such a cruel plan? Is she literally a witch?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You will see for yourself before this is over. When you see you will know the suffering was worth it. You will believe as we do that she must be stopped. I know this because I believe that deep inside you understand things more clearly than anyone. When this is over you’ll be a hero for humanity. You will be free to do as you please. I’ll gladly accept any retribution against me that you wish for, you have earned that right. I accept this because I believe in my heart that any sacrifice is justified if it lets the world see what she is. I wish that other people could have borne this burden, but knowing what I know I couldn’t deny this opportunity and continue to live with myself… Not if there was a reasonable chance of its success, and I believe there is.”
“Master, if Dehlia owns me she will not need any special skill to find out anything from me. I cannot keep the smallest secret from my owner … Shouldn’t you have kept all this completely secret from me? I still don’t understand why I must know.”
“You must know because at the end your story has to fit. Dehlia will see the trap but she is so arrogant she will walk into it anyway. You have to be able to explain how she snatched you from our house in the first week before you had a chance to walk around the neighbourhood. We just stayed in and enjoyed ourselves. I went out to buy champagne. Dehlia’s thugs burst into the house and bound you hand and foot, stuffed you into a bag and carried you out into their van. From there you were taken to a secret location in the city. You know well the apartment where you stayed. All you have to do is replace Sarah’s name with Dehlia’s in your story and replace me with her thug Tate and a succession of customers that he brought to fuck you.”
“But Master, you took me out to that party. People saw me with you.”
“When that story is retold nobody will remember me. Tate will be the one who took you there. I don’t completely understand it myself, but Marcus says it has been arranged. A few of the witnesses I influenced myself, the others will be dealt with by Marcus’ employees. I don’t need to know who they are. Monica’s testimony will be word perfect. In return her family will be safe from Johnno’s threats.”
“If I do this for Master, then Monica will go free?”
“Yes. Of course. The other girls too. You will all be free.”
“We are all just sluts Master. We were born to be slaves. We’re not fit for a normal life. Please don’t waste your precious time on me. If I am here to be branded and pierced, please do it quickly if you wish to be kind.”
“I won’t do those things unless you agree. It would be best for the plan if I do them, but it’s not essential. I think we could do without that now.”
“I must do whatever Master thinks is best. Please put your mark on me. It will make Suki so happy if Master does that to her himself. Your slut will be smiling through her screams, I promise Master.”
Master Lucas turned away from me then. I was horrified. I knew I had said too much. I was such a stupid slut. I shouldn’t have made him angry. I should have said nothing: a slut should be seen and not heard unless it’s her screams of pain or orgasm that are music to a Master’s ears.
He staggered over to the corner as if he had been hurt. A coughing retching noise came from him and he threw up. The puddle was spreading across the plastic floor. I could smell the vomit. It made me feel sick too.
Chapter Thirty-Seven – Climax Denied
“You’re sure that you want this?” Master Lucas said.
I could feel the heat radiating from the brand even though it was several inches away. It must have been very hot.
“I have no wants. I desire only what my Master wishes,” I answered.
I screamed and despite my best efforts I thrashed around and tried to pull away. It was fortunate that Master had secured me well. Locked in the cage, I could barely move at all. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the pain of the branding or the pain of the six barbells piercing my pussy lips. There were three piercings on each side. My clit had not been pierced, though it seemed inevitable that it would happen eventually.
By the time I was released from the cage I was certain the pain of the burn from the brand was probably one of the worst things I had ever felt, if not the worst. I was in debilitating agony and it did not stop or fade in any way. Master had given me pills to reduce the pain but it was too great to be made tolerable by any ordinary painkiller.
It took days for the pain to recede to manageable levels. I spent the time in a feverish nightmare. Afterwards, everything that Master Lucas had told me seemed to be no more than a crazed part of the fever dream. It was quite impossible that Master Lucas had said such odd things. He had barely spoken to me since the beginning of my new life and the mere idea that he had so much to say to someone as meaningless or worthless as myself was absurd enough without even considering the topics covered. It was no more than a tragic fantasy. I had imagined myself more important than I really was. I did my best to erase it from my mind as thinking of it would only make me miserable.
We spent the next few weeks in the house. It was strange to be inside most of the time. We went out for walks around the track. Our hands were cuffed behind us but that was the only restraint.
Mistress Sarah had gone. I imagined it was likely she would return to resume our training once we were well enough. The branding was an extreme shock to the system but the burns weren’t extensive or even that deep, they just hurt. Mine was pretty much healed up beneath the scabs. There would be scar of course, but that was the point. Monica had not fared so well, and her brand seemed to have become infected. I was glad that Master Lucas had done mine and not Master John. It seemed that in Monica’s case he had overdone it a little and Master Lucas had complained that it might impair her running ability, assuming she didn’t die from blood poisoning or some other complication.
I wondered idly how I would resume my training if Monica did not begin to recover soon. Master Lucas drove away one morning. I wondered if he had gone to get more medicine for her.
When he returned two days later, Mistress Sarah was with him and Monica was worse.
“Dehlia is coming early,” Master Lucas said.
“What the fuck?” Master John said in his usual style.
“She will be here tomorrow, so I brought Sarah back. We’ll resume training immediately. Monica will just have to sit it out and Suki will have to work solo.”
“Isn’t this totally fucked then?”
“No. She’s just coming to look at our set up. She is supposed to come back again once the girls are ready. We could still make the sale then, but… She might buy them now anyway. As things are they should push enough of her buttons to make her want to get them out of our hands right away.”
“I better not be out of pocket.”
“You’re the one who messed up your girl Johnno.”
“She’s not messed up. You just need to give her the right pills doctor boy.”
“If she doesn’t improve soon you’re going to have to toss-up between taking her to hospital or digging her a grave.”
Mistress Sarah remained silent throughout. She seemed awkward and unsettled. She didn’t want to be there. I wondered what was making her so uncomfortable. She’d dealt with other bad situations before, what was different this time? Was she really so upset about Monica, or was it something else? Perhaps it was something to do with the much talked about arrival of Dehlia. I supposed that I should probably think of her as Mistress Dehlia to be on the safe side.
* * * * *Mistress Dehlia arrived as predicted, in the late afternoon of the next day. She came in a convoy of three big cars – I think they were Range Rovers – and there were several people with her.
Mistress Dehlia herself was dressed in a beautiful gown of thin black wool that clung to her curvaceous body like a second skin. A black wool scarf of the same delicate cashmere was wrapped around her face, hiding everything but her eyes. Her hair was incredibly long and black, hanging down almost to her feet. She kept it tied back with another scarf, this time of red silk. Her hair made her look like a character from a historical movie or a comic. Unreal was the word that best described her overall.
I could see how a mystique had built up around her, because there was something powerful but intangible that set her apart from other people.
Mistress Dehlia’s bodyguard was a lean and powerful looking man with long blonde hair. He spoke very rarely, but when he did it was with a strong German accent. As well as the bodyguard there was a woman in an odd looking nurse’s uniform made entirely of polished latex; a man and a woman that apart from their genders looked like identical twins; Tate who had been mentioned on several occasions by both Master’s Lucas and John; a tall, lean looking man with glasses and no hair; and three men who looked like they had spent a long time in the army. The latter three were the drivers and I wondered if they were Australian at first, but they soon dispelled this by speaking with very British accents.
Apart from Monica, we were back in our pony gear, and back in the pen. I imagined Monica was still in the house, but for all I knew they had sent her away to hospital or buried her as previously discussed.
Sarah showed us off to Dehlia and talked about our training, and how it was progressing. Masters John and Lucas stood a few meters back, watching the group. Dehlia said little, instead the bald man with the glasses did all the talking. Apparently, his name was Sam, or at least Sarah referred to him as such. Sarah and Lucas seemed to be more nervous of Sam than they were of Dehlia and I had a good eye for such things by then.
“So, these are simply pain-sluts you have hastily pressed into service as ponies? They clearly have no enthusiasm for the role and are physically not the most obvious candidates,” Master Sam said. “What’s the point of it? How can you even train them properly if one of them is sick?”
“That is not entirely the situation. Many months were spent preparing them for this role, and they have had three months of intensive and completely immersive pony training already. After the branding we were forced to interrupt their instruction, but we anticipate that when we continue they will perform eagerly, fully aware of the fate that awaits failed ponies.”
“I suppose if you believe in terror as a motivator that’s a good plan.” He gestured to the farm. “The buildings here are coarse but functional, but there is only capacity here for six trainees at most. Do you have plans for expansion?”
“Yes. This is just the start. We plan to set aside this pen for advanced training subjects and build a new larger stable closer to the house. A second, larger track will be added that encloses the existing one, and there will be a dedicated lunging area. If we have a need to expand beyond that then we’ll probably build a new facility in South Australia where land is cheaper and there are less people. Though this is isolated by English standards, it is still close to Sydney and there is a risk of aerial photography or helicopter flyovers. We have arrangements with the usual agencies to stop that, but we still need to be cautious.”
“Clearly, nobody in the Association could manage any kind of outdoor facility on this scale in England. The idea of a single large scale pony ranch somewhere in a remote part of Australia is far more logical than this small set up. The purpose of this visit is to explore that possibility rather than make an arrangement for regular supply. Still, such an endeavour would need local experts to make it possible. You understand?”
“I think I do. Of course you must come and see how we have progressed when you return here in winter. I think you will have more confidence that we can produce a good pony that… We intend to produce ponies suitable for sale to non-experts that will allow them to compete on a reasonable footing and treat them in accordance with the ethical expectations of the Association.”
Sam seemed to freeze up, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching.
“The ethical expectations of the Association? Fuck it! I can’t do this any longer,” he growled. “Don’t worry, I won’t be returning here. I despise this entire enterprise. I’m here as a favour to Dehlia, no more. No doubt she will find somebody else to do the talking for her next time.” He snapped around to look accusingly at Mistress Dehlia. “Won’t you?”
He raised his hand, pointing at Dehlia. All of Dehlia’s party except Dehlia and the twins flinched. I got a whiff of an odd smell, like a car burning out its clutch, but it was gone as swiftly as it manifested.
Dehlia shrugged. She seemed quite indifferent to the whole affair, though I felt her gaze upon me more than once. Her eyes were pretty, though I tried not to look at them much in case she noticed my attention. She had a voluptuous softness about her – though she still seemed thin – and it was there in her eyes too. It was the first time that the English phrase ‘bedroom eyes’ really made sense to me.
It seemed the indifference was too much for Master Sam, who exploded without warning. I could see why people were nervous around him.
“Fuck it Dee! This is real slavery on an ever greater scale. You said you wanted to stop this but you are making it worse. I go away for a year and I come back to find this going on and you have the gall to involve me in it. I can’t believe you are talking to these filthy slavers, let alone planning that farm. I can’t believe I’m helping you set up some vast slave training ground. I’m sick of myself for helping you. Your disease has eaten your soul away and you are surrounded by sycophants and monsters who encourage only your worst excesses. You have to put a stop to this.”
“I’m sorry Sam, but it’s so complicated. You’re usually the one to say that things just have to happen this way right now. I’m sorry, now it’s my turn this time,” Dehlia said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
“I never expected this from you Dee. Wake up and see what’s happening around you Dee. Wake up! This is Heather from start to finish, it’s not you. Why can’t you say no to her?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Mistress Sarah said. “I honestly feel the same way. I only got involved in this because otherwise John and Lucas would have done it alone and I dread to think what would have happened. Most likely they’d have crippled the girls and then killed them. You’re right. You should walk away from here and this disgusting torture farm and never come back. So should I. There is nothing here but nightmares and pain. Take a look at the girl in the cellar if you doubt me.”
“Oh,” Mistress Dehlia said. It was such a small noise, but it conveyed so much.
“For fuck sake,” Master Sam said. “If these guys work for Marcus they are going to mess you up now Sarah. We can’t protect you, it would be war.”
“I know,” Mistress Sarah said, “but I suppose I have it coming.”
“Yeah, that’s enough honeybuns,” Master John shouted. “Shut yer fucking yap now. You’re done here.”
“I would be happy to buy the girls now. My offer is fifty thousand Australian,” Mistress Dehlia said in a voice that was still quiet, but suddenly had an odd note of cheeriness in it.
“Did you hear that Johnno?” Mistress Sarah yelled.
“Yeah. I want sixty.”
“Fifty-five you prick, don’t push your luck,” Master Sam said, taking over the ‘negotiations’.
“Alright, done,” Master John said.
Chapter Thirty-Eight – New Orders
Master John had made arrangements for Dehlia’s party to stay overnight – everyone that is apart from Master Sam who had left already, taking one of the cars. We were brought in to serve as the entertainment. While we watched, fixed to the wall by our corset rings, the ex-Mistress Sarah was stripped and beaten by the Masters Lucas and John tag team. At first they used their bare hands to beat her in a cold, angry way. Nobody in Dehlia’s party seemed to find this odd or made any move to stop it.
Afterwards, they suspended her naked from the ceiling and beat her with a cane. When her screams became too loud they quietened her down with a large ball gag. They kept at it until she was exhausted and then they let her down. She dropped like a rag doll onto the floor. Blood dribbled from her mouth. I think one of Master John’s earlier punches had knocked out a tooth. Her body was a mass of weals, they looked terrible but I knew from experience that marks on skin were irrelevant. If she was really hurt the bruises would start to come up later. It was sad to see that body I’d so often worshipped sinking down towards my level.
While Master Lucas removed the ball gag and replaced it with a ring, Master John brought up the cage from the basement. They forced her inside then made her lube up the dildo probes with her own spit. Then they forced them into her and locked them in place. She was crushed up tight in the cage; the bars had to be cutting into her. She was a tall woman with long legs and it was no easy job getting her in there.
I had been so squashed in there that I could barely move a muscle, but Sarah was overall much larger than I. With the addition of the dildos penetrating her bum and pussy she couldn’t even wriggle. The third dildo was pushed into her mouth. Apart from a breathing tube it was just like the others, made of steel and covered with black ripple coat. It forced her to hold her head and neck as if she was wearing a posture collar.
The final punishment was the addition of nipple clamps with heavy weights. As her nipples were already pierced, I knew from experience that the clamps would hurt terribly. She screamed once when they put them on but it was muffled by the dildo in her mouth. After that she was turned into a kind of centrepiece for the main living area – an ornament – while everyone else took turns in being serviced by Keiko, Noriko and I. Monica was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if she was alright.
The ‘nurse’ was looked after by Noriko while I took the German bodyguard’s substantial cock in my mouth. It was significantly larger than that of either Master Lucas or John and it took all my skill at deep throating to fit him in. Afterwards, I felt an odd sense of pride at the achievement.
The ‘twins’ only seemed interested in each other to begin with, but the three thugs in suits wasted no time in taking advantage of us. Mistress Dehlia watched from the sidelines. She had removed the scarf from her face, which had been concealing the sort of surgical mask that is sometimes worn by people with colds to stop their sneezes spreading germs. Master Sam’s mention of Dehlia’s ‘disease’ had stuck in my mind. How sick was Mistress Dehlia? Was she contagious?
Master Lucas took no part in the debauchery, but Master John showed no such restraint and he seemed to enjoy fucking me from behind even without the addition of ropes. He seemed to be in a rare good mood. I suspected that Sarah’s fall had done a lot to cheer him up and I could feel the tension rising in his body each time he looked at her caged and beaten form. There was no doubt he was a true sadist. I wondered why he had never put me in the cage. Master Lucas had used it briefly to restrain me for the branding but that was it.
The alcohol flowed freely, strong spirits, not just beer and there was food, prepared by the man they called Tate, who I had first seen at the Sydney party months ago. He had arrived with Dehlia’s group but I got the impression he was friendly with Master Lucas and familiar with Master John. He helped with the hospitality and I got the impression he was working for them in some capacity.
When he had finished cooking he came over to make use of me. At that point I was secured against the wall. Keiko and Noriko were busy with the twins, Dehlia had vanished and everyone else was busy drinking. I had nothing to do and was little more than a decoration. I had been watching the nurse who was drunk and seemed to be flirting with Master Lucas.
Master Tate unhooked me from the wall and dragged me into the kitchen. Nobody noticed or cared; it would not be unreasonable for him to want to use me in private. He bent me over the kitchen table and dropped his pants. I felt his hand on my sex, fondling my clit.
“I remember you from the party,” he said.
“Thank you Master.”
“Your picture has been on television, people are looking for you. You’re married to Lucas. He claims you were kidnapped. I knew that he had you but I didn’t know where he’d hidden you away.”
“Sorry Master. I was unfit to be Master Lucas’ wife. I’m just a disgusting slut.”
“No. You aren’t. At least, you weren’t. If you want to get out of here, if you want me to get a message to someone about your location I’ll do it for you.”
“No Master. I would never try to escape.”
“This isn’t a trick. Besides, you belong to Dehlia now. Lucas can’t punish you for it.”
I pondered the meaning of this. There was a ring of truth to it. I knew that Master Tate did not like Masters Lucas or John. I recalled that he did not like what was done with me at the party, even though he took part. Unwilling participation seemed to be the rule in this society. Nevertheless, escape was against the rules.
“Listen to me you stupid cow, this is your chance to get away. Do something. Give me a name, an address, a number.”
“I can’t Master.”
“Listen. I order you with the authority of Mistress Dehlia to tell me how to contact someone who might come and get you.”
Whether it was fear or sophistry, I couldn’t say no to that.
“Sorry Master. I only want to obey. I can give you my parents’ address. Contact my brother there.”
“Pity you can’t use your hands. Tell me how to write it.”
He took out a condom and I heard the snaps of the rubber as he rolled it onto his penis.
“I have to fuck you or people will be suspicious.”
“Thank you Master. Please put your huge cock in me. I’m aching to feel it inside me.”
“If you insist,” he said unconvincingly, and slipped it into me. His rubbing had made me wet, and it went in easily. There was no chance I would cum, but I would pretend and make a good show. It probably wouldn’t please him but it was how I was trained and I couldn’t go against that.
With his cock inside me, he pulled a notebook and a pencil stub from his pocket.
“Stop moaning and give me the address.”
“Sorry Master.”
“Stop apologising.”
I spelled the address out for him in roman letters. Once he had it written down he turned to fucking me in earnest. I was approaching the climax of my performance when Dehlia walked into the kitchen.
She stood watching us, waiting for Master Tate to finish with a look of faint amusement on her face. When he was done – a few moments later – she issued instructions in that quiet voice of hers.
“You can go. Leave her here. I want to talk to my new purchase in private.”
Despite her quiet tone she really sounded like a mistress. Master Tate pulled up his pants and left, closing the door carefully behind him. Mistress Dehlia helped me stand and turned me to face her. Her touch was gentle.
“I find it curious that Lucas would do this to his own wife and then sell her. I’m sure you find it curious too. No… No, not curious. What is the truth of it? Did he force you to marry him?”
“No Mistress. I was in love with him. When we got here he changed. I understand what he did though. I was a terrible slut, stupid, ignorant, ugly and lazy. He saw the only thing I was good for and put an end to my pretence of being a human being. I’m thankful for it. He put me where I belong.”
“Really? Did you get that scar above your eye from a pony accident, or is it from a beating?”
“I stumbled pulling the sulky Mistress. It was my fault.”
“Oh…”
“Sorry Mistress.”
“The girl that’s sick, who branded her?”
“That was Master John, Mistress.”
“I didn’t think Lucas would do that, but the way you’ve been worked on, it reminds me of someone. It’s a little too familiar. I have people I work with. I don’t really agree with all their hobbies but I have my reasons for tolerating them. Sam was right. They are no better than Lucas, possibly worse.”
She stopped talking long enough to pull the long opera glove from her hand. It was made of rubber, or something like rubber. She had a little difficulty gripping it with the other gloved hand, but she got it down easily enough, as if she’d had a lot of practise.
Her bare hand was perfectly manicured with very short nails. They were the nails of a woman who uses her hands often on other women in an intimate way. I couldn’t help thinking about how pale her skin was, almost translucent. She reached up, and using the bare hand tugged down her mask so I could see her mouth. She was smiling. It wasn’t a cruel smile full of threats, she just seemed happy in a way that nobody else there did.
She leant forward and gave me a kiss. The touch was delicate, barely even there. I couldn’t stop myself tasting her lips with my tongue. They were delicious, sweet like roses and honey. I was used to a different kind of kiss, but this was the opposite of the brutal passionate kisses I had come to expect, and yet more satisfying.
Then she did something I really didn’t expect. She hitched up her dress and quite obviously put her hand to her crotch. I thought that perhaps she intended to masturbate herself. Instead she drew out finger tips glistening with a wet pinkish smear. It was as if she’d had lipstick on her pussy lips. That would be weird but not impossible. Then she slid her fingers inside me and gave my clit a soft caress.
“I’ll send Tate in afterwards to secure you. I don’t want you passing that on to anyone else.”
I suddenly grasped what she’d been doing. She had deliberately infected me with her ‘disease’. What would happen to me?
“There are only a few with the strength to survive this gift. Your friend is too sick. It would kill her without reaching the second stage. Even if she was healthy it would probably kill her, but I can tell it is not going to kill you.”
“Mistress, what have you done to me?”
“It’s convenient to call it a disease, though it is nothing of the kind. I’ve given you the freedom to become whatever you wish. It genuinely is a gift. It’s up to you now to become all that you can, whatever that is and wherever it takes you. Normally, I wouldn’t do this unless I knew you … completely … but apparently, this is how it has to be. I have faith in you. You are determined to live.”
She leaned forward and kissed me again, her eyes closed. She gave a sigh, so languid and regretful that it felt as if my heart was breaking. How could she make me feel these things so easily and so quickly?
“Wait here for Tate,” she said.
She pulled her mask back up and put her glove back on before leaving.
A few minutes later Tate returned carrying some bondage items. One was a butterfly gag. Mistress Sarah had been quite fond of this kind of gag. He pushed the black rubber wings and bulb inside my mouth. A very broad rubber front completely covered my mouth so that I could hardly make a sound and he buckled the straps behind my head. He pumped up the bulb and the wings until it felt like my mouth was bursting and only the strap of the gag was stopping it. I really couldn’t make a sound.
He detached the pump bulb. There was a breathing tube but it was bent to face upwards so that drool didn’t run out of it. I had a strong feeling that this gag had been specially prepared.
I was surprised and frightened when Master Tate used some kind of spirit to clean around my pussy and then inserted a tube into my pee-hole, which burned more than the worst burning pee I’d ever had. He secured it in place with tape. It was only at that point I noticed he’d been wearing disposable surgical gloves.
The final item was a chastity belt. Mistress Sarah had never used such a thing but she had used other belts intended to hold things inside me that performed much the same function. This one was rather sturdier than I was used to, made from a thick rubbery substance, some kind of plastic? It slid effortlessly over my skin unlike real rubber. There were – as expected – plugs for my bum and pussy and a tough plastic shield to cover the crotch area. The crotch strap ran straight up to the belt front and back, sealing both orifices.
The tube emerged from beneath the belt. He connected it to a clear plastic pouch and then opened the valve at the end. The bag immediately began to fill with dark brown urine – as usual I was dehydrated – and he strapped it onto the inside of my thigh, just above the knee.
I, who was used to practically any indignity, felt ridiculous and humiliated. I looked like a freak. How embarrassing to have to carry my pee about where everyone could see it.
When he was finished he led me back into the main room and secured me to the wall where I’d been before.
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Dehlia’s Disease
I was still there the next morning. So was Sarah, still in her cage. I couldn’t see the look on her face. I couldn’t even say if she was asleep or awake, though I imagined sleep would be impossible in her position.
I watched as Mistress Dehlia’s people cleared up their things and left. What was going on? Weren’t they taking me with them?
Mistress Dehlia and Tate remained. Master Sam had reappeared, I guess he’d come to pick people up as it would have been cramped fitting everyone in just two cars.
“We can’t take them now. They’re flying out immediately and there’s no time to make transport arrangements. You can stable them here and we’ll pay the fee as arranged.” Master Tate said.
“Yeah. We sorted all this last night,” Master John said.
“Remember assholes. These are Dee’s now, and if they are damaged or have some accident I will come here personally and pay you back with interest,” Master Sam snarled at Master John.
“Calm down mate. Calm down will you,” Master John said.
“Tate will make pick up arrangements. Remember my warning,” Master Sam said.
Mistress Dehlia’s party left then, leaving the door open behind them. Nobody said a word. The sound of their cars faded in the distance. Suddenly, Master Lucas and Master John both let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Fuck, what is with that dick head Sam?” Said Master John.
“Sam? You know who he is don’t you?”
“Hell no. Who?”
“That’s the one that’s related to Marcus somehow. There’s this thing, a story, rumour, whatever you want to call it… I don’t believe it but people talk it up.”
“Come on man, what is it?”
“Story is that he’s like the Incredible Hulk or something. You mustn’t make him angry or bad things happen.”
“That makes no sense at all. Bloke is angry the whole time.”
“I think that’s supposed to be him in a good mood.”
“How dangerous can he be? I got me a pump action shotgun in the ute. If he comes ‘round again I’ll give him a taste of that. See if he turns green and fucks me up?”
He laughed at his own joke.
“That would be a good way to piss of both Dehlia and Marcus in one go.”
“You’re telling me that prick is protected by both sides?”
“Correct. So that alone is enough to stop anyone with an ounce of brains from putting the story to the test.”
“Shit. I am so sick of these weird-ass fuckers. Why can’t they just fucking die?”
A small whimpering noise came from the cage. Master Lucas looked down and gave a quiet laugh.
“Oh sorry Sarah, forgot you were there… Come on Johnno, help me get her out.”
They hauled Sarah out of the cage and she laid spreadeagled on the floor groaning and moaning. Master John disappeared into another room, leaving Master Lucas alone.
“I found your tooth and put it in some milk. We can drive to the dentist as soon as you’re able to stand,” Master Lucas said.
He bent down and started rubbing vigorously at Sarah’s arms and legs which made her groan and scream.
“Oh don’t make such a thing of it. I gave you a shot of anti-coagulant before we went to bed, you should be fine. We had to make it look good after your little outburst sealed the sale. But don’t think we’re going to go easy on you. You shamed us publically and you know that must be punished. Besides, we don’t have any other use for you now.”
Master John stopped in the doorway.
“Hey Lucas. Seems like Mona’s feeling a lot better this morning. Those new pills must be doing the trick.”
Eventually, Sarah was able to stand briefly and they wrapped her in a blanket, forced some water into her and left her sitting on the sofa. She didn’t even have the strength to lift her arms to wipe away the tears. At last her gaze sought out mine.
“This is what they do to women,” she whispered, her voice a broken cracked thing.
I could barely hear her, and my attention was wandering. I hadn’t slept all night and I was feeling a terrible headache and severe stomach pains of my own, which were not helped by the pressure from the inflexible leather pony corset.
Master John took Keiko, Noriko and myself out to the pen and fed us our regular breakfast. It seemed that our circumstances weren’t going to change as a result of the sale. He didn’t notice that I was stumbling about, or he didn’t care. I collapsed as soon as he was gone. I don’t know if I fell asleep or I was unconscious.
I awoke in a fever. The weather had cooled a little but I was covered in sweat. My head was pounding. Nobody had removed the gag and my jaw was in agony. I crawled over to the water trough and managed to suck up a drink using the breathing tube like a straw. I drank until I couldn’t drink any more and then I collapsed next to the trough. My whole body was shaking. It felt as if I was burning up and shivering at the same time.
I closed my eyes and the strangest things came into my head. One moment I was crawling through a sewer tunnel filled with webs, another I was deep under the sea, or I was back in the cage – no, not the cage in the basement – it was a different cage and he was coming to drain my blood again… My eyes flickered open. I was staring up at the empty blue sky and the bottom of the water trough. Keiko and Noriko were kneeling by my side looking down at me.
“You sick,” whispered Noriko. “Sick bad.”
Then the two girls began to scream and make a fuss and I closed my eyes and I fell into a world of strange unreal dreams. When I opened them again I was lying on a sun lounger in the basement, naked apart from the rubber chastity belt and the gag. Next to me on another lounger was Monica. She looked pale and weak. If this was her after an improvement she must have almost died.
My body was so hot it was beyond fever, but I didn’t feel confused or befuddled by it, my thoughts were clear, but I was tired, so tired and I knew I would sleep again soon. I felt that I was melting, starting to turn to liquid and drain away through the mesh of the lounger. My blood felt as if it was boiling, bubbling and gurgling through me. My limbs were twitching and jerking about of their own accord. This couldn’t be a good thing. I wondered if Monica would get help, but she was unconscious, starting at the ceiling, oblivious to the whole thing.
I closed my eyes and I could see them there: Lucas, Sarah, Johnno. The three bastards that had ruined my life, destroyed my self-esteem – more than that, my entire self – and then turned me into an object for their convenience. Those evil bastards had me in their power for now and I would have to play along but the time would come … their time would come. Perhaps Lucas had intended to serve some great cause with what he did, or perhaps that was just bullshit on his part. It’s one thing to sacrifice yourself for a cause; people accept that. It’s another thing entirely to sacrifice your young newly-wed wife. I couldn’t forgive that.
* * * * *The next time I came back to reality I was exhausted, still sweaty and feverish but otherwise coherent, and I was able to stay awake. Apart from that I was also starving hungry and my stomach and belly had stabbing pains. Sarah was in the process of putting a cold wet towel on my head when I came to. Lucas was watching. They were both wearing disposable gloves and plastic overalls.
Sarah was struggling because she only had one arm to work with. She had a bandage over one eye and her other arm was strapped to her body to support it. She was naked under the overalls and collared. She moved nervously and I suspected that she had not forgotten how Lucas and Johnno had treated her. Her mind and her body both remembered their tuition perfectly.
My guess was that she had served her purpose she would be sent back to Marcus eventually, but her status had been reduced. It was clear to me that in the Marcus faction she was not trusted, and the men weren’t sure if her outburst to Dehlia was a performance or her true feelings.
All the cellar lights were on and it was as bright as it got down there. My jaw still ached and the gag was still in place though it had deflated substantially.
“Dehlia said it would be dangerous to take the gag or the belt off you. I’ve emptied your bag but you can’t have any food,” Sarah said.
When I went to lift my hands, which were at my sides – a relaxing change from being bound behind my back – I found they were cuffed to the lounger.
“She said you might try and remove the belt, and we must not allow that,” Sarah said.
“She did something to you. She could have given you some kind of drug, or I suppose you might have her disease, whatever that is,” Lucas said. “Either way, you were running a temperature that should have killed you and making odd noises despite that gag. You seem to be improving now but from Dehlia’s advice, it’s not over yet. Apparently, you are going to enter a state where you get so horny that you would rub your clit and nipples to a bloody mess if you were free, but once that passes you should be ok.”
It was not very cheering to learn that I still had some kind of weird withdrawal phase to go through before it was over. Whether it was the power of suggestion, or it was just the natural course of things, by the time I’d managed to drink some water I could feel it coming on. It felt like I was just on the edge of an orgasm and I just needed a little touch to take me over that edge. I threw myself about trying to get some kind of stimulation on my crotch or my nipples, but the sun lounger was strong enough to hold me.
The feeling got worse and worse. I would have done anything, promised anything or submitted to any condition to get that release. I wondered if this desperation was the same as other addicts felt. The urges that I’d had to cum before were all nothing compared to this. Bit by bit it felt like my fear was simply burning away in the crucible of that insatiable need to cum.
Lucas didn’t stay to watch, but Sarah remained. She watched me and gave me water and promised that it would pass, though I don’t know why she believed it would. It must have gone on for hours. Sometimes she dozed and other times she drank some water herself – from a different bottle – but she never left for more than a few moments.
She didn’t get anything to eat and I wondered afterwards if Lucas and Johnno had simply decided not to feed her for a day or two to weaken her. At the time, the thought never crossed my mind. I did everything I could to try and get her to release me or to give me some relief. Secured as I was that didn’t amount to much. It was a good thing I was gagged because the stuff I might have said would have made The Exorcist look like a dolls’ tea party.
It was a long vigil for Sarah and even harder time for me, but in the end the need began to subside and eventually I felt like I could control it. Not long after that I was able to sleep.
When I seemed well behaved on the next awakening, Sarah removed the gag.
“Thank you Mistress,” I said. I had to keep up the illusion of compliance, make them think I was still afraid.
“I never went through that, though I have heard rumours about it. I was never judged strong enough to make the attempt. I ran away from Dehlia’s house when I realised the only thing that could happen if I stayed there was to slide into an ever deeper addiction to sex,” Sarah said.
“Mistress, may I be released?”
“I need to hose you down first.”
Monica’s lounger was gone. She doused me in hospital disinfectant straight from the bottle and then hosed me down. The waste water gurgled down a grating, disappearing to who knows where.
“Mistress, how is Monica?”
“She’s much better. She can walk about now. Still weak but she’s on the mend.”
“How long before Mistress Dehlia will take delivery Mistress?”
“I’m told it will be two weeks, roughly. Apparently, she wishes pony training to resume as soon as you and Monica are fit enough. I think it will be a couple of days before that is possible for you, longer for Monica.”
I didn’t really have any other questions so I took a short walk around the room to get my blood moving and then lay down to rest. Afterwards, they took the sun lounger and burned it along with the plastic sheeting. Johnno never bothered to replace it.
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17.07.13
story continues in Betrayal Chapter 9: Insomniac Sleeping Beauty
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