PROLOGUE - Leah
By Tom Jefferson
It was at the
athletics meeting when I saw her, and I knew straight away that she was what I
wanted.
If that sounds like a
coincidence, it wasn't. I like sporty girls, and I had gone to the meeting
specifically to see if there was anybody there who took my fancy. She certainly
hit the spot and, although she didn't yet know it, that would be unfortunate
for her.
I would guess she was
a little under 60 kilos, whatever that is in stones and pounds, but certainly
fairly light. She wasn't that tall, but she was beautifully proportioned. That
could easily be seen, because she was wearing a tight crop top and equally
tight shorts, not to show herself off but for best results in her competitions.
It did show her body off superbly, though. She was sleek, toned, not muscular
in a masculine sense but certainly very well defined. When she walked, she
moved like a panther, and the taut muscles flowed under her skin in much the
same way. She had long, straight, light brown hair, pinned effectively into a
pony tail behind her. Her stomach was flat, but not harshly so. Her legs were beautifully
shapely and also benefitted from her athletic tone.
I didn't want to get
too close, but I moved close enough to see light blue eyes, with a fierce, piercing
look. She was, I later discovered, only just turned eighteen, which perhaps
explained the wonderfully textured, milky smooth skin, which also seemed to
almost glow with health and vitality. There was an air of fiercely competitive
determination about her, like a tigress or some other form of wild big cat. It
all added up to a wonderful whole.
Her name was Leah
Brownstone, from a fairly well-to-do background, but not a background so
powerful that it would cause a massive hunt when she went missing. That was
another plus point.
Perhaps the final
clincher was a somewhat unusual choice of events in which she was competing.
The first was the 100 metre sprint, in which she showed both explosive power
and huge determination. But then, rather unusually, she was also a middle
distance runner, doing 1500 metres. And finally, she was a javelin thrower.
Such an idiosyncratic combination suggested a fierce independence of spirit,
not somebody hidebound by normal practice. And incidentally, she excelled in
all three, medalling in each against what looked to my amateur eye strong
opposition.
Yes, she was just
what I was looking for. I conversed with the man who accompanied me, and he
said he would arrange to acquire her. He ran a rather unusual agency, which
specialised in such "acquisitions", indeed was licensed to do so back in our
oasis town of Xanxta, a place where slavery was the accepted norm, as this girl
would soon find out.
PROLOGUE - Lucy
Lucy Garrington was,
in her own, quite different way, just as much of a wildcat as Leah Brownstone.
Both of her parents
worked in the pornography industry, her mother being a stripper and her father
adept both behind and in front of the camera, so her upbringing was rather
unconventional, though settled and always loving. But at school, she became
quite a rebel. Although she was quite bright, she showed no interest in studying,
except for those things which genuinely interested her. She wanted to follow
her parents into a career in porn and the sex industry, and school was not
relevant to that. Also, she took delight in shocking and defying her teachers.
Her despairing parents moved her from one school to the next. Going private
didn't help; at one point, they even tried a convent school. The poor nuns
learned more, albeit unwillingly, from her than she did from them in the six
weeks before the harassed Mother Superior told her father in no uncertain terms
but with considerable understatement that Lucy "didn't really fit in here" and
needed to continue her education elsewhere.
Lucy had inherited
her mother's good looks, and also had a superb, trim body. Her breasts were not
overly large but they were firm and perky, her tummy was flat and her bottom
and legs perfection, and her skin was soft and responsive. The boys soon took
interest, and she returned that interest avidly. Her parents, sensibly, bowed
to the inevitable and lectured her in precautions rather than abstinence. She
lost her virginity at the age of thirteen, and by the age of sixteen she was
quite experienced. She was able to be open with her parents about it, and they
in turn were able to ensure her safety and support her. She was quite an
exhibitionist as well, so summer family holidays, which in any case tended to
be beach holidays in warm climates, were in places where topless or nude
sunbathing was fine. Lucy's mother, still a very good looking woman herself and
still active in the porn industry, usually joined her in disrobing.
Lucy's eighteenth
birthday present was just what she wanted: her parents booked her to appear at
a strip club. Her mother taught her the moves for weeks beforehand, and on the
night, both parents watched with pride. Lucy loved every moment, and at times
had to stop herself from actually orgasming on stage, such was the thrill of
it.
Up until that point,
she had held only mundane jobs where she usually got the sack within a week or
two, but now she was eighteen, her parents were able to get her jobs of the
sort she had always wanted. A regular job at the strip club was a start, plus
web cam work, phone sex and then actual physical encounters. Her mum actually
worked her phone, ensuring her safety and making sure she was not ripped off.
Her mum also taught her how to suck cock and other sex techniques. Lucy also
discovered bondage and spanking and got into those activities as well. There
was a good, safe, well run establishment in London, quite near to where they
lived, where Lucy worked one day a week, plus occasional extra assignations,
and she loved it.
She enjoyed all of
her various activities and was developing a healthy bank balance. Life was
good, and it was about to get a whole lot better.
CHAPTER 1
Leah, a month
later
By Tom Jefferson
That same man sat in
my office back in Xanxta. I read the report he had given me with barely concealed
irritation.
"There's no need for
concern, Mr Jefferson," he said smoothly. "As always, there are no loose ends,
nothing to worry about. The Xanxta authorities have had my report and have satisfied
themselves completely."
I grunted. "How many
of your fingers did she break?"
He smiled unctuously,
and showed me the hand on which the index and second fingers were strapped
together. "Just the one," he said. "It's not a problem."
"And she broke three
ribs of one of your men," I read from the report.
"She gave him a
rather powerful kick before we were able to subdue her."
"Serves both of you
right," I observed testily. "You were with me when we first observed her.
Javelin thrower, runner, all-round athlete; you might have worked out that she
would have a bit of strength and fire."
He smiled again. "Not
a bit of strength, I can assure you: she was phenomenally strong, even more so
that we had anticipated. It took all three of us to hold her down and apply the
anaesthetic, and she struggled with unbelievable power. I don't think I've ever
encountered such a strong or determined young lady. But, as I said, we got it
done, and extraction from that point went as smoothly as ever."
I grunted again.
"Well, I'm not paying for your medical bills, or those of your employee," I
said firmly. "You get the standard fee and that's all."
"Of course," he said in
a placatory tone, though I could see he had been trying to work the
conversation towards trying to get me to contribute. He had no chance, and he now
knew it, probably always had known it but thought it worth a try. Well, it
wasn't.
"Have you delivered
her?"
"Yes, she is in your
reception room, as requested. She's still sedated, but she should be coming
round within the next few hours."
I noted his
squirming. "What else do you want to tell me?" I asked directly.
He made another
placatory gesture. "I feel I need to advise you that she is quite a wildcat,"
he said. "I have to professionally remind you that under the local regulations
for wild animals and untamed slaves, you'll need to be very careful with her
and keep her carefully restrained until you can break her in. And I would
suspect that will take quite a bit of time."
For the first time, I
smiled. "I'm counting on it," I replied. "I like a challenge; I wouldn't be a
successful businessman if I didn't." I wasn't idly boasting. I've built up
quite a fortune, which is why I can afford to live the way I do and be a force,
even in a place like Xanxta.
"Still," he insisted,
"I hope you will take all proper precautions. Now that we have handed her over,
properly secured, we cannot be held responsible for any future incident."
"Rest assured that my
staff and I are fully competent at handling such girls," I said airily, but I
decided I would hold a briefing before we began dealing with her. For all my
gruffness towards this man and his agency, they were smooth professionals who
abducted without leaving a trace, otherwise Xanxta would not authorise them.
The town takes such things very seriously, and rightly so. If this girl had put
up such a fight against three experienced kidnappers, she would need very
cautious handling. But my people and I were also expert, and very well equipped,
as the girl would shortly find out.
***
A few hours later, I
noted from the hidden camera that the girl was now fully awake, the sedatives
having worn off. I gave her a while to stew, then went to see her, accompanied
by my two slave handlers, Bill and Ben. Those were my names for them; both were
large, muscular Arabic types, with perfect English but usually not given to
talking much. They accepted my names for them, but then, I was paying them good
salaries.
The girl looked up as
I entered the room, her blue eyes fierce. She tried to say something, but the
ball gag in her mouth rendered it completely unintelligible. Bill and Ben had
done a very good job of securing her: she was stood against a wall, metal bands
around her neck, wrists, lower arms, upper arms, waist, thighs, calves and
ankles all bolted to the wall so that she had absolutely no choice but to stand
with her arms raised by her sides, her thumbs level with her ears. She was
wearing a t-shirt, jeans and trainers, the clothes she had been abducted in;
all of them looked crumpled now after her long hours in transit. That would be
no matter shortly. I noted that they had put a black leather collar on her and
that there was a leather wristband around each of her slim wrists, all as per
my orders.
The girl repeated
what she was trying to say, more loudly but equally unintelligibly. I held my
hand up to quieten her, and told Bill to remove the gag. Even with him right
next to her, the metal bands kept her completely helpless. I would have liked
that cocksure agent to see that, to see my men's efficiency, but never mind.
She licked her dry
lips, and eyed me balefully. There was fear in the blue eyes, but plenty of
determination and anger as well. I was impressed that she was not in a state of
panic, though she was clearly holding herself together with an effort.
"Are you in charge
here?" she asked me, her voice firm.
"Indeed I am," I
replied suavely.
"Then get me out of
these chains, now!"
"I don't think that
would be a good idea."
She glared at me.
"Kidnapping is a serious offence," she said evenly. "If you let me go now, I'm
sure we can agree it was some kind of mistake."
I ignored this for
now. "Do you know where you are?" I asked.
"No," she replied
frankly.
It had been during a
cold spring in England when she was taken. In Xanxta it is always hot.
Naturally my house has air conditioning, but I don't have it on very high most
of the time. In this room it was very warm, and she would be able to tell that
it was climatic, not central heating.
"Well, you don't need
to know exactly which country you are in, but suffice it to say you are in an
Arabic or southern Asiatic country. As you will know, many of these countries
have rather ... different attitudes towards women, particularly western women.
This particular country runs a rather unique closed community, which is where
you are, in an oasis town with a lot of desert all around, which makes it
rather conveniently completely cut off from the outside world. The town is
called Xanxta. Here, slavery is openly legal, in fact part of the system. They
even allow us to, shall we say, import young women under certain circumstances
and licences. You have been selected and imported, and you are now, quite
legally here, a slave, and you belong to me."
She stared at me.
"You're crazy," she stated flatly.
I shrugged. "I have
to admit that it is a difficult thing to get used to. However, you are going to
have to learn quickly to keep a more civil tongue in your head. You will note
the wristbands you are wearing?"
Another impolite
retort came to her lips, but instead she turned to look at one of the
wristbands. "What about them?" she asked, her voice betraying no fear.
"You'll find them
quite impossible to remove. There is a steel band inside them which prevents
them from being cut, they won't stretch so you can't slip them off, and you
will see they each have a tiny lock to which you do not have the key. The same
applies to your slave collar." I produced a small remote device, which simply
had a three point dial setting and a button to push. "This wonderful toy, when
I press the button, sends a signal to your collar, which in turn relays it to
the two wristbands. They then emit a short but very effective electrical charge
which goes through your body."
"You're mad," she
began, but it turned into a loud yell of pain as I pressed the button. Her body
stiffened, and the sky blue eyes bulged for a long second; then she slumped in
her bonds. Were it not for the metal bands pinning her to the wall, she would
have fallen to the floor. As it was, the chains held her up, her legs no longer
supported her.
I waited for her to
recover. Slowly, she got back to her feet. "That hurt like Hell," she
protested.
"It's called an
agoniser," I told her. "Quite ingenious, really: the voltage, or amperage, I'm
never sure quite which, is set at a point which acutely inflames your nerve
endings. You can see from the remote" - I showed her the little box - "that
there are three settings. That was level one, the lowest. Level two is much
worse. Level three will cause you to pass out, though far from painlessly. That
level is mainly for security reasons, if we release you from your bondage at
some point and you get, shall we say, a little frisky."
"You can't keep me
here," she protested.
"But of course I can.
As I have already pointed out, slavery is not only allowed here but is part of
the legal system. Even if you escape this room, and this building, you will
find no help from the population, not even your fellow slaves. The police and
authorities will hunt you down and return you to me. Your collar also has a locating
mechanism, and you would be surprised at the range of both that and the remote
here. There are plenty of other precautions as well, which you will learn about
in due course."
"The authorities back
home will be looking for me."
"Certainly, but they
will be doing so back there, thousands of miles away. I assure you that your
removal from your country was done without a trace. The team which acquired you
is very professional in that regard, even if you were able to let off a little
steam before they subdued you." She said nothing; I could see her mind working
furiously, trying to find a loophole. I let her think about it all for a few
moments, then I moved on. "Now, there will obviously be various stages in your
training. What is acceptable now will not be accepted later. But for the
moment, you do not need to call me 'master' or even 'sir'; just reasonable
politeness, a lack of name-calling and so on, will do. Do you understand?"
"And if I
refuse?" I lifted the remote up, wordlessly.
She got the message, but said nothing, so I moved on further. "Naturally, you
don't believe much of what I am saying, which is fair enough under the
circumstances. We'll take you out and round the town tomorrow, so you'll see a
bit more then. Meanwhile, I'll give you a little example in-house." I turned to
Bill. "Go and get Slave Ellie, please." Bill departed, and I took a seat. Leah
continued to say nothing.
I watched her eyes
open wide, however, when Ellie walked in. Ellie was stark naked, of course,
which was what took Leah by surprise, apart from her collar. She was a small
girl, barely five feet two inches, but with a beautifully proportioned body. The
big brown eyes and gentle expression gave her a Barbie-like presence but with a
delicious hint of innocence. Her glossy black hair, tied in a pony tail, reached
down past her bare shoulders and nestled in the centre of her equally bare
back. She seemed now to accept her permanent nudity, a far cry from a couple of
months ago. I noticed with satisfaction that her superb bubble butt was covered
in very evident bruises; I had given her a substantial going over with a table
tennis bat yesterday. It had not been for any misdemeanour, but purely for my
entertainment. She came immediately over to me and knelt down, raising that
cute little bottom into the air as her lips kissed my feet, the way she had
been taught to greet me in front of strangers. Then she stood once more. "You wanted me, master?" she asked in that
cultured, beautifully modulated voice that I liked so much.
"Indeed, Tufty" I
replied. Tufty was one of my two nicknames
for her, chosen because of her small but quite pronounced bush of thick black
pubic hair; quite a bit of her mound was virtually hairless, but there was this
one sort of blob of hair which sprouted out almost like a square punk Mohican.
It wasn't cultivated that way, it was just the way it grew. She was naturally
far too young to be aware of the children's TV character of yesteryear which
the name came from. She had been clean shaven down there when she arrived, but
I prefer a little hair on my girls and when her pubic locks sprouted the way
they did, I had been as childishly delighted as she had been completely
embarrassed. The other nickname was Bubble Butt: her body was superb, with
those perky breasts, slim waist and lovely legs, but her bottom was her best
asset of all. Rarely had I seen such a cute derriere on a girl, and I've seen
plenty.
"This is my new
acquisition," I told her. "Her name is Slave Leah. Go and say hello."
She turned and went
over to Leah. "Hello, Slave Leah," she trilled. "I'm Slave Ellie."
"I'm not Slave Leah,
I'm just Leah," returned my captive frostily.
"Yes, Slave Leah,"
said Ellie agreeably.
"As I recall, you had
a similar frame of mind when you were first brought here," I said to Ellie.
"Yes, Master, I remember,"
Ellie replied.
"If you're suggesting
that I'm going to end up like her, you can forget it," Leah told me firmly.
I smiled. "I think
you said something like that as well, didn't you, Ellie?" I asked my little
girl.
"Yes, Master."
But you learnt to
change?"
"Yes, Master," Ellie
agreed. "You tamed me, just as you said you would."
I smiled. Tamed she
might be, but Ellie still had a delicious streak of defiance in her. She might
be tamed, but not yet fully broken. 'Tamed but not trained' was a phrase I had
used to her more than once. But I chose to ignore that for now. "You, see,
Slave Leah ..." I began.
"Don't call me that,"
Leah interrupted.
I ignored the
interruption. "There is one big similarity between you and Ellie here, and
three small dissimilarities. The similarity is that you are both slaves,
legally owned by me." I held my hand up to forestall another interruption.
"Whether you yet understand or accept that or not is irrelevant," I added.
"What is more interesting at the moment are the dissimilarities. Let me draw
your attention to those." The girl said nothing, regarding me warily. "Firstly,
I went on, "you are chained up firmly, whilst Ellie is not. Secondly, as she
says, Ellie is now tamed, whereas you as yet are not. Naturally, the first is
as a consequence of the second. The third is that Ellie is in proper slave
uniform, whereas you as yet are not."
"Proper slave
uniform? She's starkers!" Leah observed.
"Precisely. So we can
at least eliminate one of the dissimilarities straight away." I nodded to Ben.
"What do you mean?
What are you doing?" Leah asked nervously. Ben had produced a large pair of
scissors, designed to cut cloth easily. "No!" she shouted as she realised his
intention. "Stop!" Ignoring her, he pulled her t-shirt out of her shorts and
with three quick snips of the scissors cut it all the way to the neck. Two more
quick snips at the side and the ruined garment fell completely away. As she was
assimilating this, two equally quick cuts and the shorts fell away, leaving her
in white bra and panties.
"You bastards!" she
shouted, as much at me as at Ben.
"One moment, Ben," I
said quietly. The muscular minion moved back. The girl regarded me with fierce,
angry eyes. "You will recall," I reminded her, "that I said impoliteness and
bad language would not be tolerated."
"Go to Hell," she
snarled.
I smiled again, and
touched the button on the remote. Leah's head went back, as far as the
restraints allowed it to, and her body stiffened. A strangled cry escaped her
lips as the waves of pain coursed through her body. The charge ceased - it was
on an automatic three second timer - and she slumped forwards, but the metal
bands held her in place. I got up and stood right in front of her.
"You were saying?" I
asked mildly.
"I said go to Hell,"
she gasped, and then cried out as I sent another charge through her.
"I can do this all
day long," I said, again mildly. The agoniser's battery cells would last quite
a while, and were easily recharged.
"I'm sure you can,"
she said croakily. "I suppose it's how you get your kicks."
"Well, one of the
ways, yes," I admitted. "But if you keep a civil tongue in your head, I'll
stop."
She took a deep
breath and steadied herself. "Go to Hell," she repeated.
I was impressed; she
knew what was coming next, and put herself up for it. I pressed the red button
on the remote, and she stiffened and cried out again as more electricity
coursed through her lithe frame. Once more, as the current ceased, she slumped
in her bonds.
"Master, may I speak
to the slave?" Ellie asked from behind me.
I decided to allow
the intervention. I stepped back, and Ellie took my place in front of Leah.
"Our master is right," Ellie said to Leah; "he can do this all day long, and he
will until you stop being rude to him."
"Being rude? His toy
boy just cut half my clothes away! And he's not 'our' master; he might be yours
but he isn't mine." But I noticed she glanced at me with trepidation as she
made the declaration. I didn't touch the remote; I decided she hadn't been
unduly rude, though I could have taken exception to the 'toy boy' comment. But
I let it go.
"And he's going to
finish the job, whether you like it or not," Ellie pointed out, "so stop making
it harder for yourself."
"It's all right for
you," Leah retorted, "you obviously like walking around stark naked."
"No I don't" Ellie
replied quietly. "I hate it, but I don't have any choice." Now that was
interesting; I wasn't aware that Ellie was still that uncomfortable being nude.
She hid it well. Damn, that girl had some spirit! "And I've been where you are,
and I started off doing the same as you, and it didn't get me anywhere either,
so just keep quiet, OK?" Her fingers brushed Leah's flank in a gesture of
solidarity, then she stepped back.
"So," I said to Leah,
"may we continue?"
Leah glared at me.
"I'll say it just one more time," she said quietly. "Go to Hell."
Very impressive, I
thought. I almost wanted to spare her, but it was not a good idea. I pressed
the button, and she cried out one more time, and her underwear-clad body jerked
and then slumped once more. I was actually wondering if the agoniser would run
out of power soon; I couldn't recall the last time it had been called into
action so many times in a short period.
"Would you like to
say it one more time again?" I asked, my hand hovering over the button.
Leah pulled herself
back up. She knew she couldn't win, but she risked a final parting shot. "You
know what I'm thinking," she said.
Again I smiled. The
girl was smart: that was a neat way of conceding the round without losing face.
I decided she had earned that. This time. I nodded to Ben, who stepped forward
with the scissors again.
"No! Don't! Please!"
Ben ignored her, of
course. Two quick snips and the shoulder straps of the bra were history. One
more between the cups and the ruined garment fell away. Two more, one on each
hip on the waistband of the panties, and a quick tug, and she was naked.
"Bastards!" Leah
snarled again, and then yelped as I pressed the agoniser button once more. She
slumped in her bonds for a moment, then recovered her feet and just stared
wordlessly ahead of her, avoiding my eyes. I realised that she was quite
embarrassed.
She had nothing to be
ashamed of, though. Her body was quite superb. Beautifully toned, her muscles
rippled delightfully under her taut skin. Her stomach was flat, which is
actually not that common in a girl, and her boobs were firm and high, not too
large but that's the way I like them. She had an untrimmed triangle of light brown
pubic hair nestling between her tightly pressed thighs. Her legs were very
shapely, as I had already seen in the shorts. She was clearly a very sporty
girl, as I already knew.
"What do you think, Bubble
Butt?" I asked Slave Ellie.
"She's very pretty,
master," Ellie replied in that lovely, slightly upper class voice of hers. "She
looks very fit and strong, too," she added. She knew I liked fit girls. She was
no slouch in that department herself, but Leah was singularly impressive.
Leah said nothing,
but her face burned with shame.
"A worthwhile
addition to the household, do you think?" I asked Ellie.
"Yes, master," she
agreed.
"Talking of the
household," I went on conversationally, "tell me: which of the men in the
household do you like going with the least?"
Ellie didn't need to think. "The cook, master."
I thought as much,
but nevertheless I said casually, "the cook? Really?"
"Yes master," she
replied with feeling. "He's vile."
I waited. A little hush descended. Then Ellie said
quietly, "I shouldn't have used that word."
"A little impolite,"
I agreed.
"Sorry, master." She
sounded genuinely contrite, and perhaps she was, but she knew she wasn't going
to get away with it.
"Are your pegs
handy?"
She had prepared a
poker face. "I'll get them, master." She
hurried away and returned moments later with two clothes pegs, which she handed
me. Then she faced me, knowing what was coming. I grasped her right boob firmly
with one hand, opened the peg with the other and attached it to her
nipple. She controlled her reaction
well; just a slight gasp. I grasped the left boob and attached the other peg there;
again I was rewarded by a slight gasp. The pegs were tight ones, and her
nipples, as I knew well, were particularly sensitive.
"Th-thank you,
master." It was a required response.
I glanced at my
watch. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon," I observed. "Shall we say ninety
minutes?"
Ellie again
controlled her expression: her previous longest time with the pegs had been an
hour. "Yes, master, thank you master," she intoned. Already I could see the
wooden pegs digging into her sensitive nips; they stuck out almost proudly from
her bare chest.
"Now, where were we?"
I mused aloud. "Oh yes, you were saying that the cook is, well, not your
favourite sexual partner, shall we say?"
"Yes, master," said Ellie.
She knew what was coming.
"Go and find him and
screw him," I instructed her. "When you've finished, you can come back here and
tell your new colleague all about it."
"Yes, master," she
said, her face again impassive, but I had detected the slightest grimace at the
corner of her lovely mouth when I had given the order. She turned and hurried
off. I watched the bruised bubble butt as she departed, then turned my
attention back to Leah.
"Gag her," I ordered.
Bill and Ben moved forward quickly, so that the girl had barely time to start
protesting before one of them, by the simple expedient of pinching her nose,
made her open her mouth, whereupon the other pushed a ball gag in, expertly
avoiding any possibility of her biting him. They secured the ball gag and
stepped back. A completely incomprehensible "mmmmmggffff" came from behind the
gag. It was a large ball; no doubt her jaw muscles would soon be aching.
It was time for me to
check over my new toy. My hands roved everywhere, with no consideration for her
feelings or privacy, and of course ignoring the almost constant muffled
protests from behind the gag, though occasionally I gave her a touch of the
agoniser to quieten her down. She was all that I could have possibly expected
and more. Her flesh was beautifully smooth, firm but not hard, with the
vibrancy and energy of youth and impressive physical fitness, and currently
infused with her outrage and anger at my groping of her nude body. I could
almost feel the humiliation and anger seething inside her, but there was no
fear. What a magnificent specimen she was! Tamed and trained, she would make a
wonderful slave, and taming and training her was going to be a wonderful
challenge for me. But that was for later. Right now I enjoyed the perfect
contours of her body, the sleek musculature, the high, firm breasts, the perky
and excellently shaped bottom, the flat, pulsing stomach, the lithe thighs. Her
face, too, even distorted by the gag and her fury, was extremely pretty. I
spent a good ten minutes exploring her, including finding out that she was not
a virgin, before leaving her chained to the wall and departing, my faithful
entourage in tow.