Undercover Slave Girl

by Argus

  “Nasty little slut,” she heard O'Neil's voice say. “You weren't told you could play with your clit.”

  He bent her body, back arching sharply as she maneuvered her off the table and over to the side where one of the men sat on the sofa. That man turned his body, laying down along the sofa, and Hannah moaned as she was pushed into place, turned, and straddled his body. Her head was still being forced back so that she could see little other than O'Neil behind her. She could feel hands on her hips, then on her thighs, and then the feel of a hard cock pressing against her opening.

  With a groan, she did her best to sink down, despite the pull of the hair. It resisted for a moment, then pulled her head forward and released her. With a shuddering gasp, her head fell forward and she saw the man leering at her from underneath as she felt his cock sliding up into her body.

  His hands cupped and mauled her breasts as another man moved up beside the sofa. He grasped her hair, pulling her head further forward and down, then fed his cock into her mouth as she felt movement behind her. The wildness within flamed hotter as she felt herself manhandled, quite literally, and felt fingers at her bottom.

  A wild thrill of shocked delight swept over her, mixed with just a little anxiety, as she felt the butt-plug pulled free. Then another cock pushed slowly up into her ass while the cock in her mouth drove down into her throat. Her hands jerked helplessly against the restraints as the three cocks pushed in and out of her, and then the raging heat exploded into a massive orgasm that threatened to drive her into unconsciousness with the force of the pleasure flooding through her.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body trembled uncontrollably as the orgasm flared wildly. But the three men held her tightly in place as they thrust into her again and again, their delight and excitement at the lithe young blonde girl's writhing body only making them use her harder.

  The orgasm continued to tear through Hannah, and when it finally eased she was left numbed and dazed, hardly even aware of the men continuing to use her for a time. When she did become aware the knowledge was of little interest. Her mind was dazed, stunned by the power of the orgasm, and nothing else seemed to matter while it recovered.

  When it did finally recover she found herself still in the midst of a lewd sexual tableau which partially amused her, but certainly didn't upset her. She worked her body as best she could, knowing it was her task to please the men sexually, doing it as routinely as breathing or walking. She rolled her hips and rode the cock beneath her, squeezing down with her internal muscles as his cock slid out, easing them as he pushed forward.

  It took little time for the arousal to reignite within her, but it was not as powerful this time. Still she felt a warm sense of exultation as she brought one man after another to orgasm, experiencing the life of the sexual animal O'Neil had described her, and basking in the allure of her complete sexual freedom from orals or inhibitions.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The restraints around her wrists and ankles were not the metal ones Hannah was used to. These were padded leather held together with strips of Velcro.

  She stood, spreadeagled, impaled, really, on a thick metal bar which rose from the floor between her legs. The post was quite thick, and buzzed softly, deep inside her belly. Combined with the ache as the rounded nose pressed uncomfortably against the back wall of her sex, her body was soon swept into another sexual fever. Alone in the room, she jerked and shook, gasping and moaning and sobbing helplessly as the massive orgasm churned through her system.

  Another followed, and another on top of that. Hannah trembled dazedly, her body overheating inside and out. Beads of sweat trickled down her body as the sexual heat grew in intensity once again. She twisted and thrashed and screamed into the ball gag as another orgasm tore through her, followed by several more.

  So good, she thought dazedly. So gooood.

  The orgasms came faster after that, and she twisted and thrashed in maddened convulsions as the strength and force of the climaxes shattered her mind again and again. She wondered, fleetingly, if she would go mad from them all, but she didn't really care.

  Her arms pulled more and more harshly against the restraints around her wrists as her movements became more violent and her self-control faded away. And then the orgasms faded as exhaustion set in, faded, but did not disappear. They came slower now, the pressure taking longer to build up within her dazed, exhausted body.

  She was all-but hanging by her wrists by then, swaying and moaning, eyes glassy as the burning, throbbing post within her set her on the path to orgasm yet again.

  Her wrists were sweaty, like the rest of her, and one of the leather cuffs had not been quite tightened enough. As she approached another orgasm, and her body began to twist and writhe, her arm pulled free and she almost fell – save for the second arm holding her in place. Her hand immediately dropped between her legs, her fingers rubbing frantically at her clitoris as another orgasm shook her. This one immediately built up to more power with the touch of her fingers and she screamed into the gag as it tore through her mind.

  She half hung now, from just the one wrist, still swaying weakly, but, drained, she focused her eyes, and then, to some extent, her mind. She reached up with the free hand and undid the straps on the other, so that both hands came free. Groaning, she slowly bent, very slowly, very carefully, and reached out trembling fingers to pull on the velcro strap around one ankle, then the other.

  With her ankles free she drew her legs slowly back together. This raised her up higher and then still higher on the post. Yet she was still locked in place, uncertain how to remove herself until she looked up again at the leather cuffs dangling above her head. She reached up, gripped them, and pulled herself slowly up until the thing came out, then eased down, and all-but collapsed onto the rug, panting, chest heaving, moaning.

  It took quite some time to recover, and she remained drained and weary, her muscles aching. But now, as her mind began to function, she knew both fear, and opportunity. Fear, because she had done what she was not supposed to do. She would be punished, perhaps severely, for escaping the restraints. Unless, of course, she could slip them on again, and already, she could see how she could do that.

  But in the meanwhile, there was opportunity, for it was deep into the night, and everyone else was presumably asleep. No doubt there were guards on the gate, and alarms on the doors, but she had no plan to escape. Instead, she padded slowly up the narrow corridor to 'her room' and there found the recording device. Then, still naked, she made her way back down the hall to the staircase, then down it and up another corridor towards O'Neil's office.

  The computer was not turned off, and she examined it, then looked through files, searching for anything which looked interesting. She was looking for documents with numbers, amounts, or names, and when she found them, she took pictures of the screen. She also searched through the desk drawers, taking pictures of likely looking documents.

  She didn't know if any of it was of any value, but at least Smith couldn't accuse her of not trying!

  When she had stayed as long as she dared, she made her way back to the room, then, pulling herself up by the overhead restraints, she carefully, and with much difficulty, lowered herself onto the fat, buzzing metal post again, groaning as it pushed up into her body. Gasping, wincing, she slowly spread her legs gradually further apart, then bent and attached the ankle restraints.

  She was able to snap one of the wrist restraints around her wrist, then slowly worked her other wrist up into the second until she was, more or less, as she had been. Her pounding heart began to ease now that her fear of discovery had faded. But another problem arose. The buzzing within began to arouse her once again.

  * * *

  When O'Neil checked on his slave early that morning he found her, as he'd suspected, barely conscious, hanging by her wrists, her overheated body twitching and jerking, her eyes glassy. He was pleased. Things had gone as he'd suspected. He released her and carried he
r up the hall and into the bathroom, then bathed her before setting her in the cage in the next room. Then he went to breakfast.

  * * *

  Hannah slept much of that day, exhausted. The orgasms had torn through her one after another, until it had seemed like one unending climax had shaken her body and blasted her mind. She felt shell-shocked by the endless storm of pleasure, her nervous system numb, her mind fogged. Every muscle in her body felt strained, as if she had been writhing and twisting and thrashing without stop for much of the morning.

  Even as she lay curled up on the padded floor of the cage she felt her mind battered by the echo, the memory, of that howling storm of pleasure. She continued to twitch and jerk, gasping weakly for some time.

  When O'Neil came for her, she groaned weakly, and tried to sit up.

  “Come, slave,” he ordered.

  His voice was a low growl, and something in it hinted that something had changed.

  He led the stumbling, weary girl back up the hall and back into the room where she'd spent most of the morning, then, to her surprise, bound her ankles and wrists once again. It was not normally his way to bind her again in the same way she'd just been bound, but she soon realized the change. With arm and wrists shackled in the padded leather restraints, she was raised up by her ankles, not her wrists, and the chains tightened to the point she gasped as her body ached from the strain of her four limbs pulling in different directions.

  “I am troubled, slave,” he said, letting the leather laces of a long flog dangle to the floor. “Do you know why I'm troubled, slave?”

  “N-No, M-master!” she gasped, unable to see him standing behind her.

  And then she saw the television on the wall come to light, and saw – upside down – an image of herself from the previous night, impaled on the vibrating post, moaning and twisting and thrashing.

  “I wanted to see how much entertainment you got out of my generosity last night,” he said.

  The image changed, and she saw herself pulling free of the restraints, pulling herself off the post, and then disappearing out of the camera's view.

  The flog whipped out and snapped down across her back. The stinging pain was considerably worse than the previous flog he'd used, and Hannah screamed and writhed against the sudden onslaught of pain.

  Yet even with the pain came the dark heat she'd experienced more and more of late. The flog cut across her breasts, straining tight against her body, across her flat belly, across her back and then cruelly, overhand, sliced down between her spreadeagled legs to snap and bite against the soft flesh of her abdomen and pussy.

  For a long minute Hannah writhed and screamed as the blows came quickly, her mind swirling into confusion and dazed alarm as the pain bit at her again and again. But as the blows continued the heat of pain began to shift as the darkness spread out from her mind, and the sexual submissive O'Neil had been wakening began to greet each fresh strike with a sense of elation and hunger.

  Even so, she became dazed and breathless with the continued flogging, so that when he paused to question her it took long seconds to get her mind to function well enough to reply.

  “Tell me where you went, slave,” he demanded.

  Fortunately, the lie came readily to hand, since she had had it ready at the time.

  “I-I went to rest, master!” she cried.

  “To rest?! Did I tell you to rest? Did I not deliberately ensure you could NOT rest, slave?”

  She hesitated and the flog cut overhand and snapped down between her legs. The burst of pain was startlingly arousing even as she cried out and twisted against the restraints.

  “Answer me, slave.”

  “Y-Yes, master!” she cried.

  “Then why did you escape?”

  “I-I was tired, master!” was all shes had to offer.

  Naturally, it wasn't enough. The flog snapped down again and again, until she was breathless and dazed and every part of her torso was covered in small criss-crossing red lines. Strangely, while the pain was real enough, it didn't seem to matter as much as it used to. Her body was gripped by a torpid sexual hunger which only seemed to gain more strength as her abuse continued.

  “You are halfway through your training, slave,” he growled. “You should know better than to try to disobey my wishes.”

  “B-but my … my arm pulled free, master!” she cried.

  He glared but conceded the point. “In future, I assure you that will not happen. You will not be tempted to again escape from whatever punishment or fate I have decided upon.”

  He put the flog down and moved away. Shortly afterwards she felt her hair gripped and pulled back. Then a leather hood was forced over her head. It pulled down around her ears and under her jaw, then fastened tightly there. There was only one opening she could detect, over her mouth. A penis gag quickly pushed into her mouth, the strap covering the opening solidly.

  She then discovered there were other openings, however small, for she could breath through her nose. She was blind, however, and could, of course, not speak. Shortly after, small round objects were pushed into her ears, blocking her hearing.

  She groaned as she felt fingers at her sex, gasped and moaned as they caressed her aching sex lips, then spread them apart to insert – something. A dildo, she presumed, as it slid deep into her body. Another pushed into her backside, and then the buzzing began. She moaned weakly, not at all wanting to endure more endless orgasms!

  And then she heard the sounds of passion, of feminine moans and gasps, of whimpers and cries of pleasure. They were her own, and yet she was largely silent. They came not from her mouth but from the plugs he had pushed into her ears.

  “I am a slave, she heard her own voice say, passionately. “I am a sex slave!”

  She had no idea how long she was left like that, hanging upside down. Orgasms came and went, and her exhaustion and ache deepened. She slipped into a state of dazed semi-consciousness, writhing to the pleasure, but after a time, unthinking.

  She found herself flat on her back, but didn't care, and someone was atop her, thrusting into her body but again, that did not seem important. She had no idea who it was, nor did she care. She was in an exhausted haze, and she remained so for some time. She was mounted repeatedly, twisted, pulled, rearranged, penetrated in all three orifices, and suffered more draining, but wrenching orgasms, but it was all in darkness and with no sound but her own cries of passion coming through the earphones.

  “...slave. I am a slave! I am a sex slave!” she heard, again and again.

  The gag was pulled from her mouth, and she was allowed to drink, as well as to take food from someone's fingers. No one spoke to her. The only sounds were that of her own recorded passion. She was spanked and mounted. She was strapped and mounted. She was flogged and used, sometimes by one, sometimes by many. With no sound, no sight, nothing existed but touch, and the sensations which arose from that touch.

  She had no idea who used her body, nor did it occur to her to wonder about it. Hannah lived in an unthinking, dazed world of sensation. And any sensation which was good – was good. There was not a single thought in her head as to dignity or pride, morality or inhibition.

  When the first police officer found her, chained in the round room, spreadeagled, a very large dildo clearly penetrating both lower orifices, he was shocked, and yet manfully surpressed the sense of excitement he felt at the sight of such a beautiful creature of sex. That she had no face, no head, in fact, but a featureless mask, made that easy.

  His first thought was to release her, but if she fell, as seemed likely since she was almost hanging by her wrists, the objects protruding from her body might damage her. And so, hesitantly, he reached for the base of the large dildo protruding from her pussy. His thumb brushed lightly across her clitoris, and the female body, young, beautiful, athletic, arched sharply as a moan escaped it. Hips bucked eagerly forward, and he drew back with a shocked expression.

  And yet it was all too
clear that the sound which had come from the faceless female body was not that of despair or pain. He was a young man, true, but he had heard such sounds before. Swallowing uncertainly, he reached forward again, feeling the tightness of the grip of the flesh encircling the dildo. He pulled it out slowly, feeling his cock throb as the female body arched again, twisting and bucking.

  Helplessly, he looked behind him, then slid the thing back up inside her, his thumb deliberately stroking across her moist, swollen clitoris this time. He was rewarded with an even more obvious cry of muffled pleasure, and his cock hardened still further.

  Again, he looked behind him, then reached up to fondle firm, round breasts as his thumb began to stroke across the clitoris. The faceless female form bucked its hips forward desperately, grinding against him as his fingers encountered the second dildo.

  Heat lit up his eyes, for while happily married, his wife was a religious woman, a saint, he thought. There was no way he would ever have even proposed something so crude as anal sex with her, despite how it had occupied his fantasies for years.

  But now... now he had a female body with no face to it, a female body writhing in hunger and passion and lust, a female body of surpassing perfection with no eyes to record his presence. It was too much for him, and he pulled the dildo from the female's body and thrust his own cock eagerly up inside her. It was a hard, desperate thrusting which lasted less than a minute.

  Even so the body of the female writhed and bucked in passion as its muffled voice cried out in wild pleasure. He barely restrained himself from doing the same. Then, overcome with guilt and fear, thrust the dildo back inside and hurried away to let someone else discover her.