Lucy had often endured difficult bondage positions in other places and at other times, but she now found this position most ponderous and uncomfortable. A fat rubber plug was forced into her mouth. When in place, it sealed her entire mouth with rubber flanges holding her teeth and jaws widely apart and additional flat, thin seals around her lips. She could not inhale or exhale through her mouth and her tongue was uselessly pressed to the floor of her mouth. Bound in place with a harness that encompassed her whole head, the mouthpiece was the first intrusion inflicted upon her and Lucy was already in a near panicked state. Lucy knew that all of this preparation meant that they were going to do something awful to her, but she didn’t know exactly what. That question was answered when the women rolled one of the wheeled carts over alongside the chair and then, without expression, showed her what she instantly recognized as a vaginal douche arrangement. They lubricated the giant head of the nozzle at the end of the black, coiled hose and slowly eased it up into Lucy’s pussy while she squirmed and wiggled her ass, trying to ease the discomfort and accommodate the monster nozzle as it eased inside. Then, to her surprise, the woman handling the hose operated a spring release at the base of the nozzle and Lucy felt the spray head spring open, filling her inner cavity and assuring that it was not going to come back out until this horrid expansion head was released.
She was further shocked when they produced a second hose with a different, equally worrisome attachment at the end. This looked a bit like a collapsed mushroom, but Lucy quickly realized that it was a monster inflatable butt plug with a hose attached and that it was going up her ass. Again, the same woman greased the head and parted Lucy’s ass cheeks gently, murmuring something Lucy didn’t understand but which clearly was an instruction for her to relax and let the fat plug enter with as little discomfort as possible. Lucy nevertheless could not help but tighten her rectal sphincter in fear and try to pull away for the cold, greasy plug that was being pushed gently against her puckered back door.
My God, she thought. That thing is never going to fit and if it does, it would push the other one back out. Two of these cannot possible fit in my pussy and ass at the same time.
The shoving became more insistent, Lucy pressed herself against the towels and the tiled chair, praying that the pressure would stop, but the woman was now more insistent, moving the plug from side to side, applying more pressure, more force. As the rounded head entered and stretched the clenching circle of muscle, Lucy screamed into the rubber gag. Of course, since the mouthpiece sealed her mouth shut, the sounds came out her nose and that was about all. No one seemed to mind. The attendants had all heard that before.
“Morsch...morsche…,” the woman said softly, still pushing. The others in the room also began the soft chant…”morsche, morsche...” The head was now lodged halfway inside and the base with the attached hose was sticking up most obscenely from Lucy’s invaded butt. With a suddenly violent effort, the woman jammed the rest of the plug into Lucy’s tormented hole and she felt it slide past the anal barrier and fill her rectum totally. The shock of pain and then relief was stunning. Lucy was sweating from her entire body, but as the waves of pain from the penetration slowly began to fade, she tried taking deeper breaths and concentrated on relaxing her entire lower abdomen.
There was apparently no need for a spring-loaded feature on the butt plug. It was wedged so tightly in Lucy’s ass that she doubted anything would ever get it out. Meanwhile, the dangling hoses were hooked up to the outlets on the machine and in her fog of pain, humiliation and confusion, Lucy wondered if they intended to irrigate her vagina and ass at the same time.
Unfortunately for her, that was not all they planned to do. Her gag was adjusted and yet another hose attached to the front of the mouthpiece. She struggled unsuccessfully against the restraining straps, thrusting her body against them and trying to twist out of the chair. However, there was no release and the three attending women remained expressionless as they fitted a third hose to her mouthpiece. Two lubricated thin tubes were quickly shoved into her flared nostrils as Lucy struggled and fought for breath. In an instant, she felt the flow of cold pressurized air into her nasal passages and this made breathing easier, but the hoses were also unpleasant.
With all of this intrusive penetration going on and fixed as she was in such as terribly vulnerable position, Lucy was on the verge of passing out. She took deeper breaths from the air hoses and hoped that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare would eventually end.
The padded leather blindfold came next, sealing out the light and the white tiled room. Lucy was by now almost incapable of any outward reaction. She was being violated in five of her body apertures and nothing she thought, could possibly be worse. The feeling of a tube being inserted into her urethra was the last straw. Unable to move and fight it, Lucy just collapsed and this helped the woman slide the long, thin tube up inside her until it entered Lucy’s bladder and responded with a light flow of urine that went into a bag hung from the side of the cart. The three women murmured something to the effect that they were nearly done but Lucy was beyond caring. She tugged listlessly at her bound hands, flapped her feet against the cold tile floor and wiggled her upright ass in hopes of perhaps expelling the double hosed plugs now nestled deep inside her. It was quiet in the room. The machine next to the chair was not operating and the three women seemed to be waiting for something. Lucy breathed through her hosed nose and waited too.
The cutting lash of the pony whip came with such force and such surprise that Lucy literally leapt against the chair. Tightly bound as she was, there was little movement. Yet the pain that shot through her was worse than anything she had ever experienced, even at summer school. The whip swished through the air and struck with the sickening sound of high-speed leather meeting cool, innocent flesh. There was no other sound. It was as if she had been struck by lightning. Waiting for the thunder to follow was automatic, so when the second searing blow came, it was anticipated but this made it no easier to endure. Someone, perhaps one of the attending women, was beating her across the back of her exposed thighs. The blows came slowly and were without mercy. Each strike brought a surge of lightning pain followed by the inevitable wash of secondary pain that spread through her bound and impaled body. By the fifth stroke, Lucy stopped counting and suddenly realized that there was something slowly entering her cunt and ass through the hoses. The fluid was warm and not unpleasant and just when she started to focus on the double douche and enema, the whip struck yet again, this time across her spread buttocks, impaled as they were by the butt plug and cunt hoses. Now another hose was opened and this one was sending water or whatever the substance was up into her bladder. The hose on the huge mouthpiece also began to push water into her throat. The effects of the whipping and the sudden flooding of her entire body were awesome. The water surging into her mouth and throat would have drowned her were it not for the twin air hoses. With each stroke she involuntarily pushed against the incoming flood filling her insides, yet the pump’s pressure was stronger than her constricted organs, so the water won.
Lucy flopped and surged and twisted, trying anything that might make this terrible four way invasion stop and having to fight for each breath as the oral water surged down her throat`. Each time she surged, the whip responded with another punishing cut on thighs, ass or back. The whipper even tried reaching her squashed tits, but only succeeded in catching the sides of each breast with the whip’s painful snapper end. Meanwhile the water continued to flow into the bent over body, filling the cavities and internal organs nearly to bursting. Then they shut off, leaving Lucy desperately trying to breathe as her lungs and other internal organs struggled to cope with the additional mass of liquid. Her bladder was the most painful and as soon as the flow in stopped, the flow outward was permitted and she expelled the fluid continuously. The valves in her ass tube and vaginal plug were also opened and she unashamedly forced the fluids out as quickly as she could. This took several minutes and then, once all the liquid was
When she awoke, Lucy was free of the chair, the hoses, the whip, the gag and the multiple plugs in her body. Dimly, she wondered how they had been able to get the huge ass plug out. She sat in a tremendous sunken tub of warm, soapy water and was being carefully laundered by the three women. They scrubbed her body and hair multiple times, and then let her soak in a warm bath while they carried out other hygienic operations and seemed sympathetic to her earlier plight. When she emerged, Lucy was cleaner than she had been in months. Her hair was neatly trimmed and dried, her nails cleaned and trimmed, her sex shaven bare and all other body hair removed. She was fitted with a leather harness that cinched her waist like a corset and had links in the back where her wrists were bound with leather cuffs. She was also given a pair of high heeled boots that came up to just below her knees. Both ankles were cuffed and hobbled with a short chain as well. A fresh new leather ball gag was wedged into her mouth, strapped on tightly and a thin leather collar with a leash placed around her neck. The women led her back to the entrance to their quarters, handed her leash to Hassan and fled, giggling, back into their inner sanctum, to later discuss in quiet tones the possible fate of the lovely young woman they had just prepared. They argued quietly about whether she was bound for labor in the mines or would become a sex toy for her master, mistress, or both. They would later learn, via the servant grapevine, which was extremely efficient and accurate, that they took her to the stables and added her to the transportation pool. “What an odd thing to do with such a treasure,” the head female servant later observed.
They also learned, firsthand, about castration when they were forced to join the rest of the servants and work force to witness the crude and savage surgery performed by a mine boss on the unfortunate creature who had delivered Lucy to the owner’s house. His screams were heard for nearly a mile down the mountain. They went on for a long time.
Locked away in her stall deep in the mine, Lucy wondered who it had been behind the whip and what possible purpose the forced irrigation could have had. She suspected Sasha Marbella was the handler of the cutting pony whip, based on her violent performance with the deliveryman, but she could not imagine why she was put through the humiliating four-way purging. The questions would remain unanswered.
Meanwhile, Madam Marbella was having her dinner. Beside her, on the stiffly starched white tablecloth, was a shallow china plate with a heavy silver band around its rim. In the center of the plate were the hairless genitals of the unfortunate deliveryman, lightly poached in white wine, basil and tarragon and aggressively scented with duck fat to hopefully dispel the clinging odor. Madam Marbella ignored the dish and finished her meal.
“Give these to the dogs,” she told the bowing servant.
Chapter Seven
Groff
Exactly four days from the time Ernst called his friend Gregory Casalo, Intelligence Specialist First Class, Jean M. Groff sat in Ernst’s spartan branch office in Heidelberg.
Von Holt was shocked when Groff entered his office. After a single follow-up conversation with Casalo, he expected a seasoned and perhaps a bit rough-looking, heavily experienced agent from the depths of Casalo’s apparently bottomless pool of experienced professionals, well schooled in handling international crime. So, Papa Ernst, as accustomed as he was to masking his thoughts and emotions, was nevertheless somewhat surprised when Lisle, his office administrator, showed a stunningly attractive, well dressed young woman into his office. Lisle handed Ernst Groff’s calling card, bowed slightly and left the office.
She was taller than most women, statuesque in the Roman sense, and displayed, from what was visible, a well proportioned figure. She moved with a determined grace that von Holt regarded as both dignified and calculated to keep her balance in spite of the ridiculously high heels. Something about her said that under the fashionable façade, there was a potentially dangerous and physically strong young woman. In short, Ernst thought, she appeared capable of throwing him to the floor and breaking his arm, (or his neck), without working up a sweat, if that was what was required.
“Doctor von Holt,” the woman said, removing a tight, black, kidskin glove from her right hand and reaching across the desk. Ernst grasped her warm, well-manicured hand, noting that her handshake was firm and, as was the custom; short, with one up and down action and a quick release.
Ernst realized at once that he was going to have to revise his original plans about the investigation. He was open-minded, but of the old school and it had not occurred to him that a woman could be assigned to the case and might have several advantages in pursuing Lucy’s disappearance. Now, here before him was Casalo’s recommended special investigations agent, dressed in a very short, black skirt, black tights, black, high-heeled knee boots, a softly knit black turtleneck sweater that Ernst was certain was cashmere, and a beautifully fitted, long black leather overcoat that reached almost to her ankles. She had shoulder length, black hair that was the same shade as the rest of her ensemble, parted slightly to the right and spread over her shoulders, framing an oval face. She wore very little makeup, except for dark shadow around the eyes, which seemed to be sunken into their sockets and were as black as the shiny leather of her coat. The long eyelashes nevertheless accented the darkly made up outlines around her eyes. Her lipstick was dark, maroon perhaps, but not gothic black. Ernst thought she could have easily passed as one of the sexy, darkly made up street women he occasionally saw in the cities of Europe.
Investigator Jean Groff, however, looked and acted more like a professional business executive than a pierced and tattooed Goth character. Ernst was impressed. He waited for her to sit and then offered coffee, which she refused. He refilled his own cup from a silver thermos on the sideboard while he appraised his new investigator.
“I’m sure that you are very busy, Sir,” Groff said quickly. “So let’s get to the point.”
“Of course,” said von Holt. “You come very highly recommended and I assume that Greg…ah, Mr. Casalo, filled you in on the mission I have in mind.”
“I have read all of the files and had a full backgrounder. I did this before I agreed to see you.”
“Fine, now…”
“A moment, Sir. Please,” the woman interrupted, recrossing her slim legs, allowing her long leather coat to slide away and displaying a great deal of leg, nicely tapered thighs and a set of breasts that would not be ignored by anyone, male or female. She slowly removed the remaining glove and tucked both gloves into her massive black leather shoulder bag, which, von Holt thought to himself, could perhaps hold a folding rifle, several handguns or perhaps a small motor cycle, if she packed it right.
“Yes…?” Ernst hesitated, unaccustomed to being interrupted.
“I agreed to see you, but I have not agreed to the assignment. What I need now is some additional motivation, if you would, to take the job. I think such disappearances as that of your daughter, Lucy, are so common these days that you might easily have simply hired a private detective to pursue the loose ends that the police may have left. Why do you need me?”
“Of course,” Ernst responded. “I am prepared to pay whatever you require and offer a substantial bonus when you have either established beyond a doubt that Lucy is dead or provided me with information as to where she is and who she is with. I will pay you and take it from there,” Ernst said rather curtly. He was not used to being placed in a position where he had to explain or defend his desires. “The reason Casalo suggested you was because, after discussing this case at length, we were in agreement that international criminals may be involved, possibly Russian, Italian or other mafia types with deeply imbedded resources and connections in several governments.”
“That is certainly possible. And fiscal motivation is, of course, what pays the bills,” Groff said with a bit of a smile. “With money, you can do almost anything. But at this point in my professional life, I can afford to choose what assignments I take on and which ones I decline. At the moment, I am inclined, despite your offers, to pass on this job.”
“I see,” Ernst said slowly, frowning.
“Any other reason I should reconsider?” Groff asked.
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