Slaver's Dozen (The Klitzman Stories)

by Paul Blades

  Brenda was crying. She loved her thick reddish brown hair. Once, she had let it grow down to her waist when she was younger. But she liked to keep it the way it had been when she had gotten selected for the modeling job, slightly longer than shoulder length. She had a habit of twirling a lock of it when she was deep in thought and she liked to brush it a hundred times before going to bed each night, a kind of mind clearing, mesmerizing ritual. She liked the way that she could make herself look little girlish by putting it in pigtails. She liked it when her boyfriends ran their hands through it or when girlfriends complimented her on it.

  But now it was gone. Why? She didn’t know. Had the other girls had their heads shaved? Was it some kind of ritual that she had to go through? She could see her reflection in a mirror that hung on the wall opposite her chair. Was it strategically placed there so that newly shaved girls could appreciate their new bald look? Brenda didn’t know the answers to these questions. She just stared at her naked, boney head and cried.

  She felt the man rubbing some kind of cream onto her head. It stung a little, but left her scalp feeling cool. Brenda didn’t know that the cream was a depilatory agent. Applied regularly, it slowed the growth of hair. Applied three times a day for several weeks, it killed the hair roots completely.

  The tech guy paused in his work. The next phases of the job would be a little more discomforting to the naked young woman sitting before him. He did his job well, and he enjoyed fucking the girls, but he was not really one of those guys who liked hurting them. But it was a job and the side benefits were outrageous.

  He stepped up to the chair and cranked it down. Brenda felt her torso being lowered. Once lowered, the man pulled straps from the side of the chair and bound her torso in tightly. Brenda looked up at him with wide, supplicating eyes. “What are you going to do to me?” they seemed to ask, reflecting what Brenda had in her panicked mind.

  The man went back to the counter and retrieved a small tray. The tray attached to the arm of the chair. Brenda couldn’t see what was on it, because her head was too low. There was a small bowl of alcohol, a long steel rod with a sharpened tip and two large gleeming steel rings. The tech man snapped on two surgical gloves.

  Brenda screamed when the tech man pierced her left nipple. She screamed again when he pierced the right. She almost didn’t notice the thick rings pushed through the holes at the base of her teats. They both had a spring mechanism and when threaded through the bloody gaps that the man had made in Brenda’s body, they clicked shut.

  When the man did her labia, threading six thin stainless steel rings on each side, Brenda bucked and writhed in her chair, screeching and crying as the pain of the punctures in her labia overwhelmed her. But the man had done this before and she was adequately secured before he started. He had shaved off all of her pubic hair, what little there was after her bikini trim, and applied some of the salve.

  The man spent some time cleaning up the blood that had spilled from Brenda’s wounds. She sat moaning into her gag, squirming her hips at the continuing, throbbing, intense pain. The holes would heal soon enough, but for at least the next eighteen hours or so, they would burn and sting every time the rings were touched.

  Next to come was the mouth. For this part, for very practical reasons, the policy was to administer a soporific. He would give her something that would make her woozy and unable to do more than mumble and murmur, but she would still be aware of what was being done to her. It was best that a slave personally experience every stage of her debasement.

  The tech man rubbed a small circle of alcohol in the nape of Brenda’s arm and injected the solution. It would take about fifteen minutes to really slow her down and so he went outside for a smoke.

  As her mind began to fog, Brenda was wallowing in self pity. She couldn’t understand why this was happening to her. She had always been good. She hadn’t been mean to anyone. She had been home promptly at twelve when she was younger. She had joined the public service organization at her suburban Jersey high school. She didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs. Then why was she being punished? Why were these things happening to her? As her mind floated, visions of her recent torments ran through her mind. She had screamed with pain when whipped, and cowered at the mere thought of it. She had hated the cruel penetration of her body by the harsh black men. She had hated herself when they had forced her to pleasure. She would never get used to it. Never!

  When the techie returned, Brenda’s eyes were rolled back, her face, slack. He removed her gag. She noticed when he pulled it out, attempting speech. She emitted only a slight mumble. A leather band was wrapped around the top of her head to hold it in place against the headrest. Clamps were pushed up against the sides of her head to keep it still. The man looked at Brenda’s pretty mouth. She had plump, almost bee stung lips. He leaned over and kissed them, running his tongue along the underside, taking in her hot breath. “She’s a sweet one,” he thought to himself. He took a moment to contemplate what he was about to do. “Well, fuck it,” he said aloud, finally.

  He stood up and retrieved another tray from the counter. After donning another pair of surgical gloves, he unwrapped a strange, round device from its cellophane packaging. The device had two circles of plastic, one hard and one soft. There was a little ridge between them. The techie took up the device and brought it to Brenda’s mouth. Against her mumbled protest, he pushed it inside. Brenda’s teeth fell squarely inside the gap between the circles. The soft side of the device, a little thicker than the other, lay against the back of Brenda’s teeth. The front was set between her teeth and her gums. There were small holes all around the hard plastic circle. The tech man examined the fit of the device closely. It was perfect.

  Brenda didn’t know it, but she was fitted for the device a week before. She had assumed that the thick, round plug of clay that had been forced between her lips had been yet one more dehumanizing torture. She had been blinded by her hood, and could not see what was happening when they pressed her jaw up against the clay and pressed her lips against it. After it was carefully removed, her gag was replaced. The tart taste of the clay remained in her mouth for hours.

  There was no sense removing the device once it was in. The techie picked up a specially designed tool and brought it to Brenda’s mouth. It was somewhat like a leather puncher’s tool. The man placed part of it behind Brenda’s lips, behind the circle of plastic and, finding a hole, closed the handles, punching a hole the width of a ten penny nail in her upper lip. The tool had also inserted a steel plug through the hole. Brenda gurgled in pain. The techie, while holding the tool in place, picked up a small, round ball from a dish on the tray. The ball had a small opening and he placed it on the portion of the tool head that was outside Brenda’s mouth and then clamped the tool shut once again. There was a click as the rod married itself to the ball. The two pieces were lodged together almost inseparably. They met just on the upper portion of Brenda’s lip, directly under her nose.

  Brenda moaned and whined as the man fiddled with her mouth. She protested distractedly as she felt the sting of another hole being punched through her skin above her lip. Her clouded mind could not fathom what was being done. She tried to shake her head, but it was too tightly confined and she was too weak from the drug.

  The rest of the holes went just as easy. The only difficulty was to get the lips pursed just right as the circle around them was completed. He had installed a vacuum tube in the girl’s mouth to carry away the saliva and blood. When he was finished, Brenda’s lips were surrounded by a circle of small, shiny, steel balls. Her mouth was fixed open in a small circle, just the size of a man’s cock. The lips themselves were left loose so that they could drag against the shaft as the cock rode back and forth. But since the lips would no longer be able to grasp the cock tightly, the device was really designed for throat fucking. There was no need to order the girl to “open up”. There was no danger of her clasping her jaws shut in panic as she fought for air. And when the mouth was not in use, there
was a specially designed gag that fit nicely over the little balls to seal it tightly in.

  Of course her meals would all, from now on, be pureed. There was no chance that she would be able to chew anything. And, sadly, as least in the techie’s opinion, she had been given her last kiss. He looked at the girl, her jaw slack, her mouth rounded as if a cock were already present, as he considered the next step. It would be fairly easy as it was pretty much straight forward.

  He reached into Brenda’s gaping mouth with a small pincer. He trapped her tongue and dragged it out of her mouth, extending it to its full length. A clamp was pressed together, running across the base of the tongue, wider than her mouth, keeping the tongue trapped outside.

  He quickly installed four little round balls on either side of her tongue. Brenda jumped slightly as each hole was made. When done, there were four little round steel balls on her tongue, which she would find useful when caressing the shaft of her master as he raped her mouth. The tongue was released and returned to Brenda’s mouth. Adding a nose ring was simple and he soon had the thick, gleaming steel ring inserted. It clicked against the balls on the top of Brenda’s upper lip when he released it.

  The poor girl was just starting to come out of her stupor. She would soon be in excruciating pain. She would struggle and sob about the violence done to her mouth. But she would not be able to speak a single word of protest although her mouth was wide open.

  The techie now worked quickly. He unlocked her wrists from the arms of the chair and pulled her out of it. Brenda was unsteady on her feet as he led her across the room. There was a low, padded table there and the techie laid her across it, face down. He quickly unlocked and removed her leather bracelets. He taped her wrists together, palms facing each other, and began to install a heavy, leather sleeve over her arms. He pulled it down to the base of the arms and expertly began to lace it up. Brenda’s arms were brought tightly together. She moaned and began to squirm slightly. She moaned harder when he folded her arms backwards, and pressed her wrists firmly against her back. Laces at the very tip of the sleeve ran through a ring at the edge of the lower portion, which was now up around Brenda’s shoulder blades. He pulled it tight through that ring and tied it off.

  As Brenda was beginning to moan and cry with the pain to her mouth and arms, the man removed her thick, leather collar and replaced it with a heavy, black, steel one. It closed up against her neck tightly, its inside coated with a soft foam. But it was wider than the leather collar and there was a little wedge in the front that forced the head up. It too had spring locks and when the heavy collar was clamped closed, it was removable only with the use of an acetylene torch. Two straps from the leather sleeve were tied off on the ring at the back of the collar.

  Two heavy circlets of blackened steel were affixed to Brenda’s ankles and her new uniform was complete. She was beginning to regain her senses and the techie figured that it was time for her to admire his handiwork. He pulled her up to a standing position and led her to the full length mirror. Brenda looked up and began to wail. She saw her deformed body before her, her grotesque mouth, the rings through her nipples and nose. She felt the intense pain on her tongue and stuck it out only to see the tiny, little shiny balls inserted there. Her hairless head made her seem subhuman.

  Tears poured from the young girl’s eyes. She tried to protest the maiming of her body, but all that emerged from her mouth were gurgling sounds. The young man leaned over and put his fingers through the rings along her labial lips, pulling on them slightly. The pain drew Brenda’s attention there and her wailing began anew.

  “What cruel, depraved person would do this to me?” she thought piteously. Her knees weakened as the enormity of what had been done to her sank in. She was to be somebody’s toy, not a person at all. All of her personality had been removed. The techie clipped a chain to the ring in the front of her collar and led her from the room.

  He sat her down on a chair in the anteroom, strapping her in place. She was still moaning in pain and profound despair. The techie picked up the telephone and dialed a number. “Hello,” he said. He waited. “Yeah, this is Custom Detailing. She’s ready.”

  Brenda wondered fearfully who she could be ready for. She could not imagine the cruelty of a man who would have this done to her. What would he do to her once he took possession of her? How much would she suffer? Would she ever be free and whole again?

  The techie had draped a black bag loosely over Brenda’s head while she awaited her new, cruel master. After an agonizing, interminable wait, she heard the door open and then heard a familiar voice say, “Let me see her.”

  She was brought to her feet and the bag lifted. She could not believe her eyes. It was Paderovski! The man who had betrayed them! The man who she had thought about in bed at night, dreaming of his falling in love with her, making love to her! And now he was right there in front of her. She tried to back away from him, crying out, “No! No!” It sounded more like “Oh! Oh!”

  Nicholai, aka Paderovski, grabbed the girl by the ring on the front of her collar. He pulled her to himself. He smiled at her, a cold, deadly smile. His eyes, which had always seemed to Brenda to be full of life, had turned black as a shark’s.

  “Come here, Brenda,” he said in a sing song voice. “Let me take a look at you. You sure look different than when the last time I saw you. I think you’re more to my taste now.”

  He shifted his grip to the steel rings that pierced Brenda’s ample breasts. “Ooooghf!” she cried as she tried to protest the pain. He lifted her up on to her toes. Brenda screeched in pain.

  “Now, now, my little slut, you’ll soon experience pain a lot worse than this. What will you do then, huh?”

  Brenda’s stomach sank; it was as if a heavy load had just landed on her body. “Oh, God,” she pleaded in her mind. “How will I ever survive it? Why did he pick me? Why? Why? Why?”

  It was as if he was reading her mind, a thought that increased Brenda’s dread. “You know, Brenda, I could have had any one of you girls. Kit and Sheila were prettier. And Karen had bigger tits, and whiter skin. No, although you were beautiful too, Brenda, I picked you because you seemed the one best suited to suffering. I saw that right away. I dreamed of laying a lash on your body. And soon, I will. But right now, I want to give my new slave girl a fuck.”

  Nicholai looked up at the tech man who shrugged. “Be my guest,” he said.

  The cruel, heartless man dragged Brenda over to a table at the side of the room. He threw her back against it and, lifting her legs, forced her down on it. Brenda was shrieking and protesting. “This can’t be real!” she thought as he spread her legs apart. “This can’t be happening!”

  Nickolai was wearing his street clothes and took the time to release his steel hard cock from his pants. When it was freed, he pushed his body between Brenda’s legs. He circled his arms under her thighs and lifted them up until the crux of her knees were resting on his forearms. He reached in to Brenda’s cunt and grabbed the rings that pierced her labia. Brenda screamed in pain as he pulled them apart, revealing the soft pink interior of her slit. He pressed his cock against the length of the slit, teasing it, conveying his heat to it. He leaned forward and was able to insinuate the tip of his rod inside the opening of Brenda’s pussy. He was determined to take his time. He had waited weeks for this. No girl left Klitzman’s Isle without training, and Brenda was no exception. She bore Klitzman’s mark, imposing his ultimate and superior right to her.

  Brenda shuddered as she felt the hard cock begin to force its way inside her. It was like a poisonous leach possessing her. She yearned to shut her nether lips tightly, to prevent his entrance. But instead, her lips were being pulled widely apart, rendering vulnerable the crevasse between them.

  Slowly, but surely, Nicholai exercised his cock in Brenda’s tight hole. Against her will, the friction began to draw her cunt into lubrication. It was like a geometric progression. The deeper he penetrated her sheath, the more excited it became, the more it yearne
d to be filled. Nicholai pressed his cock gently forwards, until suddenly all resistance faded, and it slid easily in. Brenda’s body quailed as she felt the cruel man fill her. She had orgasmed for the black men, they had shown her that she was weak, that she could not resist her own urges. Even now she could feel the heat building in her loins.

  Her master began pumping harder now, his own lust creeping higher and higher. He pulled on the rings, evoking a moan of pain from the girl. He thrust his hips again and again against hers, his urgency beginning to crest. But he wanted to wait, knew that he could. He wanted to see Brenda’s now bizarre face cringe as her cunt’s spasms flew through her. She started to push her hips against his, started a low, steady moan. Her eyes opened and she began to hoot through her grotesquely formed mouth. “Ooooooooooooo!” she called. “Oooooooooooo!”

  At the strange sounds of Brenda’s orgasm, Nicholai released his torrent of spewm into her. Her cunt grabbed him tightly as it convulsed. “Ahhhhhhhh!” he yelled as he shot his load into the supine girl. “Ahhhhhhhh!”

  When his balls had emptied themselves fully into the girl’s womb, Nicholai withdrew his softening meat from Brenda’s still shuddering cunt. He looked at her face. She was crying softly.

  He left the girl lying on the table. He obtained from the techie a thick, leather cord. He quickly looped it inside the rings on Brenda’s labia, criss-crossing them, and then pulling the lips tightly closed. Brenda moaned in pain at the pressure on the still sore rings. She could feel him tying off the cord. The point was obvious. Her cunt was not her own. It was his. He could have it anytime he wanted, but she wouldn’t be able to even touch it.