Message-ID: <37729asstr$1028689804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "StarScribe" <StarMan@treflor.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 06 Aug 2002 18:40:19 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} From Genious To Slave part 1  (Mf abduction rape torture anal toys)
Date: Tue,  6 Aug 2002 23:10:04 -0400
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 From Genious To Slave - Part 1

This is a work of fiction.  Any similarity to any persons living or dead,
real or imagined, is purely coincidental.

This work contains acts of non-consensual torture, bondage, and sex.

If such things offend you, then close this now.

If such things are illegal for you to read then close this now.

This work is being put out to the public domain.  I don't care if you use it
on a paying site as long as you give me credit for it (you don't even have
to pay me, just don't let me find it with someone else's name on it, or no
name at all), as long as you include the entire series on your site, AND AS
LONG AS YOU DON'T MAKE ANY CHANGES!  I don't even want you fixing the typos
that may or may not exist.

I'm the StarScribe, and I hope you enjoy it.  This message is posted via an
email address that is intentionally bogus, so no, I don't want any comments
or suggestions about it.  If you like the story, then good.  If you don't,
then oh well.  Don't bug me asking when the next chapter is coming out ... I
don't know.  It'll come out when I write it, not a second sooner.  Don't bug
me asking if I have other stories planned ... I don't know.  You'll know
about other stories when I post them.

With that said, on to the story

**********************************

My name is Jered Walker and I'm a trust fund baby.

It's true, I am.  Not really proud of it, but not ashamed either.

Over the last six years, I've grown my initial fund to about six times its
inital size.  Actually, I grew it like that over four of the last six years.
I got out of the stock market in February of 2000.  I just can't see how
anyone missed the coming collapse.  But obviously they didn't, because most
of the people I know got burned pretty good.  Me, I've got CASH.  78 mil at
last count.

With me the whole stock market thing was a hobby.  The problem is that once
I got out, I was left with out hobby anymore.

My new hobby came while I was in a funk.  I was BORED with nothing to do and
I ended up being SERIOUSLY active in about a dozen newsgroups and mailing
lists regarding politics, and I was one hell of a flamer.  With all the time
I had on my hands, I could research the living shit out of any topic I took
on, and let people know it when their positions weren't supported by the
facts.

Actually, I was a shithead about it.  I was the biggest flamer many of those
groups had seen in a long time, and it was worse because my shit was always
so backed up with various citations that were easily verified.  So I pissed
a ton of people off.

One guy was a hacker.

He shot back at me damn near my whole life's story and threatened to have me
killed.

Some people might have been scared.  Not me.  I hired the snotty nosed punk
to teach me everything he knew.  Then when he had done that, the two of us
became experts in survailence.  You know, wiretaps, bugs, little hidden
cameras, all that crap.  It took me about 9 months of doing nothing else but
studying this stuff to become an expert at it.

Then I layed him off and sent him on his way, but not before having meet a
few of my friends ... who threatened they'd break every bone in his face
before putting concrete up to his knees and dropping the block into the
middle of the desert someplace if he ever even suggested he knew me, met me,
or anything of the sort.

Then I got busy.

You see, I'm a bit of a pervert.

No, that's not true, I'm a serious pervert.  Not proud of it, but not
ashamed either.  So, while I have tons of money, and all the women I could
want ... none of them stick around long because none of them have quite my
.... appetites.

So my purpose in learning all this was to find THE girl.

The one who would become mine.

And not just mine as in my wife or some other bullshit like that, I mean
mine as in MINE ... as in my property ... as in my fuck, pain,
and-what-ever-else-I-want, slut.  I want a bitch so fucking smart she knows
she's my property and knows that she needs to put every ounce of her
intelligence into just one thing ... doing what ever I want.

So I began looking for that girl.  My criteria for my new piece of property
was strict, I wanted just the right one.  First, I was looking for a girl
who was smart enough to be in college before 16, and currently was no more
than 20.  She also had to be smart enough to be a bit althletic (studies
show althletic women score better on tests and such than non-athletic
women).  She had to have black hair, and be between five foot four and five
foot nine.  Finally, She had to have large B or small C size tits.

For a while I seriously thought about changing my criteria a bit.  In the
entire country there are only 789 females that entered college before
turning 16 between now and four years ago.  Not exactly a wide field of
selection.  As I looked into each of them, I discarded them for one reason
or another .... too fat usually.  In one case I thought I had found the one
.... but she was about the smallest titted girl I'd ever seen in my life.  I
kept her as a reserve (thinking I could always have her tits enlarged later)
just in case I didn't find anyone in the remaining girls.  Some of the other
girls I looked into I tossed because they had the wrong hair color, or for
tits being too large.

I was beginning to think I was going to have to go with number 189 (the one
with no tits) when I found her.

Number 703.  She fit my criteria exactly.  She was a bit younger than I
would have liked (17), but otherwise, she was was perfection on two legs.

Monica Harswall born on February 7, and a Sophmore at the local University
studying criminal psychology (I still can't believe the one I found lived in
my own city!).  Her parents (both of which live in Florida though they are
currently divorsed) set her up in a quaint appartment not far from the
school, but far enough to be ouside the frat and sorority crowd.  Her car is
a 2001 Grey Saturn, license 287HRTI.  Her parents send her enough money that
she doesn't have to work, but not so much she can party.  She's five foot
seven inches tall, with C cup tits and a 7 percent body fat percentage.  Her
hair is JET black, and she's got those large Cuban, cock-sucking, lucious
lips that are just to die for.  Her hobbies are softball (which she is
amazingly talented at) and gourmet cooking.  She has two boyfirends, Todd
and Mark which she dates a couple times a month ... neither knows about the
other.  She's active in a couple of gourmet cooking communities online, and
has one hell of a kitchen.  I could give you tons of other details, but
they're irrelevant.

Once I got the details I could online, I then began following her, picking
up things like her license number, social, phone numbers, house keys, car
keys, keys to her two boy friends places, etc.

In short, I became her stalker.

Unlike other wannabe's though, she never knew of my presence ... and I know
because I bugged her home phone and she didn't have a cell.  I placed bugs
ALL OVER THE PLACE in her apartment and in her car.  I also put a GPS
tracking unit on her car.  Quite literally, she couldn't make a move or a
sound without me knowing about it.

Over the next six months, I studied her every move.  Learned everything
about her.  And I mean EVERYTHING. Right down to the timing of her period.
Next I went into planning.

I still kept pretty intense tabs on her where abouts, but now it was time to
start making her mine.

Of course I did little things ... like get rid of the boys, which was easy.
I let them find out about each other, then found other chicks for them to
date.  They were history, and she was alone.

Next, her abduction.  Which turned out to be amazingly easy.  I simply
became an agent of the FBI who offered her a chance to become part of a
study group on terrorists in Egypt.  Even with everything since 9/11, she
jumped at the chance.  Phony numbers I set up let her and her parents
"verify" that everything was on the up and up.  I even spent three hours on
the phone with her parents discussing safety of their daughter while in the
middle east.

Finally it was done, and she and I were on a plane heading to Egypt.

I went ahead and went through the whole charade of dropping her off at a
nice hotel where she got her things ready, then I returned back two hours
later to pick her up (it was important to me that she not be allowed to
sleep)

Our first destination was, I told her, a stop at a former terrorist training
camp.

In reality it was an entire office complex that I had leased out for six
months and outfitted with some help from a few folks whos living it was to
find and abduct women for use as harem girls in the wealthy Shieks houses.

So, we got there, and I took her promptly into a "questioning center."

It was a single building approximately 6,000 square feet in size with no
walls at all (though a good number of support posts existed into which I had
installed numerous eye-rings), and kept a comfortable 75 degrees.  Along the
walls was a stunning array of items.

Anyone in the BDSM lifestyle would have had an orgasm just walking into the
building.  Every shape and size of paddle, whip, crop, cane, and flogger you
can imagine.  Several types of King's Crosses, benches with rings all over
the place.  Hoists on the cieling, harnesses of every type, chains, cuffs,
and bindings of every size and type.

I probably had the widest array of masks and gags ever assembled, and that
was second to my collection of fetish wear.

Though she never looked into them, I also had four refrigerators stocked
with various food and drink supplies, a small "kitchen" stocked with a wide
array of cooking utensils, and four cabinets that held cleaning supplies,
and a good chunk of medical equipment (for enemas and such) ... though she
never looked into the cabinets.  One of the "cabinets" however really wasn't
a cabinet at all, but a secret passage between two of the buildings.  I
installed it in case she ever got out of her restraints and I wanted to
sneak up on her.

Finally, one section of the building contained a couple of sofa's, three
beds, and a four easy chairs.  Built into the wall was a 27" TV set with a
VCR and DVD

It was the fetish wear that gave her pause.

She turned and looked at me, almost as if her intellect suddenly told her
that something wasn't right.

I smiled broadly and waved my hand at it all.  "This is your new life."

She drew in a deep breath, then spoke slowly.  "What do you mean ... my new
life?"

"Shortly, some men are going to come in here and tie you down.  You have
just become my property."

"I ... don't under.."

She never finished the sentence, deciding instead to make a break for it.
The thing was, this room had only one way in and one way out that she could
see.

And that one way required the hand print of only three people in the world
on a device which was not easy to just see.

So she ran to the door and tried in vain to open it.  When that didn't work,
she tried pounding on the door (she had seen the guards I had hired on the
way in).

That of course was the cue to the guards to come in.

Within seconds, she was trussed up like a pig.

Even I was impressed.  These people KNEW what they were doing.

As if it were the most normal thing in the world, they just walked calmly
out, almost as if nothing at all had happened.

She lay on the ground squirming, her face a mixture of fear and anger.
"What the hell are you doing!"

I walked over to one of the cabinets and removed a pair of sizzors used by
trauma doctors to quickly remove the clothing of their patients.  These damn
things'll cut almost anything.  Next I grabbed one of the rooms chairs and
wheeled it over by her while she cocntinued with her pleas of "let me go,"
or "You can't do this, I'm an american citizen,"  and my favorite "I won't
tell anyone if you just let me go now."

I sat down and began twidling with the sizzors waiting for her to realize
that I wasn't going to simply let her go.

It took about an hour, with some crying and a little bit of hysterics, but
she finally grew bored enough, and I'd imagine sore enough from being tied
the way she was, that she calmed down.

"What do you want from me," she finally asked in a voice that said she was
ready to listen.

"I now have what I want.  You."

"I don't understand."

"As you obviously realize by now, I'm not in the FBI.  The reason for the
duplicitity was to lure you here to a country where I could train you with
greater ease.  You see, in this part of Egypt, all women wear Burka's ...
you know, the things that cover their heads and faces.  You won't have such
a thing, and I've paid significant sums of money to local law enforcement to
see to it that if anyone without a Burka is seen, they are rounded up and
brought to me.  I've also paid many local merchants and several others.
This was to ensure you can not escape as we are in the middle of town.  Oh,
and that doesn't even count my own little personal army of men who
specialize in the capture and tracking of women."

I could see her eyes growing wide.  "You ... you're abducting me into a sex
slave ring ..."

Those last words came out very quietly.

"But my parents..."

I shook my head.  "I've got that taken care of already.  But before you get
over panicky, this is not a slave ring.  At least for the foreseeable future
you won't be sold.  You have been abducted to be mine, and mine alone."

Her eyes grew hard and cold.  "I'll escape.  Or worse."

I almost laughed in her face as I kneeled down and began cutting her shirt.
Predictably (but still disappointingly) she tried to squirm away, but
trussed up the way she was, it was impossible.  I didn't even try and stop
her as it really did little to stop me.

As I cut up the side of her shirt, I just pushed the sizzors under her bra,
and kept going.  In seconds, her shirt was cliced up the front.  A few more
cuts later, and it was pieces on the floor, her top half completely naked.
When I started on her black leggins, she began to really squirm ... which
only made me want to laugh all the more.  The instant I cut passed into her
panties as I cut down one of the legs, she began screaming.

Holy shit was she loud.

But I knew that she was no where near loud enough for her screams to be
heard outside the compound, so I just let her do it.  Enforce the fact that
she had no hope ... besides, she was going to be doing a lot of screaming
over the next several months so why not get started now.

Within minutes she lay on the ground fully nude, her clothing nothing but
strips of cloth on the ground.

I sat back down and twiddled with the sizzors while she screamed, waiting
for her to stop.

Seeing me there sitting so calmly, I think she realized that I knew she
could scream all she wanted and stopped, her screams turning into sobs and
pleas of "don't rape me."

"Look at the way you're tied," I said sighing.  "I can't very well rape you
at the moment can I?"

She nodded her head.  "But I thought you said I was going to be a sex
slave."

My eyes brightened up ... she was already admitting it to herself.  Her
words made my dick become suddenly hard.  "Oh, but you are.  But at the
moment, we've got to go over some rules."

"Rules?"

I nodded my head.  "The first and most important rule is that you are to do
what I say, when I say, how I say, and with whom I say with no hesitation.
That's rule number 1.  Now, repeat it back to me."

"please ... you can't do this ... please..."

I sighed and got up out of my chair and walked over to one of the walls and
removed a riding crop.

I returned, and promptly swatted one of her tits ... right on the nipple.
This drew a brief yelp of pain, and I repeated.  "First and foremost, you
are to do what I say, when I say, how I say, and with whom I say with no
hesitation.  That's rule number 1.  Now, repeat it back to me."

She looked at me in wide eyed shock.  With a major in psychology, I'm sure
she knew what I was doing ... this of course only made my dick harder still.

I hit her tit again, harder this time, and repeated the rule.  This time she
repeated it back to me right away.

"Very good.  Rule numbere 2.  I am always to be addresed as Master.  Any
free man I bring in here is to be addressed as Sir unless I say otherwise,
and any free woman I bring in here is to be addressed as Ma'am unless I say
otherwise.  repeat it back to me."

Being a smart girl, she didn't fight me at all and just parrotted my words
back to me.

"Rule 3.  You are forbidden clothing unless I or another free person puts
them on you or orders you to put something on.  repeat it back."

and on I went with the rules.

Rule 4 was that she was NEVER to remove any restraint, gag, or tie from
herself, nor ever attempt to get out of any such device.  Fule 5 was that
unless she was specifically told to, she was never to touch any of the items
on the walls ... even if they weren't on the walls.  She wasn't to go to the
kitchen unless ordered to do so, and the cabinets were ALWAYS off limits.
Rule 6 was the kicker, no more use of the first person.  She had to use ONLY
the third person, and my address herself as slave or my property."

I had to swat her a few more times to get her to repeat that one, then swat
her several more times to get her to repeat all of the rules back the right
way.

Then I got up and left.

Hey, I was hungry and she wasn't going anywhere.  I jumped into my car and
drove a short distance away to a cafe for lunch.

I spent time savoring every bite and imagining the training process.

When I returned, Zauri stopped me, and showed me a personal Sony handheld
TV.  It was modified to pick up the wireless signal from the hidden cameras.
My little sex slave had escaped.  She had a butcher knife in each hand, and
was crouching by the door.

"She's a smart one,"  I said almost proud.  "I expected her to try and use
the whips or other stuff on the walls."

Zauri nodded.  "How you want to play this?"

"Get me your night vis goggles and that dart gun."

Zauri nodded and walked over to his car.  His truck held an array of weapons
and other items, and in moments he was back with the items.

"Gun is loaded already," he said handing me the goggles and the pistol.

I nodded, then walked over to the other building.

This one was the room that held the computer equipment that controlled my
"pleasure palace" where my slave was currently trying to escape from.  It
also held my office and my sleeping quarters.  Once in there, I turned off
the lights in the palace, knowing it was now utterly dark, I grabbed one of
the mikes and spoke into it.

"You forgot the rules very quickly," I said in a calm voice.  "I am going to
give you a chance to partially redeem yourself.  Place the knives by the
front door, go to the center of the room, and lay down flat on your belly
spread eagle.  In a second I'm going to turn the lights back on, and if you
haven't done this, punishment will be swift and severe."

I waited a few breaths, then hit the lights.

I must say I was disappointed to see her still there, crouched this time.  I
had truly hoped she was smarter than that, but it's possible fear was ruling
her thought process ... fear of being a slave, not fear of me.

That of course would be changing VERY soon.

I hit the lights in the palace again, plunging the room into complete
darkness, and hit another set of lights that to a normal person wouldn't do
anything, to someone wearing night vis, it would be like broad daylight in
there.

I walked through the passage connecting the two buildngs, and silently
opened the door.

Unfortunately I didn't open it silently enough as she turned to the noise
and crept at me.

It was almost comical to see her holding her hand out, fishing for me in the
dark.

I even scraped my foot a little bit to give her a bit more direction.  Once
she was close enough, I fired.

The shot hit her in the tit I had been using to start her training earlier.
All it did was embolden her, so I quickly closed the door, and felt her body
smash against it.  Next I heard her rooting around, aparently still looking
for me.  Less than a minute later, and all was silence.

I opened the door and removed the goggles.  "Verna," I said activating the c
omputer.  "Lights."

Instantly the lights in the room were on.

She wasn't completely out, but shortly would be.  With very little
difficulty I removed the knives from her hands, then grabbed her by her long
and lucious black hair and dragged her over to the middle of the room and
dropped her head (where it bounced on the floor due to her now being
unconcious).  Then I picked her up and placed her on a bench, a hard wooden
thing that is intended to be used only for punishment.  Next I cuffed her
spread eagle and left.  She'd be out for a couple of hours.

I returned probably ten hours later, having slept like a baby, I was ready
to begin a full day of training.

My new slave however looked like she had been trying to escape ... again.

Her wrists and ankles were bloody messes from where she'd been pulling so
much, and her hair was tangled to hell from the thrashing around.

So I went and grabbed the same crop as before and returned to her side.

"What's rule 1," I asked calmly.

"FUCK YOU," she screamed ... then tried to spit in my face.

So I walked down to that beautiful mound of hers and began "spanking" her.
By the tenth blow she was doing this yelping/whimpering that was actually
rather funny.

Her snatch and inner thighs had taken on a beautiful pinkish glow that made
me want to kiss them ... but she was here for punishment.

"What is rule 1," I said again."

"I--"

The instant she used the word I, the forbidden first person, the crop came
down again five times in rapid succession.

"Lets try rule 6."

"I'm not--"

Again, the use of first person, this time she got ten more strikes with the
crop, and this time I used quite a bit of my strength.  Welts were being
raised on every blow, and she went from yelping to screaming.

"I want you to think about the words you use very carefully before you
answer me.  What is rule 6."

She looked at me wide eyed, then slowly realization spread across her tear
streaked features.

"This ... property must address herself only in the third person."

"Now what's rule 1."

"This property must do what ever you say, when you say, how you say, with
whom you say, without hesitation."

"Rule 4."

"This property must not remove any any restraint or gag, or any other
device."

"There are six rules," I said calmly.  "Six.  Six very simple rules which
you obviously have learned already.  Yet, within your first two hours, you
broke three of them.  Fully half of small number of rules I have."

I walked to her head and looked down on her.  "SO what should be your
punishment?"

Instantly she was in hysterics and repeated "please don't hit me with that
again, I'll do anything, please don't hit me again ..."

"How about just following rule 6."

This resulting in fifteen blows on her belly.

I waited until her screams died off into a whisper.

"So what should be my slave's punishment."

"Please, your ... this property will do anything you want ... please don't
hit this property anymore ... please ..."

"You'll do anything?  Lets see..."

I walked over to the wall and grabbed the most vicious pair of clamps I own
and returned to her, and unlocked on of her arms.  I showed her the clamps,
then put them on her belly.  "Put them on your nipples," I said.

She nodded, but I knew she didn't understand.  Gingerly she placed one of
them on, and instantly clamped her fingers back over it and opened it up.

"You are rapidly in the area of violating rule 1 again.  You said you would
do anything.  Well, put them on.  It's an order."

"Oh god,  please ... please--"

Her words were cut off when I brought the crop down on on her nipple HARD.
Then I grabbed a hold of her arm, and rained nineteen more blows upon her,
focusing all of my attention on her aerolas and nipples of both breasts.
This time her screaming grew so loud, and the echo's so prevalent, that I
considered gagging her lest she blow my ear drums.  I quickly discarded that
idea as I felt she needed to hear herself scream.  To know that no matter
how loud she was, no help would be arriving.

"I want you to realize that everytime you disobey me, or fail to follow a
rule, I add five strokes.  I wonder how many you'll be up to by the end of
the day."

"Please master ... please ... especially now ... my--"

As soon as she said it, she knew.

Twenty five blows came down.  Her body was now a mass of welts.

This time, I held her hand, and I put the clamps on her.

She began thrashing around like a fish out of water.  It seemed that the
clamps on her already abused nipples hurt her so bad, she couldn't even
scream.

So I helped her along a bit.  I grabbed a hold of one of the clamps and
distended her breast with it.

THAT got her to screaming.

With some effort, i got her arm back into the restraint, and began playing
with the nipple clamps, keeping her in constant agony.

After several minutes of this, I abruptly pulled the clamps off, and a small
measure of relief spread across her face.

Only for the look of agony to return as the blood pounded back.

I then grabbed a pair of cuffs, and undid her arms.  I sat her up, and
cuffed her arms behind her back.  She'd finally figured out fighting me was
futile.

Next I undid her legs and lead her over to one a section of the wall that
had spikes along the front of it so you couldn't lean into it without
getting jabbed.  I got her legs secured, then her arms secured to eyebolds,
and slowly pushed her against the wall.

She made some attempt to fight me, but her position left no ability to do
so.  I pushed her against the wall enough to cause many of the welts to be
poked and begin seeping.

My pain slut of course was whimpering in pain through the whole thing.

"Want me to stop," I asked her.

She nodded as much as the wall would allow.

Only arms distance away was a whip.  I snatched it off the wall and held it
to her face.

"Kiss this like it's the love of your life."

I kept preassure until she started, and upon seeing her honestly trying, I
let up, letting her ease back away from the wall.

"Tell me you love the whip."

Her breathing caught for a moment, but she finally spit out, "This property
loves the whip."

"Now tell me you want me to use it on you."

"please ... no ..."

I leaned into her HARD, so hard even the side of her face got jabbed pretty
good, one of the spikes coming perilously close to her eye.  I held her
there for a good two or three minutes.  Stupid bitch actually squirmed a
couple of times which only made her pain worse.

I let up, and allowed her to get away from the spikes.

"Now tell me you want me to use the whip on you."

"oh god, master please ..."

When I placed my hand between her shoulders and started to push again, the
words came out in a rush.

"Please use the whip on your slave!"

And so I did.

For probably the better part of an hour I worked on her.  I raised tiny
welts from the top of her back all the way down to the crack of her ass and
continued down to the calves of both legs.

Exactly according to plan, she was now covered in welts on both sides of her
body, and what wasn't welted was seeping blood.

She hung limply, occasionally her body would twitch and bump her into the
spikes.

I released her leg restraints, then undid her arms, cuffing them behind her
back again.

I lead her over to one of the beds (occasionally having to support her as he
legs wanted to give out), and cuffed her to it spread eagle on her back.
 From a shelf on the wall I grabbed a vibrator and some lube, and uncuffed
her right arm.  Then I grabbed another cane and kneeled down to whisper into
her ear.

"There is escape from the pain," I said.  "You must pleasure yourself."

She began shaking her head, crying, whimpering, begging me to please let her
go.

Semi-gently I stuck one of her breasts to cause her to fall silent.

"Listen to me, give in to it.  Your threshold for pain increases under
sexual stimulation."

I lubed up the vibrator and handed it to her.

"Pleasure yourself," I said again, and lightly tapped an unbroken welt.

With tears streaming out of her eyes, she moved the vibrator between her
legs and rubbed it against her clit.

I could tell from her motions that she was only doing it because I told her
to.  She was stiff, wooden, not really trying to escape the pain, or me.

"It's your only escape," I whispered to her, then hit her again a little
harder.  "Fall into your only source of pleasure."

I hit her again, hard enough to pop a welt this time, and didn't stop.  I
lightly hit her to the rythm of her stroking, and after a couple of minutes,
I could see the change in her face.  She closed her eyes, and some of the
pained look on her face loosened and fell away.  Her breathing changed, and
the movement of her arm became more sensual.

As she used the vibrator on herself, I continued my spanking of her body,
increasing the strength of the blows ... but she seemed not to notice.

Her tired, abused, and hungry body, combined with a mind that was confused,
frightened, and a bit sleep deprived, caused her to fall into the escape
from what had been hours of hell.

I could see that the leg restraints were working against her, and un did
them.  She promptly pulled her legs up  and swayed on the bed a bit, rocking
into her own ministrations.  With my other hand, I undid my pants and let
them fall to the floor while I kept up my rythmic cropping of her body.

I could see the change in her, the coming orgasm, and completely stopped
hitting her.  That brought it one even faster, and I watched as she
shuddered in the pleasure of the orgasm, and probably the pleasure of the
escape.

I however wasn't finished with her.

I applied some lube generously to my throbbing cock and pulled her legs up
onto my shoulders.  Her eyes went wide when I guided my dick to the opening
of her anus.

I thought she might try to squirm away, surprisingly enough, she didn't.
Fear, now of me (or perhaps of the crop still in my hand), prevented her.

I eased into her slowly (I knew she was an anal virgin and the last thing I
wanted to do was cause a tear and an infection).

I pleasured myself, running in and out of her, enjoying the pained look on
her face.  I came quickly, playing with her had simply built up too much.
But I knew it was only going to be the first of a great many times I took
her today.

I got up and walked over one of the cabinets and removed a towel and used it
to clean myself up with.  Then I went over to the door and told the door
guards to get my slave cleaned up.

I decided it was time for breakfast, and got dressed to leave them to their
jobs.  From the looks on their faces, I had little doubt they intended to
use her before the cleaned her.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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