Groomed, Trapped, Enslaved. The Complete Story.

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Groomed, Trapped, Enslaved. The Complete Story. Page 15

by Amelia Stark


  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I cry, when a sharp pain shoots through my protesting muscle.

  The ball stretches my sphincter beyond its normal elasticity, however, as soon as it’s passed the tight muscle, the pain settles down to an insistent dull throb.

  I feel the housekeeper cover the smaller ball that protrudes with a stretch cover and when I eventually stand up and look in the mirror I find I had a red fluffy bunny tail. Carla ties my hair into bunches with red ribbon and I step into a pair of red 4” stilettos to complete the outfit.

  Maria and I are allowed to apply some flashy make-up, including bright red lip gloss, before she examines us and gives us her approval. To say I’m anxious when we eventually follow the housekeeper downstairs to the kitchen, is the understatement of the year, because I’m beginning to realize that the Ambrosi family are capable of absolutely anything.

  Chapter 25

  While we were upstairs bathing and dressing, caterers had been and delivered dozens of trays of food and laid them out on every available surface in the kitchen and breakfast room. Carla points Maria toward a tray of food and tells her something in Italian, then she points at me and a tray of glasses filled with champagne. I stand there stiffly watching the woman issuing her orders and feel incredibly vulnerable being naked below my navel.

  “English, you serve drinks. Make everyone happy. Work hard.” She says handing the heavy tray to me. She points at the door. “Go make them happy!”

  I turn and walk through the doorway into the long sitting room and see that I’m in for a shameful time. People are just arriving, entering the room from the entrance hall on the far side of the room. I’ve only taken four paces, before I’m confronted by a middle aged couple. They casually walk up to me and take one of the glasses from my tray, before sipping the bubbly liquid.

  The large woman seems more at ease at studying my body than her slim partner, but I can see the lust in his cautious eyes and that he’s trying to hide it from the woman. She begins to study me intently with cold, grey-blue eyes and then asks me something in Italian.

  “English.” I reply. “Sorry.”

  I don’t know why I apologized but they seem amused anyway.

  “Ah, English whore. Bruno tell me he has new trainee.” The woman says in pretty good English.

  She reached forward and slides her hand down my smooth belly, over the tattoo and into the dimple of my cleft, where she begins to explore my tight crevice. I keep my thighs firmly clamped together, but I can’t stop her insistent finger from reaching my fleshy, wet orifice.

  “Maybe, you fuck with us later?” I can’t help smiling at the double-entendre, but my tray is shaking from the effects of her exploring finger.

  I think she takes my smile as a signal that I do indeed want to fuck with them! So she withdraws her wet finger and pops it in her mouth, suggestively.

  “Hugo, she tastes like peaches and cream!” she chuckles.

  She looks at her partner who is suddenly alert and interested in the conversation. He nods and I can see he’s itching to see if I do indeed taste like peaches and cream.

  “Hugo, see for yourself what a fine specimen Bruno has found… “

  I look around for someone to give a drink to, before the man starts to explore my pussy, but he’s quicker and clumsier than the woman. He tries to force his fingers along my labia in an attempt to cup my cunt.

  “Let him touch, English whore,” she demands in a whisper.

  I move my feet apart, allowing him to search for my creamy quim. I stand perfectly still, while his fingers probe even further until his bent digits locate my moist entrance and tease the moist flesh mercilessly.

  “After dinner we fuck,” she says, while her partner crudely finger fucks me.

  My hands began to shake, making the glasses chink together on the tray.

  “I think we should get some food,” interjects the woman, probably sensing I’m about to drop the tray.

  The man’s eyes narrow as though an angry thought has occurred to him, before pulling his fingers away from my sopping pussy and popping them straight into his mouth. He flashes a quick smile at me and then to my relief, turns to walk over to where another group of people are gathered around Maria and her tray of food.

  Once all the guests have had their drinks and hors d’oeuvres, they file into the dining room. Bruno seats himself at the head of the long table, while the six couples sit down each side.

  We were told from the outset by Carla, that when we weren’t serving the guests, we were to stand at the vacant end of the table ready to be called if required.

  While I serve food and drinks to the diners, I keep an eye on the woman who propositioned me. She’s in her thirties, well-tanned, I guess a size 16 and very attractive in a southern European way. She styles her dark hair with a severe fringe and wears heavy, black mascara and eye liner to accentuate her steel grey-blue eyes.

  The woman constantly watches me and when I have to stand next to her chair to fill her glass, her hand slides straight between my thighs, so she can tease my fleshy portal again. I approach her for the fourth time.

  “Hello English whore,” she mutters, while her fingers easily search out my hot, creamy tunnel.

  I have to bend forward and adopt an open leg stance to pour her drink. I unashamedly dip my back and bend my knees, giving her easy access to my gushing quim, which she spears mercilessly with two fingers to the third knuckle!

  I’m extremely flushed by the time I move away from her side. My whole body is trembling, for I almost achieve an orgasm. Luckily, most of the men around the table are content to pat my butt or play with my tail, which actually caused me considerable discomfort. I think the men kept their fingers away from my pussy, lest they upset their partners who were keeping an eye on their activities.

  Once Maria and I have cleared away the dirty dishes, the guests remain seated around the table, chatting, drinking and smoking.

  We’re standing at the end of the table, listening and waiting apprehensively, when Bruno calls down to Maria and gives her an instruction in Italian. Maria turns to me and points at my stilettoes. She slips her own shoes off and I follow suit, wondering what’s going to happen. She points to the table and then at me.

  “You and me. We fuck on table.”

  I look at the table and all the expectant faces of the guests and I begin to slowly shake my head. Then I see Bruno rise from his seat and notice he’s holding a cane in his right hand.

  “Yes, show me.” I say quickly, beginning to panic. The table is made of thick solid wood, so I’m not afraid of it collapsing, but I am afraid of the cane Bruno is holding in his hand.

  I help Maria up onto the table and as she begins to crawl down toward Bruno’s end, I’m able to examine her sex in fine detail, for it’s at my eye level. Compared to my tight pussy, Maria had a looser one, which surprises me for such a slim girl. Her labia is distended, allowing her fleshy pink inners to spill out from between her cleft. I wonder if they’re going to expect me to eat her succulent pussy in front of them, which wouldn’t surprise me, nor would it disgust me. The idea ignites a curious feeling of desire within my breast!

  Bruno is still standing, watching me intently, so I scramble up onto the table, where I noticed Maria has stopped and is slowly turning round to face me. Someone hands her a large pink ‘U’ shape object, and as I get closer, I identify it as a double ended dildo. I used one just a few days ago with Candy, the girl I’ll soon be living with, whenI return to England.

  The monster dildo has fake balls at its centre, similar to the one I’ve used before. I’m pleased to see that Maria is up on her knees and feeding the thicker end of the silicone phallus into her vagina.

  Once Maria is satisfied that the phallus is snuggly in place, she signals to me to turn round. I look down at the monster dildo that she’s intending to fuck me with and guess it’s even fatter than Bruno’s huge cock.

  “English I fuck you.” She whispers.

  I slowl
y turn round on the polished wooden surface, and looking around at the expectant faces, I know exactly what’s required of me. I spread my knees and dip my back, lowering my shoulders, so I can rest on my forearms.

  I feel her crawl between my legs and nudge the tip of the phallus against my gaping cunt. She holds it still for a second, allowing me to line up my tight orifice with her torpedo, and then, as I sit back slightly, we move together eventually impaling my tight vagina on her fat dildo.

  I pose right in front of my admirer with the grey-blue eyes and she smiles up at me, when Maria begins to thrust the phallus into my quim with long hard strokes. I close my eyes and try to forget the humiliation of having to perform like a rutting dog in front of an audience, and soon find that I can easily do it.

  Murmurs of approval rise from those gathered spectators round the table, as Maria grabs my hips and begins pounding my pussy with as much force as her little body can muster. It’s an entirely different experience to the real thing, but I thoroughly enjoy putting on a show nevertheless.

  I soon find that the piston movement of the dildo rubbing against the ball of the butt plug, through the fragile internal membrane of my vagina, causes a mixture of pain and pleasure to spread throughout my groin. This is the first time I’ve performed in front of a live audience and admit that it somehow turns me on! Sergio tricked me into performing in front of a live cam, but this is much more shameful and yet equally as exhilarating!

  I manage to find a nice image in my head to fantasize about, and as my imagination begins to work overtime, my surroundings begin to fade away and breath-taking sensations slowly built into an enormous crescendo. They want a performance, so I give them one, by getting back on my hands and knees and howling like an animal through wave after wave of sheer ecstasy.

  A polite round of applause ripples round the table and when I look at my admirer sitting beside me, she seems impressed. Maria withdraws and I collapse forward, absolutely exhausted by my command performance. I try to gather my thoughts together, while closing my eyes, when I hear a voice shouting from the end of the table.

  “Scendere!”

  Suddenly, I hear Bruno’s command from behind me, but as it’s an Italian word, I don’t immediately respond. Swiiiiiiish, THWACK!

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” I shriek as a line of white fire tears across my ass cheeks.

  I’m up on my hands and knees in a flash and moving toward the end of the table. Swiiiiiiish, THWACK Swiiiiiiish, THWACK!

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  He delivers two more searing blows to my already raw butt, causing an unbelievably fierce fire to rage across my tender globes.

  I reach the end of the table and only just manage to stop myself from crashing down onto the ceramic tile floor. Thankfully, the blows stop and I’m able to turn and stagger down.

  Once off the table, Maria helps me to my feet, so that we’re once again standing at the end of the table. Bruno returns to the other end, and as everyone rises from their seats, he guides them back into the reception room leaving us alone to wait for our next instruction.

  I wonder if Sergio will be coming to the Villa, or if he’s lent me to his uncle until Rosa goes back. I’m totally isolated in a foreign country, with no money or passport, so I have to face up to the fact that I’m stuck in the Villa for as long as they want me here.

  I feel as lonely and afraid as I’ve ever been in my short life and I’m not sure if I can cope with the constant abuse and torment that Bruno and the housekeeper are probably planning to dish out to me…

  Chapter 26

  I wake to a loud clattering noise, and as I turn to see what’s happening, I fall sideways out of my narrow bed, onto the cold ceramic tile floor. I land heavily on my elbow, sending a pain flashing through my right arm.

  I couldn’t break my fall, because my wrists are secured in aluminium cuffs, which are part of a one piece rigid yoke that Bruno closed and locked securely round my neck, thus completely disabling me.

  “Wake up English whore. Get dressed!” the housekeeper demands.

  I look up to see the large frame of Carla, standing in the doorway of the room or cell. Judy! I want to shout at her, my name is Judy, but I want to avoid a thrashing, so I keep quiet. She’s holding a pan in one hand and striking it with a wooden stick, to wake us up.

  I know from experience, that if I don’t respond quickly, she’ll walk over and beat me with the implement. I roll over and quickly get to my knees and pick the blanket up that tumbled down with me. Carla is hovering around with her tawse and I try my hardest to keep my taught butt cheeks away from her.

  On the other side of the room Maria sits up, and manages to rub her eyes within the restrictive reach of the one piece bondage yoke. I’ve just spent the sixth night in what can only be described as a cell. The only window is covered with heavy bars and the door is made of metal and locked by Carla when she leaves at night.

  The brick walls are simply painted white, which contrasts vividly with the orange ceramic tile flooring. When I first arrived at the Villa, a week earlier, Carla put me in a cell on my own, but something happened after the party a few days ago that caused Bruno to beef up security. The house was suddenly surrounded by a lot of guards and the men disappeared leaving Maria and I at the mercy of the sadistic housekeeper. She brought Maria into my cell and fitted us both with new steel bondage devises and awful ring gags.

  I have to bend right forward to straightened the straw mattress and smooth out the single blanket on top. The cuff devise only allows a short reach, but I still manage to fold the corners and tuck in the sides, as I was shown by the housekeeper.

  I’m fully aware that my naked ass is bobbing in the air while I kneel over the bed and if I don’t get it right, she’ll callously deliver a blow to my buttocks.

  “Bend!” barks the housekeeper, impatiently.

  Having completed that task, I quickly scamper to the centre of the room and assume the ‘bend’ position. Keeping my legs straight, I bend forward and place my hands on my knees, making sure my feet are well-spaced apart.

  In this position my bulging labia is open for inspection and she can easily locate the phallus that nestles deep within my tight vagina.

  I look sideways and Maria has been quicker to get into position, so I know that I’m going to receive the mandatory stroke for laziness. SWATT!

  “Ahhhhhhhhrrrrrr!” I cry through the ring gag, as a line of fire bites into my tender butt cheeks.

  She hadn’t hit me particularly hard, but my globes are already covered with bruises, from my coccyx down to the back of my thighs. Once again the fingers of her tawse bite into my tender folds. Every additional blow, now seems ten times more painful, as all my nerve ending have become completely frayed.

  “Lazy English whore!” mutters the housekeeper.

  I feel her place one cold hand on the upper curve of my butt, while the fingers of her other hand part my cleft and begin to probe in the swirl of my vagina.

  She locates the end of the dildo and slowly withdraws it, eventually making a plopping sound when it comes free. I’m immediately struck with a sense of loss, because it was my only comfort during the night, in what is a dreadful place to sleep.

  In a very short space of time, I’ve become used to the feeling of having my cunt chock full of silicone. We’re also forced to sleep naked, which increases our sense of vulnerability. On the first day that Carla took charge of me, I noticed how terrified the slim Maria was of the housekeeper. The poor girl wouldn’t speak for fear of getting caught and was so jumpy whenever Carla appeared.

  I pitied her then and thought that she must be naturally timid, but now after six days of sadistic treatment from the fat woman, I realize that I too, am behaving in exactly the same fashion. We stand in the centre of the cell trembling, hoping she’s in a good mood and will go easy on us today.

  Once she’s removed Maria’s dildo, we’re allowed to stand, so that Carla can release us from the one-piece yokes. The aluminium de
vice has two sides, which are hinged at the back of the neck. The two halves each have a cuff at the end of a 6” projection.

  When the two sides are closed together, enclosing my neck, I have to put my wrists in the cuffs. When they’re closed, the whole devise is locked by putting a pin through a hole, just behind the cuffs and then threading a padlock through the end of the pin, under the devise.

  The yoke, I assume is to stop us from running away, but it also has a subjugating effect on us and keeps us in a constant state of trepidation if we have to wear it around the villa. Even though I’ve been wearing the devise during the night, I know that I’ll never get used to it. I dread being locked into it every night, because it enforces my slave status and brings home to me, just how isolated from the world I’ve become.

  With the yoke on at night, I’m unable to touch my pussy and interfere with the dildo, although I wouldn’t have removed it anyway, because I’m quite happy having something to take my mind away from the awful conditions I’m being kept in. I’m worried that I’m never going back to England and if I displease my Italian Master he can easily dispose of me and no one will ever know what’s happened to me.

  The housekeeper eventually unlocks the padlock and unhinges the cuffs, allowing me to remove my wrists from the nasty devise. I then expect her to unhinge the sides to release my neck, but instead, she closes the cuffs, replaces the pin and snaps the padlock back on.

  After unbuckling the harness and removing the ring gag from my mouth, Carla repeats the process with Maria, leaving us with the empty cuffs protruding from the aluminium collar.

  “Whores, go shower!” she says pointing to the door.

  I hurriedly followed Maria out into the corridor to the servant’s staircase and together we climb two flights until we reach the second floor, where our shower room is located.

  In the only conversation I’ve had with Maria, she told me that she was 19 years old. Apparently, her parents who are from Poland, were very poor, so they sold her to the Ambrosi family in exchange for a place to live in Italy and a job for her father in one of the family’s vineyards.

 

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