She lifted her head a little at the sound of approaching footsteps, her eyes travelling up her Master's trousers until they had almost reached his face. She held her breath: would he be her salvation, or merely a continuation of the torment? This man had the power to be both. The heavy pressure of his booted foot at the back of her neck, pushing her face once again to the ground, was her answer.

 

"Not so fast. We're not done with you yet."

 

Isabelle whimpered. What on earth did he have left to do with her?! Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she lay obediently, naked and trembling on the floor, awaiting her fate. Master leant down and stroked her hair soothingly for a split second before dragging her to the little bench and putting her on it, on her back. It felt so horribly uncomfortable - hard and unyielding - although Isabelle had a feeling this would be the least of her problems.

 

He signalled to the others in the room, and two of the men - Maurice, and the man who'd held her upside down to spank her - came across to where she was lying on the bench, bent down, each grabbing an ankle, and stood to hold her legs wide apart. Once again she was displayed, lewdly and without any hint of decorousness or modesty, for all to see. And not just displayed; she was vulnerable, too, and almost unable to move. Another click of his fingers, and Master had another man - the one who had held her across his knee to spank her first - moving to her head, taking her wrists, and holding them tightly above her head. And now she was immobile.

 

Master knelt by the side of the bench, looking down at this poor, defenceless, naked girl who had already been brutally and savagely used and enjoyed and he knew, from the look in her eyes, that she had almost reached the very limit of her endurance.

 

"Ssshhhhhhhh. Nearly done now, my slut. Your punishment is nearly all over. We just have to make sure you've really learnt your lesson."

 

Isabelle couldn't even speak; fear and apprehension had paralysed her vocal chords. He kissed her gently, before moving his face between her legs and licking from her arsehole to her clit, several times, in long, slow strokes with the flat of his tongue, making her even wetter than she had already been. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the glorious sensuality of his actions, sighing deeply as she felt him push a finger into her, feeling around the velvety walls of the tight channel of her vagina, pushing another one in to join the first, pumping in slowly and deliberately.

 

Suddenly - without warning - he increased the tempo until he was pistoning his two fingers into her with speed.

 

"She's juicing up... so wet."

 

Now the two women, as well as the other men, had come forward, kneeling near to Second Officer Morgan, all of them with their eyes fixed on Isabelle's dripping, eager vulva.

 

Master slowed his fingers down again before pushing in a third. Another sigh from Isabelle; his fingers were long and thick, and she felt so deliciously full up. Slowly he finger-fucked her and gradually she realised that with each withdrawal of his hand he was spreading his fingers out a little, causing the slick, pink skin at the entrance to her vagina to stretch a little. She groaned... it felt so good!

 

Another finger... a fourth... went inside her with her barely even noticing; she was so wet, so turned on, and so well prepared to take him. He fucked her smoothly and slowly with half his hand inside her, the soft liquid squelches from wet skin on wet skin filled the room, along with Isabelle's helpless groans.

 

"Almost there now... Just my thumb to go...."

 

Her eyes flew open. His thumb too?!

 

"You can't! It won't go in! It's too big! I'm too small!"

 

The men holding her limbs wide gripped tightly as she struggled with the surging panic at the realisation of what her Master's intentions were.

 

"Hush. Calm yourself." His voice was gentle, and reassuring.

 

"You can and you will take my fist into your cunt, Isabelle. This will be the final part of your punishment. You will take it and you will do it for me, because it is what I demand."

 

All the while the pad of his thumb was circling her clitoris, not quite touching it but rubbing around it, bringing it to its fullest peak. Isabelle was in no position to fight, or refuse, and her Master was quick to notice her body slump a little as her mind acquiesced to his plan.

 

"Good girl."

 

Her head swam to those other times she'd been called that, and she barely heard her Master's instructions.

 

"You will have to help me. Getting my fist into you will require your collaboration, Isabelle. Think yourself open. Will your cunt to open for me. Relax yourself. Make it happen. You can do this."

 

She wasn't even sure she understood what he meant, but she shut her eyes and concentrated on relaxing her lower body, the very centre of herself. Mouths moved to her nipples, kissing and sucking gently, and instinctively her body arched upwards to meet the questing tongues. The movement seemed to open her up a little, giving Master better access and with barely any resistance the tip of his thumb slid into her to join his fingers.

 

"Mmmm. Good girl. Now...just think about accepting me inside you. I will go as slowly as I can. But I am not going to stop until I am wearing your cunt like a glove."

 

His words were punctuated by insistent inward pressure on her labia. Isabelle was starting to lose the focus of which part of her genitals were which. It all felt the same - anus, perineum, labia, vagina, clitoris - it all felt like it was being squashed and brutalised by a burning, searing weight that pressed relentlessly into her. She was losing the thread of what was happening, trying to ignore the remarks made by those watching her most intimate brutalisation.