by Sarah Fisher
It had been her spirit that had endeared Leonora to Johnson. The Turk had assured him she was unbreakable and had insisted on bringing out the rest of his slave stock for Johnson's perusal. This, he had assured Johnson, was the way that women should behave. Real women, women who understood what was expected of them. In the cramped confines of the Turk's house Johnson had inspected a string of broken women, including one mental defective who it was obvious had been trained from childhood onward to see her whole life only in terms of the pleasure her body could give to the Turk and his customers. The Turk was proud of her, rubbing her heavy pendulous breasts like another man might pet a dog. She had responded by rubbing her thick odorous sex against him, whining pitifully while her mouth worked at the bulge beneath the Turk's great belly.
All the time the Turk paraded his mongrel bitches, Johnson had surreptitiously watched the girl on the bed, so unhappy, but resolutely awaiting her fate. She was quite obviously far above the Turks's normal standard of girls, though he was reluctant to explain how he had come by her.
When, finally, the Turk had exhausted his supply of slaves, Johnson had turned his attentions again to the Eurasian girl on the bed. He had explored her gently, touching the delicate almost hairless lips of her sex, opening her thighs, exploring the tight confines of her backside with an oiled finger tip whilst across the room her master had stood by, eyes on his girl, mouth slack.
When Johnson had her untied she had scurried across to him like a saviour, pressing her bruised lips to his fingers. Her Turkish master had been stunned and only too eager to close a sale.
Johnson had bought her the same way he had many of the other girls; a willing commodity only too eager to escape from a closed oppressive culture to the heady opportunities of Deuvar. A great shame he couldn't have been more discerning with his male employees.
Now Leonora indicated the guest lounge. "We have a floor show this evening, or music in the ballroom. Would you like me to arrange a table?"
Johnson shook his head, thinking about the way Leonora seemed now; a queen, in command, an employee with unshakeable loyalty. "I don't think so. Has the video tape arrived of Emily Lawrence yet?"
"I'm afraid not." Leonora paused, looking slightly ill at ease. She glanced over her shoulder. "Would you like me have one of the girls bring you some champagne? I don't wish to appear rude, but I do have another matter to attend to."
Johnson lifted an eyebrow in rebuke. "What other matter is so important that you have to run away from me, Leonora?"
The Eurasian woman bit her lip. "It is Kai, one of our most trusted girls. She was involved in Emily's escape attempt."
Curiosity awakened, Johnson encouraged her to continue. "Intentionally?"
Leonora shook her head. "No. Carelessness, but really she should have known better. She's earned a position of trust here and I think, perhaps, let it go to her head."
Johnson smiled. "I see." He considered the possibilities for an instant. "A disciplinary matter then?"
Leonora, immediately following his train of thought, nodded. "Perhaps you might like to ensure the punishment is correctly administered?" She indicated the corridor that led to her offices. "I really would like to get this over as soon as possible."
Johnson smiled. "My pleasure," he said under his breath. Still leading his own slave girl, he fell into step behind Leonora. He paused for a second mid-stride. "Have you heard from the Haroldsons?"
Leonora shook her head. "No. But, after all, they did have sole rights to Emily for a full day. I imagine they are fully occupied."
"Perhaps," said Johnson, ignoring her comment, "you might like to contact them and invite them to join us. It wouldn't do Emily any harm to understand what happens when one of our girls breaks the rules."
"Of course," said Leonora.
Naked, Emily Lawrence crouched in the footwell of the chauffeur driven car. Naomi Haroldson was dressed once again in her stunning evening dress, and had added a full length mink coat. She sat arm in arm with her husband. Beside them both sat Franz, his hand casually slipped through the leash to Emily's collar.
Emily's mind was muddled, still full of hot feverish images of Franz's body and Naomi's caresses. Between her legs her sex was throbbing; a dark heady mix of pleasure and an aching tenderness. On her buttocks the sting of the brand mark made every movement uncomfortable.
Her rational mind couldn't quite grasp what had happened to her, but the instinctive animal half knew only too well. She had been taken, she had submitted – and she relished it. There was a peculiar sensation of elation deep inside her. Her body was no longer hers, owned instead by the masters of Deuvar.
She had expected to stay at the Haroldson's guest cottage until the following day and was surprised when Naomi had announced they had been invited to the main hall.
The car moved slowly up the drive. Outside, the frost gave everything a strange magical quality, echoing the odd feeling Emily had in her belly. At the elegant main entrance to the mansion the car pulled to a halt and the occupants climbed out into the starlit night. Emily was hardly aware of the cold or the sensation of the gravel beneath her feet.
Franz tightened his hold on the leash and she wondered if he thought that she might try and make a run for it. If he did, he had wildly underestimated the effect he had on her. Instinctively she fell behind, letting Naomi, her husband and Franz take the lead. With eyes downcast, she followed them into the warm confines of Deuvar.
She shivered when she saw that the guard on duty was Birdie. He eyed her speculatively, grinning. She wondered if he could sense the change in her.
Naomi Haroldson barely glanced at him. "We have been invited up to Leonora's office," she said flatly, as she handed her coat to an attentive doorman.
Birdie nodded. "They are expecting you, Mrs Haroldson. If you'd like to follow me."
The little group walked in silence through the opulent house up to Leonora's rooms. Outside the panelled door, Birdie glanced at Franz and then Emily.
"Would you like me to take her for you, sir?" Birdie said, extending his hand, glittering eyes lingering on Emily's body.
Franz nodded.
An instant later Leonora opened the door for the party and signalled to Birdie. "Get Kai for me."
Emily noticed that the Eurasian woman didn't even look in her direction.
When the door closed again Birdie grinned. "Back early," he sneered. Emily bit her lip. Birdie continued, "You know why they've brought you back, don't you? They're going to punish Kai for your little escapade. I reckon they think it'll teach you a lesson. I told you what she can expect."
Emily shivered and then looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said on a whispered breath.
Birdie looked at her quizzically, ignoring the fact that she had broken the rule of silence. It was quite obviously not the response he had expected. "Sorry?"
Emily nodded. Her mind had been racing since she had been to the Haroldsons. "Peter Howard used to come here, didn't he," she said flatly, the words spoken as a statement, not a question.
Birdie was still eyeing her suspiciously. "Yeah, he did. He was the guy you were engaged to, right?"
"Yes." She paused for a second, thinking about Peter's face and the bright flame of desire she had seen in his eyes when they had first met. Peter's features merged and changed slowly into those of Franz, Naomi Haroldson, even Johnson's. She glanced up at Birdie. Her voice was unsteady and full of emotion.
"Peter saw something in me that I didn't know was there. It's almost as if he meant me to come to Deuvar, if I hadn't come here, then he would have trained me in the same way. Peter wanted to be my master as well as my husband." A single bright crystal tear rolled down her cheek. "He understood me better than I did myself."
Birdie coughed, his expression unfathomable. "I've got to fetch Kai," he said.
Emily nodded. "If I'd understood I wouldn't have tried to escape," she said in a voice so low that she might almost have been speaking to herself.
Birdie said nothing, instead he turned and pulled her towards the stairs that led to the cells.
Emily sniffed miserably. Peter had recognised her natural instinct for submission. Her only regret was that it had been Deuvar and not Peter who had shown her. With Peter she would have willingly complied, without the need for Leonora's harsh introduction to the pleasures of obedience.
At the door to the detention cell Emily let out a long muffled sob as she saw Kai inside. Kai was hanging from the chains set in the ceiling. Her elegant dress was in shreds, hair tangled, face streaked with tears. A thin trail of glistening semen trickled down her thighs. Her lithe body was covered in bruises and scratches. When Birdie had told Emily that a lot of people wanted to see Kai fall she hadn't realised quite what he meant.
As Birdie unlocked the cell door Emily broke free of him and ran inside, pulled up short a split second later by a sharp tug on her leash.
"I'm so sorry," Emily murmured to Kai, lifting her hand to stroke the other girl's face.
Kai looked up at her and smiled grimly. Her lips were swollen, cheeks criss crossed by deep purple bruises.
"I told you it wasn't worth trying. You should have believed me." Her voice was cracked and uneven. Emily glanced at Birdie, who was unrolling the hose from the wall. She stared at him in horror, remembering the cutting, stinging icy blast.
"Please," she began. "Don't!"
Impassively, Birdie carried on. "Leonora will want her clean." He looked her up and down. "You of all people should know the importance of obeying the rules. Don't you remember the first one is supposed to be silence?"
Before Emily could reply he turned the tap on full blast, not just drenching Kai but Emily as well. Struggling in her restraints Kai screamed as the water roared over both girls. Birdie grinned lasciviously as Emily spun round to try and avoid the worst of the freezing torrent.
"So, you think you're a natural do you?" he snorted, above the roar of the water. "Well, so much the better, downstairs here they only play at it. Wait until after dark when the guards get their chance. You're up for grabs now you're broken in. They'll all want a piece of you. Clients and staff."
Emily twisted away from the jet as he played the water over her frozen skin. Dropping to her knees, she cowered on the floor, trying to cover herself.
Birdie laughed. "Your precious Peter might have kept you for himself, but at Deuvar they've made it very obvious that you're anybody's." He snapped the water off. "Come here."
She looked up at him in disbelief. "You've got to get Kai," she whimpered, shivering uncontrollably.
Birdie's expression hardened. "Don't tell me what I've got to do. You're the slave here, not me."
Standing over her he undid his trousers. "They'll be having drinks upstairs, having polite little conversations, and while they're having their fun, I'm going to have you. I told you I'd be the first after the Haroldsons. Get up and face the wall. I'm just gonna have a little slice of what they had. Get up!"
Emily shook her head, glancing at Kai, who still hung, shivering in the chains. "But -" She was cut short by Birdie yanking her roughly to her feet. His open hand exploded across the side of her face, filling her mind with flashes of light and pain.
"I said get up, bitch," he snarled. He pushed her legs apart with his feet, forcing her breasts and face against the sodden brickwork. Roughly he explored her body, splaying her bruised sex with his hands. She whimpered as his fingers sought entry, plunging into her.
"How did it feel? Did Franz and that bitch Naomi Haroldson do the job real well? Did she fuck you too, the Dyke bitch? Did she get her tongue right up inside you, make your little cunt hum?"
Emily flinched as he slid his cock between the cheeks of her bottom, holding herself rigid as she felt him trying to find a way into her.
"I see they got around to marking you," he whispered thickly.
Her wet flesh was icy cold, clammy in contrast to his hot eager body.
"Put me inside," he said thickly. Emily swallowed and closed her fingers around his meaty throbbing shaft.
"Now!" Birdie snarled. Emily eased the raging head between the delicate inner folds of her sex and an instant later he pushed home.
He filled her to the brim, his progress more painful, more invasive than either Franz's strange ringed phallus or the dark compelling contours of Naomi's dildo. His hands slid down to her hips, dragging her frozen body onto his.
Without thinking she began to move, compelled by the dark need to give herself to his desire. Her body almost seemed to work without her conscious instruction, bending, moving, drawing Birdie deeper and deeper. Behind her she heard him moan, and thrust her pelvis back so that he could work himself deeper, oblivious to the raw ache deep inside her. Birdie snorted and jerked her back even harder.
She was stunned to feel her body responding, a warm glittering glow that begun deep in her belly. She began to lose herself in the sensation of his movements and the feeling of his desire pounding deep inside her quim. Shuddering she threw back her head, rolling her hips against him, brushing her buttocks against his crotch, driving him – and herself – out towards oblivion.
Birdie let out an excited gasp, pulling her closer still. Every tiny compelling sensation was echoed through them both until was on the brink of orgasm. She moaned, relishing the fullness inside her, the hot invasive sensation of his shaft pumping into her. Lost in surrender, her body and her mind suddenly exploded in a great white wave of ecstasy that snatched her breath away.
Behind her Birdie roared. Emily felt the electric throb of his own climax coursing through her, a stunning counterpoint to her own pleasure. For a second or two, when the waves receded, he leant against her to catch his breath, the heat of his body seeping into hers.
"My God!" He was resting his head against her shoulder. "You would have been wasted on just one man."
He stepped away from her, running his fingers through the trail of his excitement between her legs. The after-shocks of pleasure made her tremble. She stood still for a few seconds, trying to regain her composure, listening as Birdie unlocked Kai.
This was Deuvar. By coming here she had placed herself at the beck and call of any man who wanted her. Any man who wanted to use her, take her, and the realisation excited some part of her mind in a way she was almost too afraid to contemplate.
Birdie slipped his fist back through her leash and jerked it tight. "Come on," he snapped, still breathing unevenly. "There'll be time for more later." He fingered his leather belt. "Time maybe to teach you a few more lessons before the other guests get to take a share of your sweet little arse."
Kai walked silently beside them both, the remains of her dress plastered against her slim body. Her long hair dripped onto her shoulders and her eyes were downcast. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to sense the change in Emily. Emily longed to touch her, try and do something to make amends, try and explain that she understood. Instead, they fell into step and headed back towards Leonora's office.
Chapter 12
Peter Howard hunched uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Angela's ageing estate car.
Outside, through the winter darkness, he didn't recognise the countryside or any landmarks. The country roads were almost empty, winding back and forth between dense woodland and small villages. He glanced down at the map on his knees. It was too dark to read but he was certain that in another mile or so they would join the motorway.
They had barely spoken since he had turned off the computers, though he was convinced she had phoned her employer. He wondered if her contacts would be waiting for him too. In spite of the dangers erotic possibilities filled his exhausted mind.
If only they had had more time to explore the dark side of her nature. He would like to have her pierced. Her broad pink nipples would look magnificent topped with little silver rings, with tiny bells that would announce her arrival or her excitement. He imagined them pressed against her dark blue cotton nurses uniform.
And he would shav
e her quim, revealing the plump contours of the delicious meaty sex that crouched between her heavy thighs. Yes, Angela was a banquet. He shivered, feeling the familiar press in his groin. He imagined her tied across a table with soft leather thongs, lit by the soft glow of candles as he laid a studded tawse across the naked mound, making the delicate skin flush crimson with heat and pain.
In the headlights of a passing car Peter glanced across at his silent companion. Her face was drawn and pale, her fingers gripped the steering wheel.
"Are you still wearing the harness?"
Angela groaned. "You're totally incorrigible."
"Answer me!"
"Yes. I am wearing it!"
He closed his eyes and imagined her again secured for his pleasure, the harness biting into her delicate flesh, a pillow beneath those heavy thighs as he ranged over her body with a tawse and his lips. She would sob as he cracked the leather down on her breasts, writhing and twisting away from the stinging delicious heat. Between her legs, between her naked glowing lips, he would see the slick silvery juices of her excitement, encouraging him on, driving him towards release.
He could almost hear her begging him to stop as he mounted her and forced his cock into her hot wet mouth. His shaft would silence her words as she drained him dry, sucking, desperate to pleasure him. Finally he would untie her and she would crawl towards him, slide down from the table and curl herself up at his feet, awaiting his command.
A picture of Emily Lawrence formed slowly in his imagination, her slim lithe frame a stunning counterpoint to the heavier curves of Angela. In the shadows he would sit watching the women, sensing their excitement as Angela spread her legs and Emily moved closer, her mouth open, tongue peeping provocatively between her full lips. He stroked a finger idly across her belly.