by S. J. Lewis
“You have lovely hair,” Kara commented. She had put aside the comb and was using a brush now. It felt good, but not enough to keep Gia from continuing to look into the mirror, trying to see where the men had gotten to. She had a sudden, irrational fear that they would be coming over to her.
They didn’t. As Kara was finishing up brushing her hair, she saw the men leaving. The guard followed after them. He had a small, slender woman in tow. All Gia could see of her was her back, and her long, black hair. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Kara misunderstood the sigh. “It does feel good, doesn’t it?” she purred into Gia’s ear. “I can do other things that feel even better.”
Gia shuddered. “I’m straight,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kara’s breath, warm and damp, tickled her ear maddeningly. “So was I, at first.” She laid the brush down. Her hands crept around to cup Gia’s breasts.
“No… please…” Gia protested.
“Shut up,” Kara whispered back. Gia could feel the blonde woman pressing up against her back, rubbing against her. “I just love your tits. I wish mine were that size.”
Gia would have been happy to swap with her, if that were even possible, if only to get Kara off of her back, both literally and figuratively.
“They’d have really gotten in the way of my volleyball game,” Kara sighed. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it? The only balls I get to play with now…”
“Stop it!” Gia hissed.
“Don’t be a silly little bitch,” Kara hissed back. “I can hurt you, too.” Her fingers sought out Gia’s nipples, and pinched hard. Gia whimpered. For some reason, she did not want to cry out, or scream, or call any attention to herself at all.
“All right,” she said. “All right. Just please don’t hurt me.”
“That’s better,” Kara chuckled throatily. “You’re learning.”
***
Life in the seraglio – that’s what Kara called it, though Gia had no idea what the word meant – took on a routine. All that was required of the women in it was to keep themselves attractive and clean. That was pretty much all that they were allowed to do as well, which meant that most of the time there was crushingly boring. On the occasions when some of them were taken elsewhere the time went from boring to awful and degrading. Small groups of women were regularly taken out to be exercised. Gia always found herself with five or six women close to her height and build, if not of her nationality or complexion. Most of their exercises were yoga routines, aimed at keeping them limber, but there was always at least one intense session that got them all gasping and sweating. They got to shower afterwards, and then were fed delicious meals, provided that they’d done all their exercises properly. Any woman who didn’t got what looked like whole-grain bread and water.
Kara always exercised with a different group. None of the women in that group were as tall as she was, but all of them looked just as athletic. At first, Gia had welcomed the times when Kara was away, but that wore off quickly. It seemed that none of the other women in the seraglio spoke anything resembling English. The only pastime permitted in the chamber was playing chess. Gia did not know how to play chess, and had no urge to learn. Kara might be domineering and aggressive, but at least she was someone that Gia knew and could speak with.
Not that conversation was encouraged in the seraglio. There were always guards roaming through the chamber. They broke up any obvious conversations, sometimes with short whips or bamboo rods. They also stepped in whenever two or more women started to get too obvious in their physical affections. A little kissing and fondling seemed to be allowed, but not much else. Kara seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to those guards. She always knew just when to break off what they were doing, and just when to start back up. Gia didn’t like most of what Kara did to her, and she hated what the tall blonde made her do, but she was also more than a little afraid of the woman. Kara had a cruel streak and a vivid imagination when it came to inflicting pain any time Gia balked.
Women in the seraglio were allowed to wear things. Most of what they were allowed to wear was jewelry, most of it ornate and some of it garish. What clothes they were allowed were mostly gauzy and transparent. Gia had found a pair of harem pants that fit her, but Kara had refused to let her wear them. All that she allowed Gia was a veil that hid absolutely nothing and some anklets with tiny silver bells on them.
Worst of all for Gia were the times she was taken from the seraglio for more ‘training’ or to be displayed to potential customers. She had learned painfully all the words of command that they used here, even if they weren’t in English. Usually she was led into some small, windowless room and made to get on all fours in front of one or more strange men. On command she would arch her back, spread her legs wider, or do whatever else she was told to do. She would hold perfectly still while the strange men inspected her body. They always seemed fascinated by her breasts, and would fondle and squeeze them as if to assure themselves that those lovely globes of flesh were real. Some were equally fascinated by her pussy, which was kept clean-shaven. Kara herself had commented on how ‘pretty’ it was.
Sometimes, all Gia had to endure was the gawking and fondling, or the long talks between a guard and a potential customer as she obediently stayed in place on her hands and knees. She was certain that they were discussing her body, even if she never understood a word.
If a customer became particularly interested, it got worse. If her body had met some customer’s initial criteria, the next step was for her to submit to sex. It was then that she felt most like some prize animal. Most times, she would remain on all fours while the man took her from behind. There was almost always some hair-pulling and ass-slapping to go along with that. And, as hard as she tried not to show any physical reaction at all, sooner or later her body would betray her and she would moan or cry out. The men always took their pleasure of her. She came exactly once during those sessions. Every other time, she was left hanging, her head sagging down as she panted and whined and moaned. At least the men used lubricants and condoms when they did that to her.
Sometimes, the men wanted her to suck them off. Then, Gia would kneel in front of them with her wrists bound behind her with silken rope. If she did not show the appropriate level of cock-worship, the guard would bring a thin bamboo cane down across her ass. It always stung like fire. The men never used condoms then. As much as Gia hated fellatio, she became very, very good at it, just to spare herself punishment. She could even swallow everything that spurted into her mouth now, though she hated that above everything else. And always, after the man had taken his pleasure, she must look up at him and thank him, and offer to lick his cock clean whether it had been in her mouth or in her pussy.
It was far worse when more than one man wanted to evaluate her.
Afterwards, she was allowed to bathe, given some morsel of food and perhaps a sip or two of wine as a reward, and then led back to the seraglio to wait for the next customer or the next exercise routine. Kara was always there to welcome her back, and brush her hair, and demand, in surreptitious, whispered conversation, to know what it had been like, in painful and humiliating detail. The tall blonde really seemed to get off on that.
Kara was sometimes taken out for a customer to evaluate and try out. There was always a steely glint in her eye when she was summoned. It was always gone when she was brought back. Sometimes, one of the guards had to all but carry her back. She was always weak and shaky when she returned. Usually there were deep, red rope marks on her wrists and ankles. Often there were angry red welts on her ass and thighs. Less often there were similar welts across her belly and shoulders. Rarely, there were some across her breasts. Gia always wondered what could reduce Kara’s tight, toned, athletic body to trembling weakness, but she never asked and Kara never told her. Whenever Kara was brought back in that condition, Gia always tended her carefully, even brushing Kara’s hair as Kara brushed hers, until she was able to care for herself again. She su
spected that something about the way Kara carried herself, something about the Olympian fitness of her body, prompted men to try very hard to break her. Another possibility was that Kara actually wanted to be cruelly mistreated in that way. Gia tried very hard not to think about that possibility.
Chapter Nine
“Up, Gia. Up!”
Even in her sleep, Gia could recognize the voice of her trainer. As sleepy as she felt, she scrambled into the position he usually wanted her to take: Kneeling, with her ass resting on her heels and her hands on the floor in front of her. She looked up at him, awaiting further commands. As she did, she noticed that the windows up above were dark. It must be nighttime. That would explain why all of the inmates of the seraglio seemed to be sound asleep. The room was dimly lit. They never let it get completely dark in here.
“Good girl,” her trainer grinned down at her. “Now stand up and strip naked, little Gia. You’re coming with me.”
Gia’s heart sank. She had gotten used to being undisturbed while she slept through the night. It was one of the few small pleasures she had been permitted, and now it looked like that was being taken away too. But she knew better than to complain about it. That would only earn her punishment, which could be anything from a caning to being strung up by her wrists until she was screaming and sobbing in pain. Gia hadn’t actually suffered that last punishment herself, but she’d been forced to witness another woman suffer it, along with several other inmates of the seraglio. It had served as an object lesson to all of them. The lesson was further driven home when the punished woman had been taken away afterwards, never to be seen again.
She pulled the veil off and then carefully removed her anklets so that the tiny bells wouldn’t ring and maybe waken Kara. That done, she remained on her knees and bent over, crossing her wrists behind her, and waited.
“Just stand up, Gia, and follow me,” her trainer said. He turned and began to walk away. Gia quickly got to her feet and followed him as he’d ordered. They didn’t need ropes, or collars, or leashes to move her any more. And her trainer was so certain that she would obey that he didn’t even look around to see if she was following. Gia shuddered. Had she already been reduced to an obedient animal? But what else could she do? She still had no idea where in the world she was. It felt like she was at the opposite side of the globe from her house and her servants and her club and her shopping, but for all she knew she could be only a couple of miles from there.
As she followed her trainer out through the doorway she realized that she was walking in exactly the way they had taught her to, putting each foot directly in front of the other. It wasn’t a natural way of walking. It made her hips tick from side to side like a metronome. She was sure that the guards at the door were watching her. There was nothing she could do about it. Any man could see everything she had any time that they wanted, and there was nothing she could do about that. Any man could fuck her any time he wanted, and there was nothing she could do about that either. She felt like crying, but she had no tears left.
She recognized which way they were going, and she began to feel physically ill. They were headed towards the special rooms where potential buyers inspected and evaluated naked, helpless women. That always included fucking them or making them suck cock. The fucking she could endure. The sucking was something that she had to endure: Feeling that thick, throbbing tube probing her mouth, waiting for the inevitable spurts of thick, salty cum to fill her mouth, and then having to swallow all of it and then thank her attacker for it and offer to lick him clean. She shuddered. Worst of all, at least this time, was that she’d been woken from sleep – the only peace she knew in this place – to service yet another man. Or would it be men? She shuddered again. She wanted to turn and run away, screaming. She didn’t dare. As much as she dreaded what she would be made to do soon, she dreaded what they might do to her if she refused even more. She just followed along after her trainer, bound now by nothing but those formless fears, her head held high, her shoulders thrown back, and her hips ticking away.
“In here.” Her trainer opened a door and pointed. Gia didn’t meet his eyes as she walked through the doorway.
There was a round mat on the floor. She went over and stood right in the middle of it, exactly as she had been trained to do, and focused her eyes on a single black spot in the middle of one of the beige-painted walls, exactly as she had been trained to do. Only then did she begin to notice anything else in the room.
There was never any furniture, aside from the round mat. But there were always men. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two of them, standing in a corner and looking her over with interest. One of them wore dark sunglasses. He looked like a bodyguard. So many of the men who came here wore sunglasses that she had learned to recognize the type. The other… he was tall, and swarthy, and big. He stood with his massive arms crossed above a big, protruding belly. He had a wide, piratical mustache, but no beard. The suit he wore looked expensive, but it fit him badly. The glint in his eye was unmistakable. Gia gulped. Whoever he was, he must have considerable influence to make them bring him a woman outside of normal ‘business’ hours.
She heard the door close. A moment later, her trainer was standing close to her, running his hands over her naked body, and talking. She didn’t recognize any of the words, but she knew that he was rattling off the usual sales pitch, pointing out all the finer points of her. He fondled her ass, squeezed her breasts, and stroked her thighs. Gia kept still, though she wanted more than ever to flee. But the door was certainly locked, and even if it wasn’t and she somehow got out of the room, there was absolutely nowhere to go once she’d done that. She shivered as her trainer tweaked her nipples. For all of her training, she just couldn’t remain motionless when he did that.
Her trainer completed the rote introduction and said something to the big man. He grunted and nodded and came over to stand right in front of Gia. She tried to keep looking straight ahead. He was much taller than she was. She tried to focus on the third button down from the top on his shirt. This close, his bulk felt distinctly menacing. Gia had to fight an urge to back away. She felt herself trembling, almost imperceptibly.
The big man put a thick, stubby finger under her chin and lifted so that she had to look up into his eyes. They were a predator’s eyes, cold and cruel. She saw the lust in them and couldn’t help whimpering. He smiled at that, but it was the smile of a cat to a crippled mouse. She felt his hands go to her breasts, testing their weight, feeling their softness and warmth. Her trainer barked a command at her, and she obediently clasped her hands behind her head. In spite of the growing, gnawing fear she felt, she managed to hold still as the big man ran his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. She held still as he ran his hands up and down along her flanks, from her hips to her armpits.
The big man said something without taking his eyes off of hers. Gia couldn’t take her eyes off of his, either. Something terrible was in those eyes, and it scared her. She was sure that he knew it, and that he liked seeing her fear. Her skin began crawling wherever he touched her.
Her trainer barked the order for her to spread her legs. She obeyed, but couldn’t help whimpering again. She felt those blunt, powerful fingers prodding and probing at her pussy, spreading the fleshy lips. She shuddered violently, but still could not look away from those soulless eyes. She could feel herself growing wet, and once more silently cursed her body for betraying her to an enemy. He would have to think that she was responding to him, when it was only her body, acting on its own.
The big man’s smile widened, showing sharp white teeth. He took his hand from her pussy and wiped his finger off across Gia’s face, just below her nose. She could smell her own scent. Finally, she was able to break her gaze. She looked down and away from the big man. She heard him laugh. It was an unpleasant sound.
Her tormenter turned his head and said something to Gia’s trainer. She heard him laugh. It was almost as unpleasant a sound as the big man’s.
The big m
an’s bodyguard moved around behind her. She felt him grab her wrists and pull them down behind her. A moment later she felt him tying her hands and she groaned. She knew what was coming, as surely as she knew that the sun came up in the morning.
Her trainer barked out another command, and Gia sank to her knees on the pad. She could see the big man fumbling with his pants and hoped that at least he’d bathed or showered recently.
His cock was as massive as he was, and it was already erect. It had a pronounced upward curve to it, and it looked as thick as her wrist. Gia rose up slowly to take the swollen, purplish head into her mouth. She heard the big man groan with pleasure as her lips closed around it and she began to suck. She could smell his musk even with her own scent still under her nose. His cock tasted only faintly of sweat. She bent her head and took him in more deeply. The curve of his cock meant that it kept brushing against the roof of her mouth, but after all of the ‘training’ they’d forced on her she had very little gag reflex left. She closed her eyes and concentrated on pleasing the big man. It was little more than a mechanical exercise to her now.
Then someone pressed up close behind her and hands reached around to squeeze her breasts. Gia’s eyes flew open wide, and she made a muffled noise of surprise. She couldn’t turn her head – she was effectively impaled on the big man’s cock – but out of the corner of her eye she saw her trainer standing off to the side, watching her perform. It had to be the big man’s bodyguard who was rubbing up against her and mauling her breasts. For a moment she lost her rhythm. She got it back with an effort and kept on sucking, even when the bodyguard began pinching her nipples. She moaned and complained around the cock in her mouth, but kept on sucking, desperate now to make the big man come so this torture would end. It would end then, wouldn’t it? It had to.