by Jack Norman
Sara didn’t know how long she had lain there; she had no means of her telling. It must have been mid-morning or maybe noon when Georgy Nikitin had finally sated his lust and left her. When he had gone, she had waited for some time, utterly exhausted, and then she had groped her way to the shower cubicle about one metre away from the bed. Somehow she had managed to find and turn on the unfamiliar faucet and take a shower. The water had been shockingly cold but, nonetheless, it was good to wash away the grime and slime of two heavy fucks, and she then fumbled for the towel, dried herself, and returned shivering to her bed. After a while, as warmth returned, she had drifted into a fitful sleep, occasionally awakening frightened in the dark and then calming herself and drifting off again. Later she awoke and lay silent with her thoughts. In that sealed basement room, she could not even tell if there was still daylight outside. She simply lay there, naked and chained, and mulled over the totally unexpected and overwhelming events of the day. Borzov’s men held her passport; she had no her clothes and possessions there; in effect, she had volunteered to be their prisoner. Her belly was deliciously aflutter at the prospect of such a game of voluntary servitude.
After some time, suddenly and without any warning, the room was flooded with bright light. She blinked and shielded her eyes with her cuffed wrists. The door opened and two men entered. They were young, younger than her, and they had the arrogant swagger of youth. She lay, as if transfixed, as they gazed down at her body.
“So, this is Borzov’s latest bitch,” one of them said. He reached to grasp her chained wrists and hoisted them away from her breasts. “Sara Smithson. She’s American, Georgy said.”
“Does she speak Russian?”
“Yes, I do,” Sara said.
The other man roughly smacked her across the upper thigh with the flat of his hand. “He wasn’t talking to you, cunt,” he said. “Only speak when you are spoken to.”
The man who held her wrists yanked her them higher. “Kneel on the bed, spread your legs wide and keep your arms high above your head.”
Sara hurried to comply, facing the two men. She kept her arms in position when the man relaxed his grip on her wrists, even when he whipped his fingers across her breasts.
“Don’t look any of us in the face, ever,” he ordered. He waited until she had lowered her eyes. “Now, listen up. My name is Sasha, and this is Leo. We are your trainers. You’ll learn how it works here: first the Boss, then Georgy, and then Leo and me …your chain of command. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“You must address us and the other trainers as ‘sir’,” Leo said affably.
“Yes, sir,” Sara said with a chuckle. Sir? Two Russian meathead kids four or five years younger than me? LOL.
“Oh yeah, there are other trainers, supervising other bitches. And others in the Boss’s team too, answerable to us, taking our orders. See? You are at the very bottom. You take orders from everyone. You are everybody’s cunt.”
“There are other women here, sir?”
“Are you stupid? You think this is a fucking monastery? Borzov’s Bitches…plural. The boss likes plenty of pretty and obedient cunts.”
Leo smiled slightly at Sasha’s crude terminology. He said: “You are now part of Mr Borzov’s stable of beautiful bitches. We trainers use this basement as our base. Some bitches come and go, but you remain here until Mr Borzov says different. It is constantly guarded and entirely secure. It’s as simple as this: if someone has access to this basement, then you obey them. You serve anyone who demands it here.”
“For the time being though,” Sasha hastily intervened, glaring at Leo, “except for the Boss, Georgy, Leo and me, you are restricted to sucking cocks or licking cunts. As for Leo and me, we can fuck you as much as we like. We are responsible for your training. For the others... pfftt... just suck their cocks, but we want no complaints from them. You see the chair?” He pointed to the only item of furniture in the room besides the bed. “When anyone comes and sits on that chair, you get up and go to work. Don’t wait to be told. You know much about sucking cocks?”
Sara grinned. “I’ve had my moments, sir.”
“You’ll be taught pretty damned quick anyway,” Sasha said.
“You can only learn by doing it,” Leo said, “but we’ll make sure you get plenty of practice. For the next week, besides anything Mr Borzov or Georgy requires, you must give at least five blow jobs a day. I suggest you use that time to get to know everything you can about a man’s genitals.”
“Do your job well, cunt. We will punish you for disobedience or disrespect,” Sasha said.
“Oh yes, sir, of course.”
“She must learn what to do with a man’s balls as well as his cock,” Sasha said.
Sara wasn’t certain if he was still talking to her, so she remained silent. Leo looked across at his colleague and smiled slightly. Leo seemed the more friendly and educated of the two, but he shocked Sara when he calmly said, “Sure, she can start learning now. You first, Sasha?”
“Okay,” Sasha said with small shrug, removing his jacket and immediately beginning to unbutton his jeans.
Leo said to Sara. “Do it now.”
Sasha had shrugged his jeans down round his ankles. He then shuffled to sit on the chair beside the door, his bare knees splayed, shirt gathered up to clear the way to his semi-erect cock. Sara pulled a face but climbed from the bed and knelt at his feet. The chain reached that far.
“Remove his shoes and pants,” Leo instructed. “You have to get between his legs.”
Sara obeyed, pulling off the shoes without undoing the laces, and laying them one beside the other. She then pulled off Sasha’s jeans and reached to lay them on the bed. One thing about that room, she thought, was that everything was in fairly easy reach. She shuffled forward to kneel between the spread legs, eying the large cock as it lay in half-repose.
“Okay,” said Leo, “there is a cock-sucking routine we make you follow. You must always start by licking a cock with slow strokes, every inch of the shaft until it is hard. Do it.” Sara swallowed hard but she leaned forward, reaching to encircle the base of the cock with her small hand. Then she began to lick the rubbery flesh with her tongue, working with slow, rasping strokes, tasting the faint saltiness of his silky skin, moving from base to tip. She marvelled to herself as the shaft became rigid beneath her tongue and in her hand. “Now, you take his balls in your mouth, one at a time. Let your tongue caress it, roll it round in your mouth.” Sara fancied that she heard Sasha moan as she worked on his balls, and he certainly squirmed a little on the chair.
Sara’s heart was thudding and she could feel a swirl of headily fragrant heat in her cunt. There was something about being made to suck cock under supervision that turned her on. I’m going to enjoy this game LOL.
She continued licking Saasha’s balls until Leo ordered: “Now, take his cock into your mouth. Roll your tongue round the head. Then stroke your mouth up and down on the cock. Try to get it as deep as you can.” The fingers of both of Sasha’s hand were now entwined in Sara’s hair, and he manipulated her head back and forth, each time forcing the cock further towards the back of he throat. She tried, but each time the cock touched the sensitive entrance to her throat, she instinctively pulled back against the hands in her hair.
“Gah, the cunt is resisting,” Sasha said, yanking on her head again and making her gag.
“Try again, Sara,” Leo said. After a few more strokes, he ordered: “Okay, now do his balls again.”
Leo kept Sara working like this for the next 20 minutes, alternating between sucking the shaft and sucking the balls. All the time he kept instructing her, telling her how to use her tongue more, when to suck, when to hum to herself to vibrate her lips around the cock. Finally, he said, “Okay, bring him off, Sara. Suck like fuck.” Sara went to work with gusto, bobbing her head back and forth, trying to take the cock more deeply with every stroke, until she was able to nestle her nose briefly in the nest of hair at his lower stomach.
Then she heard Sasha grunt, and she felt the cock spasm in her mouth. Cum shot into her throat in throbbing spurts, and she spluttered as she tried to swallow it. She pulled her head back and gasped for air.
“Good,” Leo said, as trails of viscous cum escaped from Sara’s mouth and ran down her chin. Then, to Sasha, he asked: “How was she?
“I’ve had better cocksuckers , you for one.”
Leo laughed and began to remove his clothes. Unlike Sasha, he removed everything, even his socks, before he sat on the vacated chair. Without awaiting instruction, Sara immediately went to work on Leo’s already tumescent cock. It was longer, but narrower than Sasha’s, Sara thought. Leo seemed pleased with her, because he stroked her hair as she licked up and down on his turgid shaft, and when she took his balls into her mouth, one by one, she heard him sigh contentedly. Vaguely, behind her, she could hear Sasha getting dressed again.
“Okay,” Leo said, “get as much of my cock in your mouth as you can. I want you to get the head to the very back of your mouth at least a dozen times. Understand?”
Sara did her best. Her jaw was beginning to ache with such unaccustomed exercise. She concentrated on just the first 4 or 5 inches of the shaft, and occasionally taking a deeper stroke, bracing her against the moment when it struck the opening of her throat. She mentally counted half a dozen of such strokes and hoped that would satisfy him, but he ordered her to greater efforts. He kept her working for the next 15 minutes, eventually rewarding her with a thick wad of cum. “That was quite good,” Leo said, encouragingly as he withdrew his cock. “You will get better.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sara said.
“Ach, you just get off on dealing with new sluts, Leo,” Sasha said. “You like to overcome their initial reluctance by using your masculine charm. It’s like foreplay to you.”
Leo chuckled and stroked Sara’s hair. “It’s true. I prefer a new slave before she becomes a cynical and experienced slut like all the rest.”
Slave? The very word jolted Sara. She hadn’t previously heard it used there. However, even as she considered this, she knew that the word was apt. She had become Boss Borzov’s slave!
“Well, Americanski Sara,” Sasha was saying to her, leaning forward to bite the flesh of her right breast, “don’t be fooled by Leo. His cane hurts just as much as everyone else’s, despite his apparent charm.”
She squealed in pain, and when he glanced down there was a red imprint of his teeth on her breast.
“Cane?” she asked weakly, wiping her lips with the back of one hand and rubbing her breast with the other.
“Sasha likes to bite. But as he said, we will punish you for disobedience or disrespect, and with me that usually means the cane.”
“O M G,” Sara breathed, and she thought she was going to orgasm there and then.
In his office, unbeknown to Sara or the two aides, Viktor Borzov sipped a glass of fine red wine as he watched his beautiful new bitch sucking Sasha’s cock. He’d appointed the two young men as Sara’s slave trainers, and knew they wouldn’t take too long before they tried her out. He saw the wolf-like way that Leo and Sasha looked at each other. They were an odd pair, certainly more in love with each other than with the girls they broke in, but no less lacking in heterosexual ardour for that. Still, they always turned a bitch out, and this one was particularly promising.
He noted the way that the girl knelt compliantly without trying to wipe cum away from her chin and breasts. A half smile always seemed to play on the corner of her mouth. She seemed cocky, a bit arrogant, thinking she was secretly in control. The Boss had seen the type before. He would enjoy teaching the real game to Sara Smithson. An American girl with a Russian mother, and an inquisitive submissive too... Quite a find! She would make an excellent pupil. He must remember to send a gift and his best regards to Professor Zeldov.
IV
Sara sat at the mirror in her small room, carefully applying a lip gloss that was far too red for her usual tastes. Not that she had any choice in the matter. She was watched critically by Sasha, who had brought the deeply slashed and slinky red dress she now wore... no underwear, just the dress and dark stockings and red shoes with heels so high that it was like walking on crampons. Still, she had been kept naked since her arrival, so the red dress was a welcome change. It had a cowl top that threatened to reveal her breasts with every movement, and the tight fitting skirt over her hips gave way to a knee-leng wrap-over that was split to her crotch when pulled aside. It felt very sophisticated and sexy.
Sasha, lean as a whip and gloomy as hell, was very particular about her appearance. He himself had that sallow beauty that Russian youths often have, with a slender white neck and a prominent Adam’s apple, high cheek bones, full lips and soft long eyelashes. He wore cosmetics too, and fussed knowledgeably behind Sara as she applied her makeup. FFS, gay slave trainers, LOL. He brushed some colour onto her eyelids and then attended to her long blonde hair, piling it high and teasing out a few stray wisps. She gasped when he produced a sapphire choker from his pocket, as if it was a mere trinket, and locked it snugly around her neck.
“That’s good,” he murmured, producing a long slender chain from his other pocket and snapping it onto her collar.
Leashed! Sara’s heart missed a couple of beats and her pussy felt as though it had turned to warm liquid. Her nipples were throbbing and pressing hard against the thin red fabric of her gown, and her stocking lissom legs were revealed to the high thigh with each step. She loved it as Sasha to lead her across the grim basement to the elevator and up to Borzov’s penthouse suite. When she arrived there, Sara was surprised to find that it was after dark. The Boss was sitting in an armchair, looking out at the moonlit Moscow skyline. A middle-aged man, presumably a guest, was seated opposite with a beautiful black girl in a white dress who knelt at his feet, and his eyes swept slowly over Sara’s red-clad body as she was led into the room.
“This is Sara, Boss,” Sasha said unnecessarily, reaching to unclip the leash.
Borzov said nothing. The other man rose to his feet and approached as Sasha coiled the leash and returned it to his pocket. Sasha stepped back to stand beside the elevator.
“So this is your new American cunt,” the man said, gazing at Sara’s breasts, which were scarcely covered by the deeply slashed cowl. He turned to Borzov. “May I, Viktor?”
“Of course, Dom.” The Boss gave a small wave of his hand as if disinterested, but he eyed Sara keenly all the same.
Sara stared at the guest in open-jawed surprise. She recognised him instantly. He was an internationally-known politician whose mugshot had frequently featured in gossip columns and tabloid pages of late. Of course, I should have known. A fabulously wealthy person like Borzov can be expected to have famous friends. The man’s clean and fresh eau de cologne wafted over her flaring nostrils as he stepped closer. He looked different from his photographs, shorter and older. His designer casual clothes were perhaps too casual and too designer, as if he were tying too hard. What next? He was the sort of ridiculous man her mother would have disparagingly dismissed as an area sales manager of salesman travelling in ladies’ underwear. He looked like someone from low and disreputable beginnings that had somehow made good.
Dom’s hand was on the swell of her bottom, and he briefly pulled her skirt aside, revealing the lacy black stocking band on her thigh. Then he flipped the skirt back in place and reached inside the top of her dress, cupping her breast in an assured way that told Sara he expected to handle her without complaint. To her surprise, she found herself blushing hotly as he hefted and squeezed her flesh and nipped the nipple.
“Very nice,” he said to Borzov, pulling the loose red fabric aside to reveal her right breast and rolling the teat between finger and thumb. “Her nipples should take a good size ring. What about her cunt lips?”
“Show him,” the Boss ordered. When Sara hesitated, he added sternly, “Don’t make me tell you again, Sara.”
She sighed inwardly and stooped to gather the
hem of her skirt, lifting it slowly to expose the soft, freshly-oiled and glistening folds of her pussy. The black girl watched with wide brown eyes as the man reached to run his hands over Sara’s plump nether lips. Dom spoke very precise and grammatically correct English with a marked foreign accent. “I see that she is freshly depilated.” He thrust his finger inside her cunt sheath and frowned. “She’s dry though.”
“My man has just prepared and bathed her.”
“I prefer them unwashed and fragrant.” He rubbed his fingers on the recently-oiled petals of her cunt and then pushed inside her again. “Beautifully tight though. Were I the owner of this cunt, Viktor, I would have her labia majora pierced and ringed. It’s entirely up to you, of course.”
“I have my plans for her, Dom, rest assured.”
Dom’s finger withdrew from her pussy, only to press against the rose of her anus. She steeled herself and gave a small mewl of discomfort when it pushed past the ring. “Hmmm, maybe too tight here... almost an anal virgin, I’d say.”
“I’m told not.”
Sara felt herself blushing to her roots. She found herself wondering what her mother might say if she saw her standing like this, handled like a gauche filly.
“Caress yourself,” Dom murmured.
She blinked. She had never done anything like that in front of anyone else. She dropped the hem of her skirt and stammered: “I- I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know very well,” Dom said, cruelly pinching the underbelly of her breast. “Raise your skirt again, and let me see you masturbate.”
Sara hesitated and glanced firstly at the black girl, who smiled and licked her lips like a kitten, and then at Borzov, who eyed her stony-faced. Sara sighed. She had no option but to obey. Dom snapped his fingers impatiently. Resignedly, she stooped to grasp the hem of her skirt again and lifted it very slowly. Then, holding the fabric of her skirt bunched at her navel, she reached to run the forefinger of her other hand along the slit of her cunt. He snapped his fingers again, and she pushed back the fleshy hood of her clitoris, pressing against the erect nubbin there.