by Sam West
“No.”
Now he was crouched behind Hope, lightly running his fingers along her slit. “Wet. Good, well done. You’re innate submissiveness is impressive.”
Innate submissiveness? What the fuck is he going on about, she thought.
He went over to the table by the window. She couldn’t see what he was doing because his broad back blocked the view but it looked as if he was preparing breakfast. She heard the scrape of a knife on toast and the sound of pouring liquid. Her stomach growled at such sounds, adding to her humiliation.
When he turned and walked their way she saw he was holding two bowls, which he placed in front of them.
Hope balked in horror. Surely he wasn’t expecting them to eat out of the bowls like dogs….
“Eat your toast. No hands allowed. I cut it up into nice little bite sized pieces for you.”
Now Isobel was really crying. “I can’t.”
The man sighed. “You are trying my patience. And you forgot to address me properly. Your punishment this afternoon is just going to get worse and worse the way you’re carrying on.”
Hope said nothing to her companion, but silently she willed her to shut up. Could she not see what was happening to the girl on the TV? Did she not understand that could be her up there if she didn’t pull herself together?
“Eat, you stupid bitches.”
Hope bowed her head, and going against every natural instinct she processed, she stuck her face into the bowl.
The girl next to her whimpered some more.
The man leaned over and grabbed the back of the girl’s head by her short black hair and shoved her face into the bowl.
“I said fucking eat.”
Hope picked up a piece of toast with her mouth and chewed. She watched the other two out of the corner of her eye, determined that she was not ever going to be the one to anger these bastards.
Methodically she ate the toast until her bowl was empty. The girl was a sobbing wreck next to her but Hope remained resolutely dry-eyed.
“Well done,” the man said, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. “I can’t wait to break you.”
A gentle knock on the door had the man standing upright.
A woman with a neat blonde bob entered the room. This one was fully clothed and entirely respectable looking. She was middle-aged and wearing non-descript, shapeless trousers and a tunic top; the type of woman you might see working in the town hall or behind the reception desk at a Doctor’s surgery.
“Good morning,” she said, in clipped, well-spoken tones.
“Morning. Don’t mind me, just go about your business,” the man who Hope only knew as ‘sir’ said.
She nodded briskly. In her hand she was holding a large leather briefcase, which she placed on the table by the window. If the porn on the TV bothered her, she didn’t show it.
“Right, which one of you girls is going to go first?”
Hope glanced at the sobbing girl next to her. It would be cruel to nominate her for whatever it was these arseholes planned to do.
“Me. I’ll go first.”
The woman regarded her sternly and Hope remembered the man’s instructions; no eye contact. Hastily she lowered her gaze.
“Right then young lady, on the sofa with you. Head on the arm rest, arms above your head and open your legs.”
Hope got to her feet and lay on the sofa as instructed. Her body trembled as the woman ran her cold gaze over her exposed body.
“Mick certainly picks some beauties,” she said matter of factly to the man. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-nine.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-nine? That’s a fair bit older than the norm. Still, she doesn’t look it.” She went over to the table and rummaged through her bag. “Now young lady, I would say that this won’t hurt, but that would be a lie. But I can quite assure you the pain will be absolutely nothing compared to what you will go through at The Factory.”
She pulled out a pot of wax, a spatula and some waxing strips. She started off at Hope’s ankles, working up her legs. The woman worked in silence, ripping out the tiny hairs. It wasn’t too painful, until she got to between her legs, that was.
“Now young lady, don’t pull that face, it’s only a little bit of hair removal, please keep still.”
Hope watched the woman smear the wax over her bikini line and pubic hair.
When she ripped out the hair, Hope screamed.
“Oh, hush. Don’t be such a cry baby.”
Hope bit her trembling lip and threw her head back in pain as the woman finished the job. The outside of her pussy throbbed in fiery agony and tears welled in her eyes.
Next she moved up to her exposed armpits. There was only the tiniest amount of stubble there, but apparently that had to go too. Hope winced in the pain that was sure to follow when the wax was smeared over the hair.
She screamed through gritted teeth when that too was ripped out.
“Her pain threshold is low,” the woman said, turning her head to speak to the man.
“I know. But it’s early days, she still has a long way to go.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Do you want me to do her eyebrows and lashes too? Is this one to be entirely hairless?”
“No, she’s going to keep that. Her long red hair is unique, Mick wants it to stay.”
“Understandable.”
“The other one will be hairless.”
The woman’s eyes glinted in approval. “Good.”
Isobel, who had been quietly sobbing the entire time, sobbed even harder. Both the man and the woman acted like they couldn’t hear her.
She’s a fucking sadist, Hope thought.
Now Hope’s body was entirely free of hair, the woman returned to her bag. She came back with two needles and syringes.
Hope cringed in fear. “No, please, don’t inject me with anything.”
“I trust you will be punishing her for all her whinging?” the woman said.
The man smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, she’ll get hers.”
“I am only taking blood so the factory can check for any diseases or STDs. And I’m giving you a birth control injection.”
Hope stared up at her with wild eyes.
Relax, she told herself. Just go with it.
She passively let the woman take blood and inject her with the birth control.
If that’s even what it is, a dark part of her mind whispered. They could be injecting all kinds of poisonous shit into my body…
“There, all done. Mick would like to see you now, you are to go to his office. Down the corridor, third door on your left.”
Hope got to her feet, her skin burning and tender where she had been waxed.
What’s to stop me just walking out of here, she thought, when the she was outside alone in the corridor and the front door loomed ahead of her.
Because you’re naked, that’s why. And the door will be locked anyway.
She easily located the office door, recognising it from yesterday.
Tentatively she knocked before pushing it open.
Mick was sitting behind his desk, his fingers laced behind his head and his feet on the desk.
“Come in. Shut the door. Sit down.”
She sat opposite him. Already she was almost getting used to her constant nudity. Not that she was happy about it, just that it was no longer at the forefront of her mind all the time.
“I trust you slept well?” he asked, sitting himself properly at his desk.
His polite question was so at odds with her situation she simply did not know how to answer.
“No matter. I see you have been waxed. That’s much better. Open your legs for me, let me properly see what you’ve got to offer.”
Despite everything she had been through last night and this morning, she blushed hot.
“Please,” she said pathetically.
“Spare me the blushing virgin act. You know you are free to leave at any time. You might think you are here for
your brother’s sake, but we both know that’s a lie. You are here because you want to be.”
“No! That’s not true.”
“Really?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “Do as you’re told Hope. You know what will happen to your brother if you don’t.”
She closed her eyes and opened her legs.
“Nice. Very nice indeed. You have a beautiful cunt, Hope. Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did, squirming beneath his gaze. Even from this distance she could see his pupils were dilated, flooding his icy green eyes with black lust.
Despite her abject humiliation, she held his gaze. She had to step up to the game; she knew that was her best chance in the long term.
Best chance for what? Becoming a sex slave?
She pushed away the nasty thoughts.
“As soon as your training is complete, you will be all mine. I can hardly wait.” He smiled a reptilian smile and inside she shrivelled in a mix of shame and disgust.
“Please, you don’t have to do this. I’ll get you the money my brother owes, somehow, someway. I swear –“
“Silence!” he shouted, his fist banging down on the desk, making her flinch. He continued in a gentler voice. “You should consider yourself lucky. Every single other girl at the factory are used by men for the rest of their lives. Or at least until they are no longer sexually desirable.”
Dear God, she thought but didn’t say. What happens them? When they are deemed not desirable anymore? A happy retirement? I don’t think so…
“Not only am I offering you this chance, at the end of the year I will make sure that you and your brother are financially set up for the rest of your lives.”
“How can I trust you?”
“I will have a legally binding contract drawn up when your training is complete. So what do you say?”
An image of her brother’s sweet face blazed in her mind. What else could she do?
“I’ll do whatever you want,” she said softly.
“Good. Now get the hell out of here. Do exactly as you’re told by my staff at all times, otherwise the deal is off. You have my word that no harm will befall you all the while you are in my care. Whatever you see happening to the other girls, you are protected, do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, when she really didn’t.
“Good. Although that is not to say that you will be exempt from experiencing pain, I am afraid that is an intrinsic part of training. But you will incur no lasting damage or undergo any body modification. If you have any further questions, now is the time to ask them.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me? Of all the girls you could take for yourself, why me?”
“Enough questions. Get the fuck out of my sight.”
His tone was harsh, but she refused to heed the warning in it. “You said you’d answer my questions.”
“Don’t you dare fucking backchat me! This is why you are undergoing training, I hate backchatting. Get out of my office. Now.”
Hope drew her thighs together and got up off the chair. Mick’s face was red. Hope had no idea why her question had made him so mad. He did say she could ask anything...
His anger was a tangible presence in the room and she didn’t hang around to see where it might lead.
When she stepped outside the office, the man whom she was to address as ‘sir’ was waiting for her.
“Follow me,” he said matter-of-factly.
Hope assumed she would be going back to the same room as before, but he led her further down the corridor. As they passed the room she could hear Isobel screaming. The sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The screams were highly disproportionate for somebody getting a full body wax. It sounded like the girl was being murdered.
Nervously she followed the man, fearing for Isobel but not daring to ask the man what was happening to her.
They had reached the door at the far end when the man turned round to face her.
“You are a very lucky woman,” he said. “I hope you realise that.”
She remembered her instructions; that she was not to make direct eye contact unless instructed. She was sure to honour that rule when she spoke;
“Yeah, I’m real lucky. I’m so happy to be me right now.”
He moved so fast she let out a short, sharp scream of shock. He had her pinned against the closed door, one meaty hand around her neck and his body pressed up against hers. The blast of his hot breath was sour in her face; the stale stench of cigarettes and coffee and just an undefinable odour lurking beneath that she found abhorrent simply because it was the smell of him and he sacred her.
“You’re a fucking jammy bitch. I’m not allowed to hurt you, but by God I want to fucking hurt you. I want to do things to you that would make you scream in horror.”
As he spoke he twisted one of her nipples hard. She forced down a scream. Instinctively she sensed that was what he wanted so she refused to give him the satisfaction.
To her relief he let go of her nipple and instead cupped her heavy breast, moulding and squeezing it in his big hand like it was made of playdough.
“I don’t know why Mick has singled you out, but he has. You aren’t to be treated like the other girls. You’re special to him, though fuck knows why. Still, at least you get to spend a few days with The Breaker.”
“Who, or what, is The Breaker?”
The man smiled nastily. “Every girl spends a few one-on-one days with him. He isn’t called The Breaker for nothing. He will break you down so you are a blank slate for The Factory to mould.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rohan Sanders was waiting for the latest to enter his lair. His lair was a torture chamber in the basement, the equipment in it capable of striking fear into the heart of even the most hardened masochist. Every conceivable torture device adorned the vast, high-ceilinged room, from racks to cattle prods to a genuine, medieval Iron Maiden. The entire back wall was filled with shelves that groaned with hospital saws and scalpels and hundreds of sharp tools. That was the ‘operating area’, complete with metal gurney with leather straps straight out of a Victorian mental asylum. Literally.
Rohan liked to think of the room as ‘his’, when in fact it was used for other purposes too. Mainly, it was used to film the snuff movies that The Factory specialised in.
What instrument of torture he used depended on the girl delivered to him. Some, like the girl due today, were not to be physically hurt. Some of them were delivered to him to be physically ‘broken’ to a lesser or larger degree. Maybe lose a leg here, or a hand there. Sometimes he was ordered to make a blind, deaf mute – the ultimate in submissive sex slaves.
And some came to him to die, off camera.
He leaned against the X-frame, suddenly weary. What specimen of female would walk down those basement stairs today? Maybe it would be one of the hapless women he had introduced to The Factory. Or maybe not. It hardly mattered. They were all basically the same. Unfortunate souls who, for whatever reason, had fallen onto life’s bad track.
Rohan was just going to help them along it a little further. Really he was doing them a favour, they would’ve found hell eventually, with or without his help. This one might be interesting though, according to the staff she was a natural submissive and that was rarer than a virgin in this day and age.
Rohan was good at his job. He was good at breaking women. He possessed just the right level of detachment to do what he did extremely well. He neither loved it, nor hated it. He just did it.
Well, okay, perhaps that was a little bit of a lie. Sometimes he did love it, women were shit. His mother was shit, making him do all those things with all those men.
Whatever. The pay was excellent. Plus he would undoubtedly be murdered if he resigned. He knew too much, there was no way that Mick would let him live.
But apparently this woman that was coming to him now was different. She was Mick’s special pet. Rohan was given specific instructions
of what he could and couldn’t do to her. He wasn’t to fuck her for a start. This was most definitely a first for Rohan.
How did my life come to this? I’m not a bad person. At least, I never used to be. Not before my mum made me do those things…
Okay, so he admitted he had always lacked a certain empathy for his fellow man (or woman). But he had never actually killed anyone before Mick came into his life. He had just been a two-bit criminal, a thug with deceivingly boyish, innocent looks, looks that Mick had exploited and put to good use. The same looks that had made him very popular as a kid with his mum’s ‘friends’.
He sighed heavily. He was dwelling again, he had been doing that a lot since yesterday. Since her. Since the beautiful redhead called Hope Hill had climbed into his car, and his head.
There was just something about her. Something so knowing, yet so innocent.
Rohan had developed a crush on a beautiful, mysterious stranger, which wasn’t like him at all. This was the closest he had come to feeling any kind of emotion for years. Maybe a large part of the attraction was sexual, but it was more than that. She had touched him emotionally in a way he didn’t think was possible. The only person Rohan usually cared about was himself.
I’m losing my mind, mooning over a complete stranger.
The image of her face burned bright in his mind surrounded by that flaming red hair. God, the way she had looked at him, the way she had seen past the crap and peered into his very soul. She was an angel, he was convinced of it.
I’m so sick of it all. But he was stuck in the life that he had created. No way out. Not for me, no siree.
Yes, a little voice whispered from the darkest corner of his mind, there is a way out…
He fingered the grip of the handgun that was tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans.
A knock at the top of the thirteen stairs that led to the dungeon of hell snapped his attention back to reality.
And here she comes now, he thought glumly. My latest charge. At least I don’t have to kill this one…
The door swung inwards and two figures, one large, one small, stood illuminated in the bright light of the hallway. The larger figure whom he recognised as one of the factory heavies, pushed the woman onto the top step and slammed the door behind her.