Slaver's Dozen (The Klitzman Stories)

by Paul Blades

  Before consuming his meal, Huong made a trip to the dark mahogany cabinet on the other side of the room. Mary was oblivious to his actions, grateful to have a surcease of her ordeal.

  Huong returned to the mat. Mary felt his hands on her ankle. He drew her left leg up and connected it to the leather bracelet surrounding her right wrist. Mary had no strength to resist. She docilely permitted him to connect the bracelet on her right ankle to the one on her left wrist. He pulled her to her knees and turned her torso so that she was facing the door. Mary looked at the man forlornly. She knew that the cruel man had not done with her. Her knees were spread open and her ankles and wrists were crisscrossed behind her.

  Huong moved behind Mary and he drew a black blindfold across her eyes, tying it off behind her head, plunging the girl into darkness. She cringed in expectation of further torment. She felt a pressure on her mouth, and a large ring gag was forced in between her teeth. There was a sharp pain in her breasts as Huong applied a sharp toothed clamp to each nipple. Mary winced at the pain, emitting a strange sounding moan through her forced open mouth. Huong’s hand descended to her loins and, pinching her tender labia, placed a long, thick clamp over them. The tight spring of the clamp pressed her cunt lips together tightly. She issued a half moan, half cry.

  Satisfied that the girl’s experience of pain and isolation would occupy her, Huong settled down to his meal. He sat cross legged at the table, facing his victim. He watched her carefully as he ate.

  Mary fought back her tears and moans as she listened to the colonel consume his dinner. She could hear the feint tap of his chop sticks as he fed himself his shrimp and rice. She listened as he poured himself another glass of soda water, hearing the clink of the ice, the gentle fizzing of the liquid.

  It seemed to Mary hours before she heard he man rise. Her nipples felt like they were on fire. Her poor labia ached and burned. She heard him walk back to the cabinet, and she shivered in apprehension as she speculated as to what implement of torture he would produce next. She sensed him kneeling down before her. His hand passed between her legs and removed the painful clamp that had captured her pussy’s lips. Her loins stung fiercely as blood ran back into her tortured nether lips.

  Huong considered the delicately beautiful creature before him. He would have picked her, had he been picking for himself. She had proven an immeasurable delight. He reached out to her pink, round breasts and removed the clamps from her nipples. Mary whined involuntarily from the pain of their release. He placed his hands on the firm, youthful mounds and caressed them. His touch was gentle, almost soothing. Mary’s nipples stiffened in reaction to the stimulation of her breasts.

  The slave girl knew what a ring gag was for, and she was anticipating the man’s imminent callous use of her mouth. She wanted this ordeal to be over. She yearned for the relative safety of the slave dorm. Her whole body seemed to be in pain. Her mind rebelled in protest against her abuse.

  Huong’s hand descended to Mary’s tender slit. As before, he expertly manipulated her to moistness. He rubbed her pleasure bud, tickling and pulling at it until the sheath below opened to his fingers. He watched Mary’s face as he gradually brought on her lust. When she had begun to pant, her breasts swollen with her hot blood, he stood up and walked behind her. His cock had hardened as he had watched Mary’s passion rise and he was ready to encase it in her widespread mouth.

  Pulling the girl’s head back by her hair, he forced her back to arch so that her mouth was poised for penetration by his prick. He grabbed her chin with one hand and slowly pushed his cock past her strained lips, deep into her mouth. Mary felt his hot meat press against her tongue and its tip pass into her throat.

  For a moment, Huong paused, his one hand holding Mary’s chin tightly, letting the tight confines of Mary’s esophagus inflame his passion. He had a tasseled whip in the other. He raised his arm and brought it down harshly on the blindfolded girl’s soft, tender slit.

  Mary was shocked by the violent explosion of pain in her loins. She screamed and yelled as it coursed through her. The vibrations of Mary’s throat sent a jolt of intense pleasure through Huong’s encased meat. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the product of his cruelty. When he sensed that Mary had begun to choke and gag desperately for air, he slowly withdrew his tool until she was able to draw an agonized breath. When she had refilled her lungs with air, he slowly and deliberately pushed his meat back down into her, and, when it was embedded, struck the helpless girl again with the whip.

  Mary struggled and screamed each time the whip bit at her loins. Each time, the vibrations of her throat sent a wave of pleasure flowed through Huong’s manhood. Each time, he withdrew it only when Mary’s chest began to heave in protest at the lack of oxygen. Finally, his lust rising, his blood boiling, he shoved his cock deeply into Mary’s tortured throat and spilled his hot seed inside.

  He was sated. The slave girl had given him much pleasure. He released her head and let her fall gently to her side. Rolling her to her stomach, he released her wrists and ankles and then rejoined them, wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle. He walked to the cabinet and returned with a thick, leather plug. After removing the ring gag from the sobbing girl’s mouth, he pushed the thick wad of leather inside and buckled the gag behind her head.

  He walked to the couch and slowly and deliberately dressed. When he was done, he walked back onto the mat and knelt down to the helpless, supine girl. He placed his mouth by her ear and whispered to her softly.

  “Soon, I will be very rich. When that happens, I will return here to claim you and bring you home with me.”

  He rose, paused to appreciate the delightful flesh of the dismal girl, and left.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LANA GOES DANCING

  Mary spent the next few days recovering from her ordeal in the infirmary. As soon as Col. Huong had left, she was rescued by her slave supervisor, Giselle. The use of slave girls throughout Klitzman’s resort was carefully monitored, especially with new guests. Drunken fisted brutality was not tolerated. Each girl represented an investment and broken bones, smashed faces and other disfigurements were not generally allowed. There were exceptions, of course, but only for special guests. And so Huong’s torture of the young girl was observed by a concealed video camera. Giselle was aware that Mary would be in need of some assistance before Hung had even left.

  The girl could hardly move when Giselle released her from her bonds. Giselle asked, very politely, one of the guards to carry Mary to the infirmary where her muscles were quickly iced down to inhibit swelling and she was given a muscle relaxant. But nothing could dispel Mary’s frantic fear of Huong’s eventual return.

  It was time for the other girls from that fateful plane trip to take their places within the resort. Lana had been selected for something special. She had never thought of herself as beautiful or sultry, but many women underestimate their charms, and Lana was one of them. She had thinned out some as a result of her training regimen, and the exercise had helped tone an already graceful, desirable form.

  Madam Dupre was always on the lookout for those special girls who could serve in the so called ‘lounges’ of the resort. The men who came here expected a sexually liberating experience and ready access to beautiful, willing young women. But they needed some entertainment too. The lounges served to provide some distraction for the guests. There was a jazz club, where tapes of modern and classical jazz was mixed with live performances by women who had been especially recruited for that purpose. They were slave girls, naturally, and they were available, when off duty, for the guests’ amusement.

  The resort also had a strip club, a rock and roll club, no headbanger music allowed, and a disco. The women who worked these clubs were dressed in provocative fashions, appropriate for the club’s ambiance, and were available to be ‘picked up’ as it were, by the gentlemen who visited there. Supervisors, men who were either directly employed by the resort, or men who had positions of trust in one or the other of Klitzman’s many worldwide e
ndeavors, were discouraged from picking up girls in the clubs, except when they were in the process of entertaining a guest. Those girls were made available to the supervisors by special arrangement, however.

  But the lounges were principally designed for the guests. Guests were either men of great power and political influence or men of vast wealth who could afford the resort’s steep fees. All of the men who came as guests were carefully vetted before membership was proffered. And they were sworn to absolute secrecy, a pledge secured by their very lives and the lives of those around them. It was easy to discern the guests from the supervisors. Guests wore soft, cotton robes of pastel blue. Supervisors wore similar robes of reddish brown. No personal clothing was permitted in the main resort compound, no personal property, no cash, no identification, no cell phones, no jewelry. Everything was checked at the gate. And if the robes were somewhat off-putting to guests or supervisors when they first arrived, they soon got used to them because everyone was wearing one. Even the guards, who wore robes dyed coal black.

  Dupre had Lana’s background material, and much was known of her prior life. When recruited by the man she knew as Paderovski for the modeling scam, Lana had answered an extensive questionnaire about her life. Dancing had been high on her list of favorite activities.

  And so when Lana entered Madam Dupre’s suite on the instructions of Giselle, her female supervisor, strictly distinguishable from the male supervisors in both rights and authority, the manager of the disco lounge was sitting in a comfortable, padded chair adjacent to Dupre’s regency styled couch. Dupre was behind her desk.

  When Lana had learned of her summons to Madam Dupre’s chambers, she had quailed in fear. The slave mistress was well known for her cruelty and often girls who were summoned there were never seen again. But she steeled her nerves and entered the office prepared for the worst.

  The naked, black haired Latina stepped to the taped line that she had stood at the first day she had been brought down to the slave facility a little more than ten days ago. She placed her hands behind her head and spread her legs.

  Madam Dupre looked up at the slave girl. She was very attractive, and the training had done her good. Her plump breasts sat invitingly high on her chest. Her stomach was flat and tight. There was a trace of short, black hair surrounding her nether lips.

  “Well, Cholo,” she said to the lean light brown skinned man sitting on the chair, “what do you think?”

  Lana was surprised at Madam Dupre’s statement since she had not seen anyone else in the room when she entered. She dared not turn to see who the slave mistress was talking to.

  “From where I sit,” the wiry man replied, “she looks pretty good.”

  “Lana, please turn around for Master Cholo.” Dupre instructed her.

  The slave girl turned her body around without moving her hands from behind her head. The lighting in Madam Dupre’s office was soft, but good. She saw the man who Dupre had spoken to. Her heart skipped. He was mean looking, with a broad scar across the right side of his face, obscured slightly by a rough, black beard. He had piercing eyes and a tight, thin lipped mouth. His jet black hair was carefully styled. He was wearing the reddish brown robe of a supervisor.

  “She has excellent tits,” he said as his eyes glossed over Lana’s form. “Come here,” he ordered the girl.

  Lana fearfully stepped closer to the man. She stopped when her knees were almost touching his. He leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands on her hips. His eyes carefully examined her flesh. He tested the firmness of her thighs and the flatness of her stomach. He motioned for her to lean over and placed his hands on her quivering breasts. Lana knew that she was being measured, but for what? Should she hope to please this cruel looking man, or should she pray that he rejected her? She gasped slightly when Cholo pinched her thick, prominent nipples.

  “Looks good,” Cholo said, almost to himself. He moved a hand between her thighs and grabbed her labia between his thumb and forefinger. When he squeezed them tightly, Lana winced with pain, a reaction that Cholo closely observed since, as she was still leaning over, her breasts floating free from her body, her face was inches from his. She felt the man’s hand begin to stroke her sex. Cholo was watching her face carefully as he looked for signs of nascent passion.

  Lana had always been a passionate girl. Manuelo had not been her first lover. She had lost her virginity at fifteen to a lanky, dark skinned Cuban boy. Sex had been an important part of her life ever since, although she had been careful not to develop a reputation as a whore or an easy lay. She usually stuck with one partner for several months or more and was always careful to use protection. Since her arrival at Klitzman’s island, her sexuality had blossomed although she had not developed the obsessive craving for it as had Sheila. When the fucking was good, her body enjoyed it, even as her mind rebelled against it.

  As Cholo continued to caress her moistened slit and her little bud of pleasure, it was not long before Lana’s cunt was oozing lubrication and her plush nether lips had engorged. Cholo was gently rubbing her hardened clit when she gave out a little sigh of incipient lust. Her face had reflected her growing physical desire, and Cholo had noticed it.

  He withdrew his hand and waived Lana away. “I’ll give her a try,” he told Dupre. “I’ll take her over to the club now and give her a workout.”

  Lana had heard of the clubs from the other slave girls. The girls who worked them as waitresses resided in the slave dorm. They had talked about the beautiful dresses that the ‘lounge girls’ wore. And the lounge girls had their own dormitory and got special privileges. If she had to serve as a slave, that sounded better than the other slave duties that had been described to her. But what about this harsh looking man? Would he beat her? He would certainly fuck her.

  Cholo gut up from the chair. “If you have gag, I’ll take her up now.”

  Madam Dupre pressed the intercom on her desk. A female voice answered. “Yes, mistress.”

  “Bring me a travel gag.”

  “Yes, mistress,” the girl answered.

  Moments later, Madam Dupre’s short, pixie-like secretary entered the room. Her tiny breasts were connected by a silver chain. The ends of the chain were connected to delicate silver rings through her nipples. Hanging in the middle of the chain was a small black disc, bearing the emblem of the resort, the cursive, red ‘k’. She carried a thick leather gag connected to a leather shield that covered the whole lower face and the jaw, and a strap to be buckled behind the head. She handed it to Cholo who inserted the gag into Lana’s docile mouth. He pulled the belt tight forcing the leather plug in deeply. The lower half of her face was now concealed and confined.

  Cholo had a four foot long steel chain leash in the pocket of his robe. It had a bright red leather handle. He connected the leash to Lana’s collar and pulled her from the room.

  Lana realized that she was now in the custody of this unknown man. She had not been fucked since she had been released from Rukimo’s dungeon, but she expected she would be soon. She scurried behind the swift walking man, Her hands still joined behind her head, careful to maintain her balance on her bright red, high heel shoes.

  Once Cholo had brought her upstairs on the elevator, he led her down one of the red brick paths. Lana was unused to the tropical heat and she began to sweat as she was hurried along. She could hear the click of her heels on the red brick pathway. She stared at the seemingly numberless naked and gagged women moving quickly around them. The men she saw walked leisurely, smiling and joking with one another. It was strange to be trotting among them, her breasts jolting with each hurried step, with nary a glance at her naked form.

  The outside of the disco club looked like any other that you might find in New York, Miami or Los Angeles. It had a dark green canopy over the entrance and a set of neon lights overhead that announced “The Inferno”. It was about 11 A.M. and the club was empty except for two of the native servants who were restocking the bars. There were two large semi-circular bars on ea
ch side of the room. The ceiling was mirrored and the walls were painted black. The dance floor was in between the bars and had light fixtures set in the tile. It was well air-conditioned, as were all of the resort buildings. Cholo led Lana towards the far side of the room. There was a stairway going up and down. Cholo took the down stairs. Lana almost fell as she tried to keep up with his pace on the stairs. The downstairs held the storage rooms for the liquor stock, a huge cooler for beer, Cholo’s office and a large dance studio. It had a shiny hard maple floor, a mirror along one wall and two loudspeakers mounted from the ceiling. There were several cages along one wall and a forlorn looking young woman was locked in one of them.

  Cholo looked at the gagged and bound woman in the cage. There was a telephone on the wall next to the door and he picked it up and dialed.

  After a moment, he spoke. “Yeah, this is Cholo. I thought I told you to get this cunt out of here….Yeah…..Yeah….Well I want her out before three this afternoon. The other girls have to warm up and I don’t want this bitch here when they arrive, got it?” He slammed down the phone. The girl in the cage just cringed.

  Lana was unhooked from the leash and her wrists were unbound. Cholo left her standing there while he walked through a doorway on the far side of the room. The doorway was built right into the mirrored wall. A moment later he reemerged. He was carrying a delicate, coffee colored dress, with rhinestones and sparkles strewn over it.

  “You’re about a size three, aren’t you?” he asked the girl.

  Lana was surprised to be asked anything. She was still gagged and so she could only answer the man with a nod.

  “Then put this on. What’s your shoe size?”

  Lana answered by holding up six fingers.

  Cholo went back through the door. Lana was ecstatic at the opportunity to wear clothes and quickly had the dress up over her head and down her hips. It was a little tight up front, but fit her shoulders nicely. The bodice was cut deep and her nipples rested just below the neckline. The skirt was cut away to the left and it draped diagonally to just below her left knee. She looked at herself in the mirror and swirled slowly around, letting the skirt billow out. If it weren’t for the stark leather shield over the lower half of her face, and the thick leather collar and bracelets, she would look lovely. She ran her hands down her hips, reveling in the touch of the soft fabric against her body.