The Pit of Pain
by Falconer Bridges


ISBN: 1-903687-20-9
Copyright Falconer Bridges
The Pit of Pain: first published 2002. The right of Falconer Bridges to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved


Also by Falconer Bridges
Tales From The Lodge (With Sean O'Kane)
The Brotherhood




Oh for a Falconer's voice . . .
William Shakespeare 1595




Thanks to Francine Whittaker for the woman's perspective.

One: October 21st

A BURST OF jagged lightning flashed the moonless, overcast midnight sky into momentary brilliance. Seconds later heavy crashes of thunder shook the ground as a sudden squall whipped the wind into an even greater fury, hammering raindrops the size of marbles into the faces of the twelve assembled Disciples. The approaching croak of a straining diesel motor rose over the howling wind and the Disciples shuffled in unconcealed anticipation as twin beams of headlights pierced the darkness, lighting up their robed and hooded figures.
An open-topped cattle truck with slatted wooden sides slowed to a halt on the gravelled drive in front of them, its lights flickering off to once more render the night an impenetrable sheet of black. From the shelter of the entrance to the ancient manor house, their spiritual leader the Sacred Nazarene, Peter, ordered The Disciples forwards as another sheet of lightning burst across the sky, highlighting a jumble of figures struggling amid the sawdust and sharp-edged wood shavings strewn over the flat bed of the truck. The diesel engine stuttered for a few final juddering revolutions before cutting off completely, allowing a new sound to replace its throaty roar. The sound of wailing. Of distress and confusion. The sound of terrified women.
For that is what the figures were. Bound, chained and blindfolded young women; bound so that they could not escape and blindfolded so that they could not see where their journey had taken them. But they had not been gagged because the two men transporting them revelled in the sound of their screams and wails. Cruel, heartless and unfeeling, James and David were Peter's two closest henchmen and as confirmed devotees to the creed of the 'Children of Aztor' they carried out their duties with unconcealed and unflagging zeal.
Jumping down from the cab, they bent against the wind as they hurried to the rear of the truck, dropped the tailgate and climbed inside. Eager with anticipation, snorting away the stench of the animals that had obviously been the original occupants of the truck until they were replaced by the girls, the Disciples clustered around as James and David began hauling the luckless captives to their feet. They were twelve in number, the same as The Disciples and in a pitiful state, patches of wet sawdust sticking to their faces and their shivering limbs. The incessant rain and the biting cold had assailed them all through their journey and what little clothing they wore clung to their soaking bodies. Despite the weather none of them was dressed in more than a thin dress or a top and skirt, nipples primed into erection by the intense cold sticking out through the material like thimbles. That is on those lucky enough to be wearing clothes, for not all of them were. Some were naked and from those girls it was not only the rain that flowed. The mixed semen of James and David dribbled from them, to be washed from their thighs and haunches by the unending downpour.
Unconcerned by the appalling weather or their surroundings the girls' captors had stopped the truck several times to beat and to fuck one or more of the girls. Some they had thrown on to a grass verge out in the country in order to carry out their sadistic assaults, while others had been taken on the floor of the truck in the midst of their companions. Now, lifting them without effort the two men slung the anguished figures of the girls one by one over the shoulders of the waiting men, who immediately carried them, helplessly struggling against their bonds, into the gloomy, forbidding interior of the house.
Before being borne away on the wings of the unrelenting wind, the girls' screams blended with the raging of the storm to produce an eerie, almost supernatural wailing. A wailing that was as nothing compared to what it would become in the ensuing few weeks as they suffered at the hands of The Disciples. They did not know it yet, but in the blood-chilling surroundings of the dungeons and the fearsome pit of pain that was the torture chamber, they were to be trained by those ruthless, bestial men as sex slaves. Slaves with no will of their own, who would be sold to the highest bidder in order to swell Aztor's coffers of gold; slaves who unable to help themselves, would grovel and beg to be allowed to indulge in all and every perversion their new Masters' inventive minds could conceive. The Children of Aztor had promised them sanctuary from an evil world that was headed for destruction, but had instead condemned them to a hellish future from which there would be no escape.
On that fateful stormy night they began their journey into submission. Once inside the manor the Disciples wasted no time and went straight into action, each one being assigned the task of subduing and training a particular girl. But not before they had all fucked every single one of them. During the course of that long night each Disciple was going to plunge his manhood into all twelve of the girls; into every available orifice.
And they would have the stamina to do it. Peter had not picked them for their intellect but for their physical strength and natural streetwise savvy. He needed followers that he could control, who would readily believe his teachings and would not too closely question his motives and his deeds; men who would soak up the particularly unusual sexual perquisites that allegiance to Aztor brought with it. And as they were manipulated by him, so in turn they exercised power and authority over the unfortunate girls who fell into their power.
In the forbiddingly medieval confines of the great Hall, each screaming, hysterical girl was either thrown to the ground, laid over a bench or just simply pushed up against a stone wall, and still blindfolded was ravished by her captor. Ripping off their hooded cassocks The Disciples presented terrifying figures, their muscular bodies gleaming with oil, leather hoods with zipped mouths hiding their features, their biceps were circled with studded leather bands and their hard, erect penises were bound with thin leather strips that looped around and under their testicles. Their scrotums bulged and their cocks pulsed as the straps exaggerated the size of their balls and generated monstrous erections.
Huge, artificially stimulated shafts mercilessly reamed and raked the girls' vaginas, the thin leather strips rasping their delicate insides. Each and every Disciple reached orgasm and ejaculated into his own slave's chosen orifice before cleaning his sticky penis on her pubic mound or with her hair. Leaving the girls where they lay, in the semi darkness, with the flickering light of the flaming torches throwing eerie shadows over their glistening bodies, the twelve Disciples formed a circle and with their arms draped over each other's shoulders, chanted a ritual homage to Aztor.
And then they really went to work.

The girls were in a veritable Hell that they yet had to see with their own eyes. They had suffered unbelievably and their poor abused bodies had felt every moment of their torment, but because they were still blindfolded, they had seen nothing. If they had thought that their pitiful state was as bad as it could ever be, then they were mistaken. Their anguish and misery was about to increase tenfold.
Hauling the girls to their feet, the Disciples ripped off the broad bands of coarse sticking plaster that had been use to cover their eyes. As they blinked in the flickering gloom, their sight adjusting to the dim light, the bedlam increased as first one girl, then another took in the full horror of her circumstances. It was their first look at the beasts who held them and horrified screams rent the air as they took in the awful baseness of their surroundings. The Disciples presented figures that would have done Bacchanalia itself proud, Roman gladiators never presented a more frightening or arrogantly cruel picture than they did.
The experience was too much for some of the girls, several of them slipping to the ground in a dead faint. Peter had been watching, supervising the proceedings and now a giant roar leapt from his lips.
"Quiet!"
That was all. The gleaming men immediately started to quell the cacophony. Finally, although complete silence had not been achieved, the only audible sounds were of subdued sobbing and tight gasps for breath. The atmosphere was heavy with smoke from the flaming torches lining the walls, but that was not all that hung in the air. Fear flowed from the girls, an almost tangible emotion that the gathered men could almost touch and taste. And that only added to their determination and eagerness to deal with the whores in their midst.
No further comment from Peter was necessary, the Disciples knew exactly how to deal with their captives. The room was packed with instruments of bondage; chains hung from the vast high ceiling, and iron hoops were sunk into the walls. Whipping posts, cages and other unfathomable constructions were everywhere, and whips, canes and every conceivable instrument of punishment were in abundant evidence.
One Disciple was selected to start the initiations, the others watching the proceedings with both a professional and lascivious interest. And held tight in the grip of their tormentors, still dripping sperm, the unfortunate girls were made to gather round and watch also. The purpose of that exercise was to concentrate and heighten their fears as they witnessed despicable practices being performed on their companions; awful sexual practises that they would soon themselves suffer, and eventually enjoy, at the hands of their own designated Master.
A particularly loathsome ape of a man with hard cruel eyes, The Disciple Louis, was chosen to commence the ritual. The security of the building and its valuable contents, the girls, had been the main task allotted to him by Peter and so as always he was accompanied by a vicious snarling guard dog, which with bared teeth was now straining on the end of a tight leash fastened to one of the iron hoops in the wall. Fondling the dog's head for a few moments to calm it down, Louis threw a lump of raw meat into its mouth and left it to its own devices while he concentrated on his own particular girl.
"What's your name then my lovely?"
The girl's reply was just a mumble, totally inaudible. His response to that was to grab both her breasts, one in each giant claw, and clamping them within his taloned fingers he pulled her to him, his face close to hers.
"Oh, come on, you can do better than that. And this time let me hear it."
She tried again, her terrified, stuttered answer being only marginally louder then her previous attempt.
"Elizabeth."
"Alright then Lizzie, I can guarantee that you're going to find this interesting."
Positively exuding evil, he pushed the trembling, bewildered girl down onto the cold flagstones of the floor, and stretching her flat out on her back he pulled her arms out behind her head. Wrapping a length of chain around her wrists he secured them together before linking the remaining length of chain to one of the large iron hoops set into the wall. Tugging on her shoulders, he pulled her prostrate form outwards from the wall so that her arms were fully stretched, her sinews and muscles clearly outlined under her skin.
When he had her properly in position, her neck lay between two iron bolts that were set into the floor. Horrified gasps burst from the lips of the watching girls as they saw what Louis was about to do next. From one of the racks of devices, he had selected a long iron bar that had been beaten flat to a thickness of an inch or so and a width of around three or four. The black, rust stained bar had a drilled hole at each end and a semi-circular hoop in the middle and was obviously of quite some weight as his biceps bulged as he lowered it down. Slotting the holes over the bolts set into the floor, he let the bar slide down until its two flat end sections rested on the floor and the hoop in the middle encased the girl's neck. He then slipped a large, industrial type wing nut onto to each bolt and began to tighten them down. The result was that, with an inch or so clearance from her neck there was no danger to the girl's breathing, but the bar pressed up against the underside of her chin, holding her head immobile and secured to the floor, so that she could only stare straight up into the murky gloom of the high ceiling. She would not be able to see anything else that he might do, unless he chose to do it directly over her upturned head. So her trepidation and anguished anticipation of his intentions would be increased a thousand fold.
Not so for the other girls. They could see everything and of course were meant to because that in turn would increase their own ordeal. For their hapless companion suffering at Louis' hands the torment was now mainly physical but until their time came, the others would be subject to ever increasing mental dread.
Disappearing into the gloom of one of the alcoves for a few moments, he returned equipped with several lengths of heavy white rope. Sadistically, his lips pulled back over his teeth, he taunted the prisoners by swinging the rope close to their faces before suddenly lashing his victim's breasts with the three-foot length that hung from his clenched fist. Instant vivid red weals erupted over her tender breast meat and her agonised screams only added to the general air of terror that surrounded the eleven other initiates. As if he were using a whip he snaked the rope over her stomach and her legs, raising more angry stripes and yelps of pain and then stood over her, ordering her into silence on the threat of even more severe punishment.
Straddling her body he moved forwards until his trussed penis hung long and heavy over her face, with his bell-end pointing straight down at her mouth. But he was not lining himself up for more oral sex, he had something entirely different in mind. Looping his fist around the girth of his shaft to ensure that his aim was accurate, he began to urinate.
Peter, together with James and David had been watching the proceedings critically and Louis now looked to him, firstly for commendation and when that was silently given, for permission to carry on. Accepting Peter's nodded assent, Louis turned back to the girl and with one hand under her knee, he lifted and doubled over one of her legs so that her calf was pressed up against the back of her thigh. Taking a length of the rope, he then looped it around her leg and bound her ankle tightly to her thigh, knotting the rope on each side of her thigh, so that a length was left hanging. The entire procedure was then repeated with her other leg, before they were both pushed wide apart, providing a clear and intimate view of her sex.
Utilising pulleys, the unused rope was then pulled tightly over hooks hanging from the ceiling and the girl's backside was hauled up until it was high in the air, at about waist height to Louis. She was now in a position where her head and neck were flat on the floor but her body was sloping upwards from her shoulders. It was ideal, with her legs spread so wide that every inch of her inner thighs and pudenda were presented without hindrance.
The view obviously aroused Louis because his leather bound penis gradually unwound into full erection until it pointed straight at the girl's already sperm filled vagina. His golden fountain had swilled away the emissions clinging to the outside of her labia but had not succeeded in washing away that which was held inside her body. But he could not now just plunge his shaft into her sex, he was supposed to be undertaking a specific series of steps in the girl's initiation. However, there was no doubt that he wanted to fuck her, and fuck her thoroughly, so once more he turned to Peter.
A wry smile on his face, Peter nodded again and Louis was up to the hilt inside her in the blink of an eye. Slung in the air, with Louis standing between her widespread legs, her widened and lubricated hole presented no barriers. Stuck up her as far as it was possible to go, thrusting and grunting like an animal, he hammered into her until his thigh muscles visibly tightened and jerking wildly he ejaculated into her. Long pumping spurts of hot semen shot into her, seemingly for minutes on end until his orgasm was finally sated. Pulling out of her with sperm still dripping from his penis, he wiped it clean over her pubes, her throbbing labia and still-tensed thighs.
That the other Disciples had enjoyed the spectacle was not in question as he was greeted with a rousing ovation, to which he responded by punching the air and strutting up and down in true gladiatorial fashion. Looking the epitome of evil with his hooded head and leather-clad body, his image was as far removed from the gentle person who had originally enticed the girl into the arms of The Children as it was possible to be.
It was now time for the punishment to begin in earnest.
And it did. Louis utilised just about every implement of correction available to him on Elizabeth's pain filled body; the cane, the paddle, the whip and the scourge to mention only a few. The cane came first. Taking his time, he had whipped several different lengths and thicknesses of bamboo back and forth, noting the sound of their passage and the resistance of the heavy air against them. He had finally selected a particularly knotted example, the gnarled joints being perfect for simultaneously inflicting multiple points of pain on his victim.
Louis' strokes fell with unrestrained severity, tramlines erupting all over the girl's tender body. Ridges of crimson abused skin lay parallel to valleys of white untouched flesh as each one flashed into being, her screams echoing back and forth between the cold stone walls of the hall. He beat her ferociously, the cane falling again and again onto her innocent young frame. And when he was finished with that instrument of pain, he did not return it to its rack but found another receptacle to house it - her vagina. Ramming as much of the cane as possible into her tunnel, with her contracting inner muscles holding it solidly in place, the long length projecting from her vagina had the appearance of a grotesque, elongated and stretched penis.
But there was more to come. Much more. The paddle he used in a most ingenious fashion; lying on the floor beneath her, he struck upwards at her buttocks and after several minutes her haunches were a mass of rapidly darkening crimson. And when he considered that that particular instrument had done its work, he made it do some more. Reversing it in his hand, he plunged the thick handle straight into her anus. Her resulting screams rang out and a murmur of appreciation ran through the assembled Disciples.
Both of the girl's most intimate orifices were now blocked and filled and leaving the paddle where it was, as an improvised butt plug, Louis next called upon a particular expertise denied to most of his equally evil-minded compatriots. An expertise that they would all dearly have loved to claim but which is only shared by the very few. Unlike them he genuinely knew how to handle a bullwhip. The crack, the slash and the cutting impact of that particularly awful length of plaited leather was awesome. A man really had to know what he was doing to use that dreadful implement without fear of calamitous results. But pain, fear and intimidation were the Children's stock in trade.
Louis wielded the thick whip with all the showmanship of a ringmaster. Around his head and between his legs, he slashed and cracked, laying it on the girl's body in between each stylistic move. But the full power of the lash always expended itself before the tip of the whip finally struck her body; the true mark of a whipmaster, because a bullwhip falling with all of its strength undiminished would rip tender flesh into shreds. Even so the girl had undergone an horrendous experience; her flesh was bruised and marked and now and again he had allowed the whip to curl around the cane or the paddle to tug at her inner parts. This was punishment for punishment's sake, the whole purpose of the initiation being to impress upon the girls their total subjugation to The Children; to make it more than clear that any and every horror could befall them if they did not capitulate to their captors' will. After enduring treatment such as that, it was a very rare girl who ever showed any later signs of rebellion.
When he was certain that she had thoroughly learned that fact, without any concern for the pain he might cause her, Louis pulled the cane and the paddle from her clasping, stretched holes.
And then he fucked her again, standing between her legs as before, his hands clutching her buttocks to pull her more fully onto his weapon as he plunged in and out of her. And after he had fucked her soundly and solidly, so did all the other Disciples, one after another until she was nothing more than a dazed, swaying receptacle of sperm. She had been taught a lesson she would never forget, the memory of which would ensure that in the days to come she would be a more than malleable subject for The Children to work on.
And then they started on the next girl.

Two: December 22nd

"FUCK ME NOW! Please Master."
The words came out of their own bidding, an uncontrollable pleading for fulfilment. Montague D'Arcy DuPont's face creased into a self-satisfied smile; Melinda could not help herself, he knew that. Her mind was a turmoil of frustration and her body a volcano of lust. And it had all been his doing. He really was a Master. A master of manipulation, and of control, but most of all a Master of women. And benefiting from the training she had received during the time she had been a resident Housegirl at The Lodge, that most exclusive of Gentlemen's clubs, Melinda was that much more susceptible to his expert handling of both her mind and her body.
A truly venerable institution, The Lodge was totally dedicated to the fulfilment of the sexual desires, particularly of the BDSM variety, of the most powerful, wealthy and influential of personages. In surroundings of the utmost luxury, members could indulge themselves in the most erotic of fantasies and the secrecy surrounding the Club and its associated activities, meant that very few people apart from the members themselves, knew of its existence. And membership of The Lodge was something that was not easy to achieve, even for the rich and famous. Wealth or celebrity was not enough, only refined gentlemen of the highest reputation and integrity were allowed to pass through its portals, with the only means of gaining entry being by personal invitation of the owner, John Carpenter.
Set in the midst of the rolling Berkshire countryside, The Lodge was kept safe from prying eyes not only by its remote location, but also by the most sophisticated state of the art security measures. And also by Yuri and Ivan. Formidable mute Russian twins, they supervised the physical security arrangements of the establishment and also assisted Madame Stalevsky in the supervision and training of the Housegirls. And Madame Stalevsky herself was The Lodge's most valuable asset. Forty-something years old, she was a former ballerina, being tall and long legged with surprisingly large and firm breasts for a woman of her height. Strict and authoritarian, she too was Russian and had been found by John Carpenter running a sophisticated House of Joy in Romania. He knew immediately that she was the woman that he wanted to help him set up and run The Lodge, and through a combination of personal charm and the offer of enormous financial gain he had persuaded her to come to England. She was given complete control over the Housegirls, training and disciplining them to become the very elite of their profession.
Melinda had once been one of those very Housegirls. And a very highly prized specimen at that. But over time, after giving him faultless service on every occasion that he had used her, Montague had come to value her even more than her benefactors at The Lodge did. So highly in fact, that much in the same way that he had cajoled one of his middle-eastern associates into selling him a top-flight Arab stallion, he had persuaded John Carpenter and an extremely reluctant Madame Stalevsky to release Melinda from her obligations to them and to hand her over to him. The price had been a king's ransom, almost as much as he had paid for the horse. But although having a black American father and an eastern European mother she was not pure bred, Montague did not rue his action for even one second. She was worth every single penny, and he looked upon her as the first in line of a new breed. A very desirable new breed.
After gaining her very ready agreement to the transaction, he had settled the account and removed her to his own country estate. And there she remained most of the time, perfectly happy to be close to her master and to belong to him alone. Submissive, sexually explosive and if he so required, domestically skilled, she continued to satisfy his every expectation of her. The only fault he had been able to find in her was the occasional barely concealed petulance she showed when he used other girls in her presence. Especially when his shaft was buried deep inside them, stoking their shuddering bodies into flame. Jealousy, he had concluded, and probably only to be expected. After all, his troop of Dobermans tended to snap at each other if he showed one of them more attention than the others. But just like any other pet, a girl had to know her place, and he kept Melinda firmly in hers.
Every once in a while however, he liked to take her back to The Lodge to show her off, and occasionally to share her with his closest friends. And this was one of those times. In a dungeon, deep in the ancient cellars of the building, Montague contemplated the results of his latest session with his favourite slave. Over the previous couple of hours he had ravaged, beaten, and stoked her delectable body into paroxysms of the most lustful sexual depravity. And at the same time he had filled her heart with the most fanciful schoolgirl visions of pure perfect love.
With her handcuffed wrists attached to the end of a length of heavy chain, her oiled body gleaming in the flickering glow of the flaming torches hanging from the walls, Melinda was suspended from a huge hook set in the stone ceiling. She had been up there for a long time by then and her wrists were showing the extent of her ordeal. Rubbed red raw by the constant chafing of the steel, they were obviously causing her great discomfort. But she did not complain. She knew better. And Montague himself was totally unconcerned; after all it was the duty of a slave to suffer. And in silence. Apart from that, he knew that in her mind the more she suffered without comment, the more it proved her devotion to her master. Him.
She was also naked. Except for the white lace-topped stockings that so sensuously contrasted with her coffee-coloured skin, and a pair of startlingly high stiletto-heeled ankle boots. Her arms stretched above her, she had been hauled up so that her feet were dangling a few feet above the floor. And clearly defined, taking all her weight, both the deltoid muscles in her shoulders and the triceps in her upper arms were pulled taut. The intolerable strain on them showed itself in her face, but again that was no concern of Montague's. She was a strong girl, he knew that. And he used that knowledge well. She could take all he intended to give her, and enjoy every moment of it. Sexual pleasure and physical torment alike, she would soak them both up. In fact, she already had.
Her perspiration-soaked frame hung before Montague like so much sacrificial meat, an offering to her God. He spun her slowly around on the chain, noting with satisfaction the clinical precision of the double tramlines left by the cane. He had laid those strokes with great care, everything had to be perfect. It was not only the effect the caning had on the girl that counted, although her reaction was of course important. No, to him the manner in which the strokes were delivered, the rippling of her meat as they landed, and the pattern imprinted upon her skin were of vital concern. And as usual, the results were perfect.
Then there were the weals that had resulted from the whiplashes he had delivered after the caning. Laid diagonally over the tramlines, the single raised ridges created a criss-cross design that would have been worthy of any modern artist. Whimsically, he toyed with the idea of photographing this piece of living art, wondering if it might not gain a place on the wall of some trendy gallery - even the Tate itself. He dismissed such a folly immediately, but did think that it had been an amusing idea.
And there were also her haunches. Even after the cane and the whip, he had not been fully content with his efforts. And so he had turned to the paddle. Completely different to the items of flagellation he had employed thus far, a blow from the paddle landed with a loud slap and its effect diffused over a wide area of rump flesh. And so her rear was now decorated with dark purple patches, small circles of unbruised coffee coloured skin dotted here and there, where the colander-holed paddle had struck mercilessly. But mercy is only a word. A word that was not in either his or Melinda's vocabulary. She loved pain and punishment and the sexual fulfilment that came with them, and Montague was a man guaranteed to deliver all three with perfection.
All in all it had been a splendid session and Montague did not need the results spelling out to him. Melinda ached and hurt, but at the same time she was thrilling in places where no thrills were normally felt, feeling sexual tinglings where other girls would have merely felt discomfort. That was what he had aimed for, and achieved. As he knew she would, she wanted him.
Again.
He had already treated her to a reaming that paradoxically had left her both physically drained and emotionally elated. Following the beating, after initially maltreating her breasts, he had fondled them with a gentleness that was belied by his stern, authoritative and seemingly unfeeling exterior persona. He had cupped the heavy mounds in his palms, weighing them and marvelling at their firmness and pliability. His hands flowed over them, squeezing and titillating as low moans escaped from the ineffective captivity of her mouth. Her ringed nipples, which only a short time before he had abused with callous ferocity, were sensuously suckled. With his little fingers, he had tugged on the rings, pulling and stretching her nipples to such a length that he was able to suck them between his lips sideways on. And the solid young flesh of her breasts had remained firm and undistorted as her nipples were pulled out, demonstrating the superb condition of her body. A condition in which he ensured that she kept herself.

He had then directed his attention to her poor tortured body. She was stroked and caressed, his lips running over the painful weals and tramlines until all her pain was swept away by a rising tide of arousal that left no place for anything but feelings of sexual gratification. Real or otherwise. And with Montague, sexual fulfilment was always of the ultimate quality. Unless that is he was playing with a girl. Teasing or punishing. Then she could expect to be brought to the brink, and abandoned. Left pulsing with desire and begging for release, with no possibility of that release being granted. It did them good. Kept them on their toes and taught them not to take anything for granted as far as he was concerned.
But Melinda had suffered no such fate that evening. After bringing her to the peak of expectation, he had stroked the smooth flesh of her inner thighs, caressed her lusting sex and plugged her full of hot aristocratic penis. A penis that promised, and gave, what no other had managed to do. A penis that drove her to distraction, thrusting and stoking her to a cataclysmic conclusion. And that conclusion had been so earth shattering that her body cried out for more. And so did she. Out loud!
Her outburst signalled to Montague that she was lusting after the taste of his penis on her tongue once again; for the magnificence of its girth filling her tunnel, and for the explosive orgasm that he always ensured she received when she was fortunate enough to be chosen by him. That was when she had been good. But now she had not, she had been very errant indeed.
To beg for satisfaction. To plead to be fucked. That was sacrilege.
She should have known better, and he would make sure that in future she never committed the same sin again. But Montague was not really sure that her transgression had not been coldly deliberate rather than a spontaneous outburst. Punishment was certain to result, she knew that, and so perhaps that had been her aim. It really did not matter, he was as game for more as she was. And it was a game that two could play.
She was begging for fulfilment and so the only obvious course for him to take was to ensure that she did not get it. He ran over the possibilities in his mind. There were many, but experience told him that the only thing that had ever appeared to trouble Melinda was the Cage. She hated being imprisoned in that abominable contraption and left in the darkness of the Dungeon. What is more, her performance on being released had always verged on the spectacular.
So, the Cage it would be.
Releasing her chained wrists, Montague ordered her down on to her hands and knees, and bade her crawl over the rough stone of the floor to that dreadful barred, open-fronted iron box, all the while bombarding her with lashes of the whip. There was just sufficient room for her to crawl inside, head first, and hunch herself up with her nose pressing against the cruel bars at the rear of the cage. He pushed the heavy slatted door closed, squeezing her even more tightly into the confines of the torturous box, and sealed it shut with an iron padlock of medieval size and appearance.
She was locked tight, in a situation that in time would result in the most excruciating of cramped agonies. And she was imprisoned in the most horrendous contraption she had ever experienced. Montague was superb. He knew exactly how to treat women, especially slaves. So, understandably her sobs of frustration fell on deaf ears as he abandoned her to a lonesome, oppressive incarceration. For how long, he had not decided, but it would have to be for a period of time sufficient to allow her to thoroughly contemplate, and atone for, her outrageous behaviour. In the meantime he would pop up to the bar for a malt whisky and join in the pre-Christmas celebrations, or perhaps challenge John Carpenter to a game of snooker.
And so Montague spent the next few hours in enjoyable social discourse with Carpenter. They did in fact have a few games of snooker, followed by a both enjoyable and profitable session in the casino. Profitable that is for Montague, not so for John Carpenter because as the owner of The Lodge he had to bear the losses. Following that they had retired to the bar, enjoying several good Havanas and no less a number of large single malt whiskies. It was only when Carpenter departed with the girl of his choice for the night that Montague remembered Melinda.
Her situation had completely slipped from his thoughts. But although she had by then been left imprisoned in that terrible iron cage for some considerable time, Montague was still not concerned. He knew Melinda well enough to imagine exactly what would have been going through her mind throughout that time. She would have been praying that he would soon release her and then give her a delicious thrashing; a thoroughly satisfying beating that would sharpen up and titillate her senses until she was tingling with expectation and desire. And after that, with a little luck, his thrusting manhood would transport her to paradise.
And that he would do.
Later.
In the meantime he had a somewhat more serious matter to consider. A matter he had pushed to the back of his mind, but that had now been brought to the fore by a recent event. The Brotherhood of The Sons of Adam, that extremely shadowy organisation of which he was a very highly placed figure, was becoming increasingly concerned about the activities of a quasi-religious secret society calling themselves The Children of Aztor. An apocalyptic 'doomsday cult', it was a body with ideals totally contrary to his own and those of his compatriots. The Brotherhood was ancient, as old as man himself and with untold wealth with which to follow its ideal, which was the triumph of good over evil. Its influence was worldwide and although it stood aloof from governments and the ever more powerful multi-national companies, it stepped in to influence their policies when necessary, and was not slow in destroying them if that too became a necessity.
And the effects of the evil activities of this particular sect were beginning to be felt everywhere. Apart from anything else, there were as yet unconfirmed reports that young women were being enticed into joining the cult on a promise of continuing life in Heaven after some supposedly forthcoming apocalypse, only to find themselves in a Hell on Earth of forced sex and slavery. And earlier that day he had been approached by Oliver Carlisle, a man who although he had suffered a great injustice years before at the hands of The Brotherhood, had nevertheless put patriotism before self and come to their aid when they desperately needed help in an operation that concerned the welfare of the Western world.
Hidden away in the depths of rural Brittany was Le Manoir, the French equivalent of The Lodge, which was owned by Oliver and he had allowed Duke, Montague's son, to use it as his base during an operation The Brotherhood had mounted against Aslan Myerberg some time previously. Myerberg was a fanatical terrorist and one of the most dangerous men on Earth, but unfortunately, in order to bring the affair to a satisfactory conclusion it had been necessary to allow him to escape. So the justice of The Brotherhood had not been dealt out to him and he was still at large. Even so, Oliver having originally been really nothing more than a very useful ally was now a very close and valued personal friend. And one whom it paid to cultivate.
He too had heard of 'The Children' but his interest was of a much more personal nature. He was certain that he had been caught up in their activities, believing that his eighteen-year-old daughter was one of the cult's so-called converts. A few weeks earlier he and his wife had received a somewhat garbled and incoherent telephone call from her in which she had said that she was being sheltered at the sanctuary of a man known as 'The Sacred Nazarene Peter'. He and his Disciples were magical people who served a space deity called Aztor; they were trying to save the world from destruction and she was safe and happy in their care.
Without giving them a chance to reply she had rung off with the final comment that they should make no attempt to find her. He had heard nothing since then and was now extremely concerned for her well-being. The police had not been able to come up with anything and despite enlisting the aid of his own vast army of contacts, he had got absolutely nowhere in his search for her. Now at his wits' end and berating himself for not doing so earlier, he had turned to Montague, who being the most powerful and influential man he knew, was the obvious person to ask for help.
One of the very few men outside of The Brotherhood to know of its existence, Oliver was well aware of the vast extra resources available to them and so he had asked Montague to use his considerable connections to try and locate his daughter, who he was certain was being held captive by the very people that unbeknown to him were so concerning Montague himself. After carefully weighing up various options, Montague finally came to a concrete decision: The Brotherhood, and himself in particular on behalf of his friend, would have to investigate the matter thoroughly.


At the same moment that Montague decided upon his plan of action, Olivia Carlisle, the daughter of his friend and the girl in question, was sobbing tears of abject misery. Her ankles and wrists were bound tightly together, and with her knees pulled up close to her breasts, she lay huddled upon filthy straw strewn over the earthen floor of a disgusting broken down hovel. A solid steel rod connected to her bonds was linked into a hoop in the wall, allowing her almost no movement whatsoever. Her long blonde tresses were matted, her face was smeared with dirt and only tatters of her dress still clung to her body. Torrential rain battered the ineffectual cracked tiling of the roof with the ferocity of machine gun bullets, and a stream of icy water dripped steadily down onto her forehead.
Her throbbing vagina was leaking sperm on to the prickly straw. And so was her anus. But at least it was only the sperm of one man, David. He had also ejaculated several times into her mouth and what sperm she had not swallowed dripped from her lips, any that remained in her mouth being imprisoned there by the ball-gag pulled tight against her tongue and buckled painfully at the back of her neck.
David had been training her now for several weeks and although he treated her no better than an animal and she hated him with all her being, at least he had saved her from a repeat of the events of the night that she had first been brought to that awful place. On that night, before he had claimed her for his own, a dozen 'starchildren' had taken turns to ravage her sex, abuse her rectum and thrust their rampant shafts past her lips and down into her throat. Their seed had spattered and pumped into her every orifice.
The abuse she had suffered was despicable. Again and again, one after another the rigid shafts of her tormentors had forced themselves into her most intimate places. Men she had come to trust had launched themselves upon her, sometimes three or four at a time. One would invade her vagina, while another plugged her anus, both of their great shafts raking and reaming her mercilessly at the same time. Up and down, in and out, shaft after shaft plunged into her body.
And the others had not been idle while that was taking place. In order to gain sexual release, in turn they had filled her mouth or worked their penises between her breasts or the cheeks of her bottom. Finding no space available for them to gain actual access to her body, some had stood masturbating, aroused and excited by the scene of carnal abuse before them, sending showers of sperm not only all over her, but also over their accomplices.
And they had wallowed in it. Like pigs in mud. They had been ecstatic, whooping and encouraging each other to greater and greater acts of depravity. She would never have believed that the penises of two different men could be thrust up into her vagina at the same time. But now she knew that they could. And not only that, fingers could be pushed into her on either side of the pulsing shafts. They could, and they were.
The plunging, thrusting weapons had seemed to batter themselves into her for countless aeons and she lost all sense of time and place under their constant barrage. Spurt after shuddering spurt of hot sperm was pumped into her, into every available hole, hump or hollow. How long her ordeal had actually lasted she really had no idea, but it seemed as if it had been forever. Finally, whether it was because none of them could raise another erection or because they had been summoned elsewhere, they had ceased abusing her. After wiping their slimy shafts on her tortured flesh, they had taken turns to beat her as she was carried from the hall and chained in the same bestial surroundings in which she now lay.
It had all started in so different a manner. A passport to new Eden was what she had been offered. For the time being, an untroubled life in a metaphorically green and promised land, and later at the ascendance, in Heaven itself. But instead, at the hands of the charismatic Children of Aztor all she had found was degradation, pain and sexual depravity.
All had gone well for the first few days. Initially she had been approached and then entranced by a man with an electrifying aura, an indefinable magnetism, and to her the undeniable appearance of a blessed figure. A man who had given his name only as Peter. Totally contrary to her normal character she had become entranced as she listened to his words, unbelievable words. Words so outrageous that under any other circumstances she would have considered the man to be deranged. But he had bewitched her, so much so, that of her own free will she had eventually agreed to go with him to their 'church', to learn more about them and their doctrine.
The world was about to end she had been told. And very soon. But the Spacegod Aztor would see to it that all who converted to the faith would be saved and he had sent Peter to England from America charged with the mission of gathering more souls to the flock. When the apocalypse came, those who had chosen to redeem their souls by following him and joining the fellowship of The Children of Aztor would be taken off the Earth in successive waves by starships that had remained invisible in the skies since the First Coming. And when the inferno was over, they would be returned to an Earth that was pure and cleansed, and where they would re-build a new and better world.
For several days, along with a dozen other young women, she had remained at the 'church'. They were well looked after and treated with great respect by Peter's disciples, who she had noted were all men. There did not appear to be any women in his close entourage, but at the time that had not worried her or rung any alarm bells. She had happily attended daily lectures and during a question and answer session was greatly struck by Peter's reply to two particular queries. Firstly he confirmed that he was indeed the Son of Aztor and had been sent down to Earth from the circling starships two thousand years earlier and that his age and appearance had not changed over all that time. Secondly and more pertinently as far as Olivia was concerned, he had agreed that yes, he was available for love sessions if so requested.
And unbelievable as it seemed to her now, she had made that very request. She had gone to his bed every night, and despite the winter climate they made love in the gardens and woods during the day. In fact the damp earth and sometimes freezing conditions had only added to the experience, awakening for the first time the dormant masochistic tendencies that until then she had not realised she possessed. Peter's lovemaking had been tender and gentle, and every time his penis had penetrated her sex or her anus she had welcomed it with an unbridled passion. He may have possessed the aura of an angel but he had the penis of a devil, long and fat it filled her to stretching point. Time and again, long after he had ejaculated, her vaginal muscles had clung to its de-tumescing girth, attempting to keep its still impressive presence deep inside her sex. And time and again she had felt it harden under her manipulations, until once more he had begun reaming her with unrestrained energy.
She had savoured the unexpectedly wonderful but salty taste of his sperm upon her tongue. She had thrilled to his soft open-mouthed kisses, to the way his lips worked on her breasts and nipples. And she had trembled at the feel of his tongue deep inside her vagina. His expert manipulations of her constantly erect and eager clitoris had resulted in spectacular body-numbing orgasms of a magnitude which she had never dreamed possible.
Several times she had thought that she could hear rustling among the bushes in the garden. But she had never seen anything and had dismissed the thought as guilty imaginings. She now knew better. Peter's disciples had been watching everything. Their antics in the garden, and their nights of passion. They had watched, and made video recordings that were destined for the hardcore pornography market. And that explained why Peter had sometimes stopped his love making and made her splay her legs wide, displaying her open vagina and the semen seeping from it. It had been for the benefit of the camera.
Back then however, she had suspected nothing. Her mind was a heady whirl of euphoria mixed with spiritual and sexual elation, and at that time she did indeed feel as if she were in Heaven. But it was a Heaven of her own making. She could not believe now that she had been so foolish. How had she come to accept his every word as gospel? Had it been some sort of hypnotism? Had she been drugged? She did not know. She only knew that in the space of a few days she had become totally immersed in the beliefs and activities of the Children of Aztor, and had willingly agreed to move on to their country retreat for a period of meditation and learning. But in the disgusting confines of the filthy hovel, the meditation she was at that moment engaged upon was not of the spiritual kind. It was a despairing appraisal of her desperate situation and the hideous future that now seemed to be awaiting her.
It had only been seconds after the heavy oak doors of the old country manor that served as their 'cathedral' clunked shut behind her, that she realised her mistake. Escorted through the portals by Peter, she had felt an evangelical upsurge sweep over her. A self-induced feeling of sweetness and light that was dispelled in an instant by the spectacle before her. She had stepped straight into a great hall, a horror of a room regurgitated from the middle ages. It was dark and dank. Disintegrating tapestries, heavy with the dust of time clung haphazardly to the walls, obscuring most of the grimy small-paned windows. Clusters of candles flickered dimly, casting frightening shadows and leaving nooks and crannies completely unlit. Instruments of torture filled every space, the heavier machines lining the walls, with whips, cat-o-nine-tails, and other unrecognisable instruments lying scattered around the stone-flagged floor.
But that was only a part of it. Bound and gagged girls, most of them totally naked and pitifully striped with the marks of flagellation hung from chains fixed into the ceiling high overhead. Others were strapped to the machines, with sweating monsters of men whipping their writhing carcasses or defiling them with penises bound with studded leather rings and monstrous steel extensions. The screams of terrified girls filled the air, which combined with the crack of the whips and the grunts of ejaculating men resulted in a bedlam worthy of Hades itself. But worst of all, in the midst of that uproar, at a barked command from Peter, the men threw down their implements of torture, ceased their abuse of the girls and moved to stand in a line directly in front of her. Totally shocked, she saw that they were the twelve 'Children', Peter's Disciples, with whom she had enjoyed her initial contact and instruction. Except that now they were different. Menacing instead of welcoming. Devilish instead of saintly. Silent and positively exuding depravity.
And every one stood with a fully erect penis clasped in his fist!
"Welcome to your new playmates."
That was Peter's only comment as he left her side and swiftly walked into a darkened alcove. The Disciples advanced on her as she desperately sought Peter, calling for him to no avail. He had gone. Disappeared. There must have been a door that she could not see in the darkness. He had abandoned her to a fate that she was unable to comprehend. Her mind whirled, her thoughts in turmoil and she descended into oblivion.
When she slowly returned to consciousness, she saw hot excited faces, eager with anticipation leering down at her. Rough hands were already pulling her knickers down her thighs, punishing her breasts and ripping the dress from her body. And so her ordeal had begun. And when it was over they had bundled her from the main house and thrown her into the dilapidated outhouse in which she had languished ever since. And there was nothing she could do but suffer the pain and woefully regret her infinite stupidity.


Three: December 23rd

IT WAS IN fact the following afternoon before Montague retraced his steps to the dungeon. His deliberations had taken far longer than he thought, and the whisky that had been a partner to his thoughts had made him drowsy. In any case it really was extremely late, so he had decided to turn in. It was only after a couple of hours lying awake, the problem of the cult still preying on his mind, that he gave any consideration to Melinda. It only lasted a moment. A night in the cage would do her no harm. Teach her a lesson. So, turning out the light, he had dismissed her from his thoughts and attempted to get some sleep.
Throughout the countless hours of her imprisonment in the cage, the cold, solid iron bars had pressed unrelentingly against her tender flesh and upon his return, Montague could see that she was obviously suffering greatly, the associated hunger and thirst being the least of her tribulations. He stood dispassionately watching Melinda's discomfort and contemplating just how much she had to thank him for. After being rescued from penury in Eastern Europe by John Carpenter and given the chance to join the elite pool of Housegirls, she had dismally failed her initiation test at the end of her training by Madame Stalevsky. It had been he who had redeemed her in a final test of her suitability to remain at The Lodge.
She had loved every moment of the time she had spent there and so for that one act alone she would be forever beholden to him. But not only that. She was enthralled by him, his every gesture, mannerism and especially his deeply cultured voice worked magic upon her soul. Submission to the man who truly held her heart was merely a dream for most of the Housegirls, but earlier that day upon her return to The Lodge, Melinda had confessed to Madame Stalevsky that although she had always been pleased to serve any of the masters, her own dream had been realised every time Montague used her. And even after some two years as his private property, she still felt exactly the same way, a fact Madame Stalevsky had promptly relayed to Montague. The feelings of the girl did not concern him too much, but he had felt a certain satisfaction on learning of Melinda's continued devotion.
So although she was taking great care not to betray her emotions, he was in no doubt that inwardly she was screaming for the exquisite punishment that he would surely administer as correction for her misdemeanour. Under his hands she had betrayed her feelings for him time and again. She loved the sight and touch of his wonderful penis, his great big beautiful, satisfying weapon. Those actual words had once slipped unguardedly from her tongue, an impudence for which she had been severely punished. But those same words were what allowed him to understand that at that very moment she would be aching for its attention, each and every orifice yearning to take it into custody, to imprison it and confine it until every last drop of gourmet sperm had been wrung from its possession.
Her mouth?
Her vagina?
Her anus?
Which one would be the first? He was not sure, and she wouldn't care. Just so long as he did it. And soon.
Unlocking the padlock and pulling the heavily barred door open, Montague ordered Melinda from the cage, ruffling her hair as she crawled painfully backwards on her hands and knees. Because of the torturously cramped conditions in which she had been imprisoned her limbs were numb and her muscles reluctant to obey her, but she still fought to lift her head and licked his hand, just like an affectionate dog.
"Good girl," he said, "come on now, beg."
And she did, squatting on her haunches as best she was able, her hands dangling limply from her wrists.
"You won't be satisfied with a chocolate drop, will you girl?"
That question needed no answer, and pushing her back on to all fours he ushered her back over to the whipping bench, the scene of her initial beating. During the time she had been imprisoned in the cage, the twelve stripes he had earlier laid on her rump and legs with the whip, together with the marks left by the cane and the paddle, had muted from purple to a darker hue that almost merged into the coffee colour of her skin. As she struggled over the flagstones, reducing the white stockings to a jumble of holes and rubbing the skin from her knees, Montague ran his hands appreciatively over her dimpled haunches and down her thighs, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath his palms. He cupped her buttocks, finding them firm but yielding to the pressure of his grip, and permitted himself a smile as his usually well-controlled manhood developed a mind of its own, giving him an impressive twitch. In truth, he did not regard Melinda simply as an appreciating asset, he was really quite fond of her, in fact he thought just about as much of her as he did of Alfred, his Great Dane. And as she was only a woman, that said a great deal.
Tracing his fingers lightly and slowly down her spine, Montague sent a regiment of shivers marching over her body, doing nothing to help her maintain the composure he expected her to show. He massaged her shoulders and ran his fingers through her long ebony hair, playing with it as he might when rewarding an animal for good behaviour. Dogs, horses and slaves, as he had instructed his son Duke, were equal and essential components in the life of a gentleman. And, if treated with the proper combination of firmness and appreciation, would all be equally obedient and faithful. He always ensured that good behaviour met with a reward, they understood that and it helped keep them in line. And although not strictly obedient to the last, this particular slave had now earned her treat, and he was going to see that she got it. A damn good thrashing. It was no more than she deserved.
"Stand up. Straight."
In front of the whipping bench, Melinda did as she was ordered.
"Arms outstretched and legs wide."
Once upright and in his favoured position she was a living masterpiece. Vibrant with sexuality. Skin the shade of a delicious light blend of coffee. Long black tresses. Jutting breasts, with pierced exultant nipples. A be-jewelled navel. Luxuriant pubes falling over labia pierced with ladders of golden rings. Montague ripped away the remnants of the stockings, revealing long smooth legs with downy thighs, at the same time he marvelled at the sight of her unbelievable rump. A rump of a shape and size to make even the most sexually jaded of men whimper in appreciation.
He slipped his hand beneath her thick bush to find her slit satisfactorily damp, the lips already slightly parted and eager for the fingers he thrust between them. Up and into her vagina they went without resistance. He explored her warm, moist interior before removing his fingers and running them under her nose, allowing her to savour the musky aroma of her sex before pushing them into her mouth so that she could likewise taste her arousal.
Eyes closing, she sucked, obviously enjoying the mixed taste of her own juices and the traces of expensive cigar clinging to his fingers, and most probably all the while wishing it was his penis that was laid upon her tongue.
"Arms up!"
In her abandonment she had allowed her arms to waver from their strictly horizontal position, and with a start, she quickly rectified her mistake.
"Careful girl, we don't want to have to punish you for any more transgressions, do we?"
But his instinct told him that she would not care if he did increase her punishment. In fact, she would probably welcome it. Silent, obedient and submissive, she awaited developments. Scanning the multitude of available devices, Montague searched for inspiration. He was not now in a mood for anything involving too much unnecessary complication, something simple but satisfying, that's what he needed at that moment.
"You like the cane, don't you girl?"
Her tongue flicking nervously over her lips, she replied that she did, following his gaze to a rack containing a host of prime examples of that instrument.
"It's settled then. The cane."
He selected several likely rattan switches from a rack, slashing them through the air, before bending each in turn to test its pliability. Finally satisfied with an instrument of medium weight and thickness, but exceptional springiness, he circled Melinda lightly dropping the knotted wood on to her shoulders, her breasts and her haunches, selecting suitable sites for his first sortie. Like a lightning strike, the first blow landed fully across both breasts, raising instant ridges on her flesh, and a squeal of agony from her vocal cords.
"Get a hold on yourself girl."
The admonishment was well taken, but Montague knew that he had hurt her. More than before. Much more than before. So much so that her eyes brimmed with tears as she grimaced with pain, although she did succeed in holding her stance. Her breast meat had responded spectacularly to the cane, however being dark skinned, the weals had flared up into a sombre purple as opposed to the crimson lines that the same treatment would have left on pale skin.
He continued circling, like a panther stalking its prey until again, out of the blue he landed a slash that burnt into her flesh with all the scorching fire of a branding iron. That time it was her rump. She'd never been beaten with such severity before, a fact to which her anguished wail bore testament. Whack! The next one fell flat across her stomach. And the next. A third scalding strike to the same location paralysed her senses and her arms came tumbling down to protect herself as she doubled over in agony. The pain was unbearable and absolute. And so was the joy! So much for her self-control.
Montague watched unmoved as she writhed in front of him. He said nothing. Tears poured down her cheeks as one hand frantically rubbed her abused flesh, while the other sought out the tinderbox of lust that was her vagina. He had been a little extreme he conceded to himself, and so, uncharacteristically, he allowed her a few moments to get her senses back into some semblance of normality. As the pain diminished, still sobbing, her hands dropped and she slowly straightened up, her sex crying out for her continued attention and her belly pulsing and throbbing.
"Is your disgraceful exhibition over?" he asked.
Shamefully, arms outstretched and legs wide, she resumed the stance. Montague could see that she was terrified. Not of any possible physical punishment, but of the extent of his displeasure. He did not show any anger, he did not need to, the cold steel in his voice being enough to turn the blood to ice in her veins. She shuddered involuntarily as she waited for a further verbal or physical admonishment. But it never came. He knew that would hurt her. More than the cane. She had failed him and he had not disciplined her immediately, feeling that words were not necessary to convey the depth of his condemnation. Her reaction told him that he was right.
With the very tip of the cane laid firstly on one throbbing nipple, and then on the other, Montague waited in silence, allowing the tension to mount. Circled by delicately rouged areolae, Melinda's solid nuggets stood out erect and proud. Suddenly, in a flurry of action, he whipped the cane back and forth between them, and knowing that the pain would be staggering he was not surprised at the agonised yelp that greeted his actions. It was truly gratifying that he could control and direct her actions and reactions in such a predictable way. Consciously or not, Melinda could always be relied upon to provide excellent sport and the sex that usually followed was never less than spectacular.
Of course, she could not be given any sign of his satisfaction with her performance.
"Young woman, you most certainly are not behaving with proper prudence today. Have you learnt nothing in the time since you were first brought here?"
There was no reply, one thing she had certainly learned was when to keep her mouth shut.
Montague studied her once more. She was actually coping very well and in reality he was quite pleased with her performance. She was fairly well beaten by then, a fact to which her suffering body clearly gave testament. But she was also a girl who thrived on such harsh treatment, as her engorged labia and lubricating vagina demonstrated most clearly. She was hot and horny, primed to perfection and without doubt silently screaming for the feel of his penis ramming into her lusting sex. So being a consummate sadist, for the time being Montague denied her that pleasure, instead ordering her to remain standing as she was with her arms fully outstretched.
In any case things were not yet quite as he wanted them. Before returning to the dungeon he had spoken to Madame Stalevsky, asking her opinion of a newly qualified Housegirl. The report had been very favourable and so Montague had instructed Madame Stalevsky to have the girl report to him in the dungeon as soon as she had been prepared to his desired specifications.
One of John Carpenter's 'specials', she was one of a contingent of sex-slaves who had been brought to his attention by one of his East European agents on his last business trip to the area. The girls were all victims of the terrorists running wild in Kosovo and had been kidnapped specifically with the intention of selling them into prostitution in the West. They were in the process of being smuggled out along the Balkans sex trail, where they would be sold off along the way in Italy, Greece or wherever their captors decided to hold an auction, with the cream of the crop being reserved for sale in London.
But she was the lucky one. After thoroughly investigating her capabilities, both sexual and intellectual and finding them highly satisfactory, paying a premium price he had purchased her there and then and brought her back to England and Madame Stalevsky. As he had discovered, she was not only extremely attractive but she was also highly educated; the perfect combination for a Housegirl at The Lodge.
So she had been installed in his exclusive establishment, where among a flock of likewise beautiful, sophisticated women she joined several other girls who had arrived there in exactly the same fashion. But there had been no coercion, she had been offered a choice: freedom or a position at The Lodge. She had chosen The Lodge rather than a return to a dangerous and unpredictable future in her homeland, which had made him, her and finally Madame Stalevsky very happy. And now Montague hoped, she would also make him happy too.
There was a rapping at the door of the dungeon. Loud and heavy. Too heavy for a girl. Montague knew who that would be - either Yuri or Ivan escorting the girl to his presence. Pulling the heavy studded door open, he found it was actually both of them. It had not required the pair of them of course, but as they handed the girl over, in their own wordless fashion they made it plain that they were pleased to see Montague at The Lodge once again. Montague valued strength and courage in a man, and they had utilised both those qualities on his behalf in the past. So although in reality they were his inferiors, he too was quite pleased to renew his acquaintance with them, even to the unheard of point of shaking both their hands as he sent them on their way.
The girl was long and lean, but firmly built and with a good padding of flesh where it was needed. She had fine features, a nose that was perhaps a little too pert and full sensuous lips. Her hair was long and dark and cut in an unusual shaggy style that might have looked strange on another girl. But it suited her perfectly and as Montague correctly surmised it could be traced directly to Madame Stalevsky's influence.
A studded leather collar was fastened around her neck, with a long plaited lead clipped into the large metal ring at the front. Leading her by the leash, he positioned her where the light was a little better. What he saw pleased him greatly, the girl was all that had been promised, and more. A half-corset encased her ribs, its cupless top pushing her breasts into firm mounds of delightful brown-tipped meat. Laced up tightly at the back, it could be unfastened with one tug on the bow into which the ends of the laces had been tied. It was white and virginal and appealed to Montague's penis immediately. Long, long suspenders by-passed her bejewelled navel and ran down over her flat belly, framing her neatly clipped pubic mound as they journeyed down her milky thighs to her stocking tops. White of course. The shimmering stockings themselves emphasised the shapeliness of her legs, and on her feet was a pair of delicious delicately embroidered satin shoes. Stiletto-heeled obviously, Montague would have allowed nothing less. As yet he could find no fault with her, except for one minor point. He would have to speak to Madame Stalevsky about it, he decided. He really did not like clipped and tidy pubes, he liked them wild and unmanageable, and most of all he loved to see his sperm dripping from their curly tips.
Still, that would not detract from his enjoyment of her body he thought as he tested the firmness of her flesh by prodding her breasts and buttocks with the end of a rigid cane. The flesh dented slightly and sprang immediately back into shape when the pressure from the cane was removed. Perfect.
He tipped the cane upwards, resting it under her chin.
"What's your name girl?"
It was Rebecca.
"Hmmph. I can't say that I'm keen on the fancy names some of you girls give yourselves when you arrive here. Especially when they have biblical connotations. However we'll let it stand... but I shall call you Becky."
Rebecca was her real name and he already knew it. It was just his opening move.
"From now on you will not speak unless directly ordered by me to do so. If I do so direct you will address me as Master. You will not scream and you will most definitely not orgasm unless it is by my express permission. Is that understood?"
"Yes."
In a flash, the cane whistled through the air, landing with a pronounced thwack on her right breast. It was immediately followed another strike to her left mound. A tortured scream erupted from her mouth, and two scarlet ridges did the same on her breast flesh.
"I see. I think what we have here is a case of deliberate disobedience. What did you do wrong?"
"I screamed."
The cane whistled once more. The twins of the first two weals flared up on her breasts. And she screamed again. Louder this time.
"Oh dear, you did it again. Only now you've committed three grave misdemeanours that will require punishment."
She was blubbering now and Montague gave her a minute to compose herself.
"Think very carefully exactly what instructions I gave you. Now. I ask you again, what did you do wrong?"
The girl remained silent.
"Good. You understand now - you answered my initial question although I had not given permission. And what was your second offence?"
Rebecca opened her mouth to reply, and then hurriedly shut it.
"Very good indeed. You're learning at last. All right, now you have my permission to answer."
"I screamed."
"And the third indiscretion?"
There was a pause. A tear trickled from the corner of Rebecca's eye. She obviously did not know what else she had done.
"Not so good. And you've just committed it once again. But this once and this once only, I will tell you, but you will still be punished. You failed to address me as Master."
As the final syllable died on his lips, the cane struck twice more. With expert aim and ferocious power it completed the first half of the striping of her breasts. Six ridges, two parallel sets of three tramlines on the upper slope of each mound now pulsed in unified pain. But at least she had not screamed this time. And he still had their weighty unmarked underbellies to work on.
Montague took his time, studying her minutely. There was good breeding in her, of that he was sure and he began to think that perhaps here was another possible addition to his own personal stable. He had several girls domiciled on his estate, both for his own use and for that of visiting friends and business associates, Melinda at that moment being his favourite. But his favourites had been displaced before by a more alluring piece of merchandise and so Melinda's ascendancy was not guaranteed. Perhaps there was a place there for Rebecca. He would have to find out.
The tip of the cane inched along the ridge where breast met rib cage, for a moment lifting the heavy orb before continuing over to do the same to its twin. Her tits really were superb. And seconds later they were also orbs of flame. A scorching strike flashed upwards, burning a fiery groove into the fullest under part of her breast, a tortured gasp rushing from her clenched jaws. A second cut into the middle and a third seared the pimpled outer ring of her areola. And that was only the beginning. The same treatment was repeated, this time targeting her other breast. Then, three more times the cane bit into the soft underflesh of her udders in a merciless assault, leaving her shrieking and begging for mercy.
Twelve cuts she had suffered to her tender mammaries. Twelve of the most searing, cruel strokes that Montague had ever delivered. He could not say that that she had come out of it with full honours, but at least she had endured a considerable amount of pain before she had finally capitulated. The outlook was good.
Throughout all of this, Melinda had been standing struggling to keep her arms stretched out horizontally. Montague cast a glance in her direction and noted the trembling in her muscles as she attempted unsuccessfully to raise her drooping wrists back to a level position. He walked over to her, swishing the cane to and fro. There were no preliminaries and no comment, he just whacked her six solid times across her hindquarters. Her feet left the ground under the impacts and she danced uncontrollably for several seconds until the initial flaming agony of the blows began to die a little.
"You know what you have done wrong. Do not let it happen again."
One after another, with the tip of the cane under her palms, he levelled her arms. He waited a moment to check that they did not drop, and then completely ignoring her, turned on his heel and returned his attention to Rebecca.
He circled her, prodding her a few more times with the end of the cane. Then he ran his hands over her shoulders, traced a line down the lacing at the back of the corset with his finger, before flattening his palms over her haunches and running them on down over the backs of her thighs and her calves. Everything was satisfactory. All over her body, the flesh was firm and springy. Just like her breasts it was ideal for the cane. He let his fingertips lightly trace the ridges of the weals he had raised on her mounds and although she pulled back with the pain of the first touch, she made no sound.
The cane went between her thighs, whipping slowly and deliberately from side to side as it travelled upwards towards her sex, widening her legs as it went. As her pubic hair had been clipped so short, her labia were clearly visible. Montague was extremely pleased that they were not the thick, puffy, tightly closed outer sex lips that he so disliked. Instead they were perfectly to his taste. She had a long vaginal slit, slightly open with fleshy but not thick labia, and inner lips that poked through a little, so that they would always be visible. He liked what he saw. Immensely. He was definitely going to enjoy himself with this girl.
Now she had to be positioned properly. He tugged her by the leash over to a crucifix-shaped wooden construction anchored into the floor. Circular leather restraints were attached to each end of the horizontal T bar, and her wrists were secured tightly by each of them. Her arms were stretched wide and the height of the bar was such that despite the height of her stiletto-heeled shoes, she was forced to stand on tiptoe in order to ease the strain on her shoulders. He pulled on the bow of ribbon that secured the corset and with a little help from him it fell from her body. He reached down and unclipped the suspenders that still attached it to her stocking tops and allowed it to drop to the floor before kicking it into a corner. Pushing her close to the upright post, he crushed her breasts up against it, leaving him with her back, rump and stockinged legs to play with.
Montague had done all he wanted with the cane, it was time for a change and so he decided on a thin plaited and waxed black leather whip. He valued precision and geometric patterns greatly and deciding on a simple dual ladder of stripes as apt decoration for such a jewel of a body he began to work on Rebecca. The whip sliced down twice, landing with an intensity that brought an agonised scream from her lips and cut diagonal lines across her upper back and shoulder, one on each side, with their apex between her shoulder blades. As there was not so much padding on that part of her body he did not lay on the strokes with full force, but they were still potent enough to raise vivid weals. Running his fingers lightly over her pulsing flesh, he still had her squirming under his touch as he scrutinised his handiwork.
Standing back, he raised his arm once more and then paused.
"You really must try to pull yourself together, your pathetic emotional displays are becoming extremely tedious."
His arm fell twice more, delivering two slashes equally as ferocious as the first. Two more diagonal stripes now lay a few inches below the initial weals, one on each side of her spine. Four strokes to her back so far and painful enough, but this time she had not cried out. That was much more satisfactory and he decided that perhaps she did have the capacity to take punishment well after all. The whip fell again marking her back with an additional pair of stripes, again several inches below the previous two. That time however he had struck so that the tip of the whip curled around her back to slash over the still throbbing tramlines the cane had earlier cut into her breasts. Squashed as they were up against the crucifix there was still enough exposed flesh for the whip to do its worst.
Her remarkably pliant mounds would still be full of pain, he knew that and so her resulting scream did not surprise him in the least. In fact he would have been disappointed if she had not cried out, he was working her well and she was reacting exactly as he anticipated. No rebuke was uttered, it was not required. Instead he walked around the crucifix and standing facing her he shook his head gravely. She opened her mouth, perhaps to grovel and tell him that she was sorry but before she could say anything he motioned her into silence.
"Say nothing, you'll only make your situation worse. You have one more chance to redeem yourself."
Calmly resuming his stance behind her the whip slashed down again and again until from her shoulders to the small of her back, Rebecca sported a ladder of inverted shallow V shaped stripes on either side of her spine. And there it was, a perfect but simple design, resembling more than anything else the flight feathers of an arrow. Not a single stripe overlapped or intruded on another's territory, Montague having demonstrated total mastery over the cutting power of the whip.
Rebecca's body had jerked continually under the impacts of the strokes, although she had uttered no more than a few stifled gasps but as Montague walked around the crucifix inspecting her, the tortured look on her face and the tears in her eyes told him all he wanted to know. She was suffering all right, but she was bearing it well; and that was just as it should be. But there was more to come.
Rebecca's fortitude was not all that it seemed however because as Montague ran the handle of the whip over the weals to check his handiwork, she let out an uncontrollable squeal.
"Quiet! You have not been given permission to speak, let alone scream. Control yourself young woman or I shall have no alternative other than to punish you really severely."
In truth she was being dealt with fairly ruthlessly as it was, but if she were not going to behave properly then he was not averse to subjecting her to even harsher treatment. It was the only way they learnt. And she was about to learn some more.
Her backside was his next target; firm, rounded and inviting, it was begging for his attention. He cupped her buttocks in his hands, and they were classics, prime material for a connoisseur such as he. He relinquished the whip and took up the cane once again, it would be a far better implement for use on such succulent steak. Passing it over to his left hand, with the open palm of his right hand he delivered a resounding smack to one of her buttocks. Her skin flared into a very satisfactory crimson flush that soon covered her entire bottom as the fierce smacking continued. She was ready.
The cane was returned to his favoured hand and he stood once more taking careful aim. A nicely cut design on each of her haunches matching the one on her back was what he planned and with eight more searing, perfectly placed strokes he achieved his intention. The strokes had been laid on with such ferocity that a double tramline had been raised as every one had landed, so although only four blows had seared each buttock, eight pulsing, throbbing stripes flared from both of them.
Rebecca was slumped against the crucifix, the wrist restraints bearing her weight, with tears streaming over her cheeks and little sobs and groans escaping from her lips. She was suffering immensely, Montague had made certain of that, but she was suffering well. He decided that she might well be capable of meeting his most exacting standards.
Slipping his hands around her waist, he slid them upwards between her body and the wooden post until he found her breasts. Pulling them away from the post, he squeezed hard and then pinched her nipples hard between his thumbs and forefingers. Piled on top of her existing agony the extra pain proved too much for her to bear, a howling wail of banshee like proportions echoing around the stone walls of the dungeon.
"Master, no more please. No more."
Montague's reaction was voiced in a glacial, severe tone.
"I told you quite clearly, no noise and you have disobeyed my order. For that there will be yet another punishment."
He advanced on her, the cane clasped tightly in his fist, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of some dreadful onslaught. But that did not happen. Instead he released her wrists and led her over from the crucifix to the whipping bench, where Melinda was still standing, her arms by her side, having hopelessly lost the battle to keep herself in Montague's prescribed position. He pushed Rebecca up against the bench and eyed Melinda coldly.
"Why are your arms not in the air?"
"Master, I'm sorry but I have no strength left. I could not keep them there any longer."
"No excuse. You will be punished along with Becky. Now, get out of my way while I finish dealing with her."
She did not move quickly enough and he helped her on her way with a couple of swift open-palmed smacks to her rump.
"Now, stand in the corner, face to the wall. And don't move."
While Melinda hurried to carry out his orders, Montague once again took hold of Rebecca, turned her around to face him and pushed her backwards over the whipping bench. The bench was about waist high and tipping her backwards right over it, he pulled her arms behind her back and linked them into chains set into the floor at the rear of the bench. Her savagely beaten bottom rested on the planed wooden top, her back sloped diagonally towards the floor, her head fell back and her long shaggy hair flowed darkly over the stone slabs. He planted her feet on the top, pushed her knees wide apart and pulled her buttocks forwards so that her sex was presented high and looking him straight in the eye. She may not have welcomed his uncompromisingly harsh thrashing but it had most certainly produced results; her labia were slick with her vaginal juices, seemingly pulsing in anticipation of what was to come.
The cane was thrown to one side and a quirt took its place. The quirt was the best, and probably the maximum instrument to use on a woman's most intimate parts. And he intended to use it on hers. She had been ordered not to orgasm, but he knew that would be extremely difficult for her, because his handling of this particular treatment almost invariably had just that result. Totally spontaneous and beyond the ability of any woman to fight.
With her legs well parted and aloft, he started down her thigh rods, laying stroke after meticulous stroke. He moved back upwards and approaching her visibly engorged labia, noted that they were now thick with blood and much enlarged from his first glimpse of them. Her clitoris had long since abandoned the protection of its hood, pushing out erect and rigid and it was to this that he now applied his efforts. It was over in seconds. The soft thongs fell no more than half a dozen times over her vulva before she juddered and shook in the throes of an overwhelming fulfilment.
The quirt dropped from Montague's fingers and he stood shaking his head.
"Abysmal."
No further comment was required. She had failed, and she knew it. But Montague was elated because although he did not need to, he had proved himself yet again. In fact like the best fine wine, he was just improving with age. She would have to be dealt with and punished. And so would Melinda. But he now felt that he had already spent a far too wearisome proportion of his day in the cellar and it was time to go back up into the main building in search of more gastronomic or cerebral delights. But not before he had sampled Rebecca's vagina.
Calling over to Melinda, he ordered her to turn around and watch. A perfectionist to the end, he would gain physical pleasure by fucking Rebecca, and mental satisfaction by knowing the suffering Melinda would undergo as she watched him shafting another girl.
Lowering his zip, he freed his impressively erect weapon. Standing between Rebecca's legs, he leant on her widespread knees with his hands, and aimed at her vagina. Her sex was ready. Open, lubricated and eager. Montague's bell-end only had to press against her orifice and it shuffled him straight in. It was tight, delightfully tight, but her vice-like muscles grabbed his shaft and propelled it right up to her cervix. He did not waste any time, he had other things he wanted to do now. So he reamed and plunged until upon reaching a shuddering climax the sperm imprisoned in his testicles raced up his urethra into her vagina. He bucked against her a few times, thoroughly emptying his reservoirs and pumping every last drop of his seed deep into her welcoming hole.
He could tell that she had become aroused once more, but her satisfaction was not his concern. He withdrew, wiping his penis on the insides of her thighs. He was not satisfied with the results, but he knew how to remedy that. The top of Rebecca's head hung close to the floor at the rear of the bench, and walking around the contraption, with his knees on either side of her cheeks, he knelt on the stone slabs and pushed his glistening shaft into her mouth.
"Clean it," he told her.
She got to work immediately. Sucking and licking as best she could in her upside down position, she soon had him clean and tidy. Laid in the palm of his hand, he inspected his penis. It was satisfactory. He put it back into its holster and began to unfasten her wrists.
"Further punishments for your misbehaviour are due. And to Melinda also. But I've had enough for today and so we'll postpone them to a later date."
Her wrists now free, she was tipped so far backwards over the bench that she could not pull herself upright, so with his hands under her shoulders Montague pushed her up until her feet fell to the floor and she was able to stand. There was a little sound from over in the corner. A snuffle. It was Melinda. Montague looked and saw the disappointment on her face and the tear in her eye. She had wanted to be fucked again too. A hopeful glint flickered into her watering eye as she caught his glance. Montague hesitated. He really could not be bothered with her now. But it did pay to show the odd spot of kindness every now and again. He thought it over, and against his better judgement decided that just that once he would give her what she so obviously wanted.
But there were two of them. No big deal for him, he would just shag them both as quickly as he could and get back to what he really wanted to be doing.
"Over here."
Melinda scampered across.
"Bend over, legs wide."
He positioned her exactly as he wanted, then addressed Rebecca.
"You, same position next to Melinda."
Now he had two of the sexiest rumps in creation pointing his way, accompanied by two equally fruity and lusting vaginas and seeing them presented in that way he found that he was not in such a hurry to leave. His penis sprang to attention once more, ready to deal with any prey that it might be offered. Once more he freed it from the confines of his trousers and approached the girls.
But they were not as yet in the exact positions that he required of them. Rebecca was somewhat taller than Melinda, with longer legs and so their backsides were not at the same height. And that had presented him with a very interesting possibility.
"Melinda, bend right over, let your forehead touch the floor and put your palms flat on the ground in front of you."
She did so.
"Stick your bottom higher into the air."
Again she complied, her rump and exposed sex jutting upwards at an increased angle.
"Becky, stride over her and do the same thing."
Rebecca obeyed, placing her own legs on either side of Melinda's and then bending forwards so that her abused, stinging breasts were crushed against Melinda's shoulder blades.
And that was it. Montague had it. Exactly as he had intended. Coffee and cream. Two rumps and two vaginas, one on top of the other, both juicing and ready for action. Once he started shagging, simply by withdrawing his penis and moving it up or down a few inches he could now plunge into either of their holes with the minimum of effort and in the space of a split second.
So, deciding to make use of them in order of alignment, he slid his shaft firstly into Rebecca's eager tunnel and after thrusting experimentally a few times, withdrew and plugged Melinda. It was a good feeling and he repeated it again and again, first one grasping vagina and then the other. And it was quite amazing how different they were. Both tight and with active, strong internal muscles that gripped and wrestled with his penis, they produced two very pleasurable but contrasting sensations.
Montague began to really enjoy himself and concentrating on Rebecca, increased the speed of his stroke, battering himself up against her buttocks. Lying on top of Melinda, she squirmed uncomfortably and the harder he pushed, the more her wriggling increased, almost overbalancing both girls. Grabbing both her wrists, he held her arms aloft in front of him as he pumped into her with ever-increasing vigour. His strokes were long and forceful, reaming the full length of her vagina until sensing the onset of her orgasm, in a lightning move he denied her that gratification and pulling out completely, sank his whole length straight into Melinda's excited, juiced up cunt. It was just what she had been lusting for, her master's cock. Montague could actually feel the ripples of her arousal as her internal muscles clamped onto the girth of his weapon. She was wet. More than that she was literally dripping with vaginal juices and that made for a very slippery ride. He pumped in and out, his belly audibly slapping up against both hers and Rebecca's buttocks.
But he could not believe what happened next. Had the entire female sex turned into disobedient trollops? Despite all her training and experience, Melinda came. Spectacularly, and without his say-so. Trembling, jerking and moaning, she shook beneath him in an obviously staggering orgasm. An orgasm that seemed as if it would never end. Again and again he felt the jolts hit her as seething with cold outrage at her insolence he withdrew the instrument of her fulfilment.
Slowly and calmly, outwardly at least, he selected another cane from the rack. He whipped several through the air before settling on his choice. Nothing was said. No comment was required, all three of them knew the extent of Melinda's crime and that harsh punishment was in order. And he would not just punish her. Both their backsides were presented in an ideal position for a caning and Rebecca had plenty coming herself.
But Melinda received the first stroke. Delivered with superhuman strength and volcanic intensity, it exploded across her haunches, biting deep and overlaying the already existing tramlines with livid double stripes. This time her dark skin actually did flash crimson momentarily before deepening back to the purple hue that usually resulted from a brutal strike.
Montague struck again. And again. Up over Melinda's rump and onto Rebecca's backside. He did not spare her one little bit either, dealing out a succession of lightning strikes that landed with thrilling thuds on her already dreadfully abused flesh. Up and down he went, alternating between them. Firstly Melinda, then Rebecca. And then back again. Vicious, loudly impacting thwacks fell onto their tortured bodies, because by then Montague was not restricting the beating to their rumps. Walking around them, the cane fell on their shoulders, slashed upwards to bite into their breasts, whacked onto their thighs and then proceeded to rain down on every accessible area of vulnerable flesh.
They had both been disobedient in the extreme and he had no doubt that his response to that disobedience would remain in their memories for a very long time. And yet when he finally stopped and their involuntary ear splitting screams and wails had subsided into choked blubbering, there was still a glimmer of something in both their eyes. Something that Montague recognised. It was lust. And excitement. And a plea for more. That was what made the Housegirls of the Lodge so special and placed them far apart from almost any other women. Their lives were totally dedicated to the service and pleasure of their masters. Pain, punishment and subservience were their bywords. And Montague was the ultimate Master.
There was no question now of either of them being rewarded with any further sexual pleasure. But even after his exertions in disciplining them both, Montague still had a rock solid erection. The two girls were still exactly as he had placed them, one positioned on top of the other. He stood in front of them, his erection clasped in his fist.
"Watch," he said, "and cry."
And the tears did indeed form in Rebecca's eyes as she craned her head up and Montague began to slowly stroke his fist up and down the length of his wonderful penis. With that action he had confirmed that she was not to be gifted with the pleasure of his weapon again. She would not feel it once more reaming and stoking her vagina. He would not fuck her into oblivion. He would gain his own fulfilment and she would gain nothing. And Montague knew that Rebecca would feel even more aggrieved because even though it had not been intended, Melinda had orgasmed and she had not. In fact he would not have been at all surprised if that did not spark a little antagonism between them.
Drawing closer to them, his strokes increased and his climax neared. Feeling the sperm starting to race up his urethra he barked an order:
"Mouths closed. Tight."
Streams of hot, delicious spunk sprayed all over them. He showered their hair, their faces and their bodies, but with their jaws firmly clamped together neither girl was able to enjoy even the slightest taste of that magical ambrosia. He even denied them the usual perquisite of allowing them to lick his penis clean, simply wiping it with a tissue before returning it to the captivity of his trousers.
The girls had been punished to a certain extent, he had to admit that. But more could be done. Except not by him. He really was tired, hungry and ready for some refreshment and perhaps a little light entertainment. And his wickedly inventive mind had come up with the perfect plan to allow himself that indulgence.
"Right girls. I'm going to leave you now. There's a little errand I have to perform. Do not move. Do not even flinch. No matter how long I am gone, make no attempt to stand up. If you do I shall know."
And of course he would, because he had arranged for the day's activities to be filmed by the cameras carefully concealed around the room. Cameras that none of the Housegirls knew were there. Leaving the girls with stinging slaps to their bottoms, he headed for the door, in a very good humour and whistling nonchalantly. There were two other persons he knew who deserved a treat. And he set off to find them. On his behalf they could settle his unfinished business with Melinda and Rebecca very satisfactorily.
Yes, Yuri and Ivan would be perfect!

Four: December 24th

OLIVIA had been held captive in squalid surroundings for almost six weeks, although she herself had no idea of the exact amount of time that had passed. One pain-filled day of misery had merged into another until she lost count of them as David had carried out his instruction and training of her, abusing and debasing her in the most despicable of ways. And this day was destined to be no different.
Shivering with cold, she drifted from an exhausted sleep into a drowsy half awareness that something untoward was happening to her. And that something had roused her from the depths of a sweet dream, a dream in which her circumstances were anything but what she was really experiencing. Held in the comforting arms of Morpheus, she had been making warm, satisfying love to a former lover, a considerate caring young man who at one time she had seriously thought was destined to be her soul-mate. She had felt the weight of his body pressing down on her and the powerful strokes of his hot shaft filling and reaming her vagina. Now as she slowly awoke it carried on plunging into her and still in a half stupor a murmur of pleasure slipped from her lips.
"Michael. Oh Michael, you're so wonderful."
A burst of mocking laughter greeted her words, hot fetid breath flowing into her nostrils from the mouth that hovered close above hers.
"Michael is it? All right, if that's who you want me to be I don't mind in the least."
Bursting into total awareness, Olivia let out a horrified scream. The man pumping away between her thighs and lying with his full bodyweight on her breasts was not her dreamlover but an awful beast of a man. A despicable monster who was now rasping her delicate tunnel with massive thrusts, his pubic bone crashing onto hers with every plunge. Desperately she tried to push him away but he was far too heavy and rising up from her slightly, her pinioned her arms to the ground as he continued to grind into her.

Suddenly she caught sight of David standing watching the scene and her horrified, tear-filled eyes questioned his.
"You remember Ryan, I'm sure you do. I seem to remember that he gave you an extra special welcome on the night I brought you here."
Olivia remembered him only too well. Apart perhaps from Louis, he had been the most bestial and depraved of The Disciples who had so wickedly abused her on her arrival at the manor. And now he was doing it again, pushing his monstrous weapon into her while she had still been asleep. Sickened and afraid, her heart and mind fought an heroic battle in a continuing effort to throw him from her, but her physical strength was not equal to the challenge. The more she struggled, the more he seemed to enjoy it, an evil, lascivious smile crossing his face as he rammed into her with renewed vigour.
"Ryan was feeling like he needed a change this morning, a little extra something to get him in the mood before he starts work on his own slave, so I offered him the use of your body. It seemed only fair considering how much you enjoyed it the first time."

She should consider it an honour David said, that he now thought her training was almost completed. Her suitability had to be assessed and her performance checked and there was no one more qualified than Ryan to do just that.
"He's a pig. Get him off me."
"Oh dear, and I was so sure that you were ready."
In truth she was ready, it was just the rude circumstances of the attack that had thrown her. It would not do to upset David and so as Ryan continued to build his thrusts into a frenzy she relaxed her body and began to meet his plunges into her vagina with upward thrusts of her own. Letting her mind flow back into her dream, she began to imagine that it was not this insensitive brute who was ravishing her, but that it was Michael. With those thoughts in her mind, as he reamed and savaged her, drawing inexorably towards his climax, she felt herself becoming increasingly aroused. Thrusting upwards with added vigour, she felt tingles of fire start to spread from her sex and radiate over her body, low moans and grunts accompanying her own rapidly approaching moment of release. Ramming into her with the ferocity of a rampant bull, Ryan let out a bellowing roar as his orgasm hit, to be greeted by an equally loud scream of fulfilment from Olivia. Spurting, hot sperm mixed with musky vaginal juices as every drop of his seed was pumped into her until, finally fully sated, he rolled from her body.
David stood in seeming satisfaction as she lay there twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm, her eyes still closed and, unknown to him, a picture of Michael still in her mind. She had performed well after all, although if he had known that it had taken the image of a former boyfriend to enable her to react so spectacularly, his fury would have known no bounds.
Rising to his feet, Ryan stood over her and vigorously shaking his slackening penis, showered her with the last drops of semen that oozed from his meatus.
"You're a pretty good fuck for a rich bitch. Maybe I can do a deal with David, I wouldn't mind you for myself."
That was the very last thing that she wanted and for a few moments she was wild with fright until David put and end to her fears.
"I don't think so. She's mine and she's staying that way."
"Only until the auction my friend. Only until the auction."
And with those words ringing in her ears, Olivia opened the eyes that she had so closely shut to avoid Ryan's sperm falling into them and watched him push past David and disappear out into the crisp morning air.

***

The Lodge was never particularly crowded over the Christmas period but for those who did wish to be in residence a whole host of intriguing opportunities was on offer. Many of the Housegirls were of foreign origin and had no families of their own in England, in fact to some of them The Lodge was the only family they had ever known. So they were quite content to remain there to service the members who had chosen to stay, and of course there was the lure of the extra-huge bonuses and tips that came their way for doing so. And with nothing pressing that demanded his attention, Montague had decided to place Melinda into the pool of available girls and have himself a very merry, pampered few days, being certain beyond doubt that on Christmas Day some extremely delectable delights would slip themselves into the Dior stockings that he had brought with him.
But even the best laid plans falter. And Montague's faltered dramatically, an urgent call arrived for him from New York from a man known only by the codename of Mr. Luther and in unusual haste he hurried to the IT suite to take it on the video link. As an Elder of The Brotherhood, a call from Mr. Luther usually boded trouble and Montague was in no doubt that this one would be no exception. Along with Mr. Luther and all their associated Brethren, he could trace his ancestry back to the creation of Man himself, and ever since The Serpent had tempted Eve and caused the expulsion of herself and Adam from the Garden of Eden, his ancestors and their kin had been battling the forces of evil.
And now it seemed that they would have to join in battle once more. The American National Security Agency had discovered what was virtually a heavily defended fortress way out in the backwoods, where they thought some great atrocity was being planned. Together with openly hostile anti-Western elements, disaffected American nationals were being trained in ways to cause mayhem and terror in their own country. In a confrontation that closely mirrored earlier events at Waco, the combined forces of the CIA, the FBI and the state militia, reinforced by regular army troops had confronted the dissidents and blasted them into surrender and their leader had been captured and incarcerated in the Pennsylvania State Penitentiary.
At first they had thought that he was either insane or at least trying to appear so, when under interrogation he declared that he had built up his arsenal of armaments because he was the Spacegod Aztor and that he had come down from a starship circling the world to save mankind from disaster and the weapons were needed for that purpose. Their thoughts had to be revised pretty quickly when after running checks on him, they realised that they had got their hands on someone who was far more dangerous than even the events so far had indicated. The armed confrontation with its resultant deaths of both Army personnel and terrorists had been calamitous enough but the affair had now assumed even greater proportions.
With only the barest facts being released to the general public, as the most important man in the United States, Mr Luther had been apprised in full detail. The security services were not to know that he was one of The Sons of Adam, in fact as far as they were concerned the vague stories that arose from time to time concerning The Brotherhood were pure myth. So, already having a deep interest in the activities of Aztor and his Disciples he considered that it would be extremely wise to have someone sit in on the interrogation of the prisoner.
As a person of such high office it would have seemed odd if he were to do that himself but he could instruct the CIA to allow his personal representative to do so. He considered that Montague was the man most qualified to carry out that assignment; they had to find out exactly who this person claiming to be Aztor really was. With Mr. Luther's discourse at an end, without a moment's hesitation Montague summoned his private helicopter and after making a few last minute arrangements, raced off to answer the call to arms.
Although he owed her no explanation, as a matter of decency, before he left, Montague summoned Melinda and told her of his change of plans. She had seen very little of England outside of The Lodge and Montague's estate, and for a long time had been yearning to be allowed to visit London. Summoning up all her courage she asked him if she could be excused from remaining at The Lodge, and instead spend the duration of his absence in the capital. It was true that she was his slave, but she most certainly was not his prisoner.
Apart from that, it was Christmas, the season of goodwill, so he decided to be benevolent and grant her wish. He was far too concerned with his own problem to bother himself with her little whims however and in a quick call to one of his aides, much to her delight he arranged for her to stay in a luxurious five star hotel in Kensington. Then without so much as a farewell fuck, he dismissed her from his presence.

***

As Melinda travelled to London in the luxury of Montague's Bentley, in far less salubrious surroundings Olivia was undertaking a journey of her own. A journey into pain, terror and humiliation. Ryan had decided that he wanted to sample more of her delights and in truth David, knowing full well the depth of her hatred for his fellow Disciple, was anxious to discover exactly how successful his training of her had been. Her reaction would be vital he told her, if she accepted without protest anything and everything that Ryan intended to put her through, then she would gain his good opinion. If she did not, if she failed him, then the consequences did not bear thinking about. And with that warning David left her to await her fate.
After David had given him the key to the padlock securing Olivia's chains, Ryan returned to the outhouse and freed her despoiled form from its captivity. Then in a totally incongruous action he produced an unopened packet of black hold-up fishnet stockings and a pair of high-heeled stiletto ankle boots. Sniggering with unconcealed evil intent, he ordered her to put them on, watching with hooded, lustful eyes as she rolled the stockings up her sperm stained legs and wriggled her feet into the shoes. Then using a broad stiff leather paddle he smacked and beat her near enough naked form along the frost-covered path and into the manor. Again and again he struck her full bottom and the backs of her thighs with the rigid instrument, urging her across the great hall and down the forbidding steps that led to the torture chamber. Girls were strung up or suspended in chains all over that awful pit of pain, their screams rending the air as The Disciples disciplined or fucked them, the acrid smell of coke-burning braziers and the red hot irons thrust into their incandescent hearts filling the air with nostril-stripping fumes.
Poor, abused and striped girls wailed and moaned as their tormentors laid into them with studied abandon. All the girls were by now fully trained and ready for sale, these final punishments and abasements being almost entirely for The Disciples' own enjoyment and pleasure. But they also served as a sharp reminder of what would happen to any girl who gave cause for complaint once she had been delivered to a new owner. The girls were sold on a 'satisfaction guaranteed' policy and if their performance did not live up to the expectations of their buyer, they could be returned. It was business, no different to selling any other commodity, but they were told that the fate awaiting any girl who was so returned would be unspeakably appalling, and this was their way of searing that warning into their memories.
Ordering Olivia down onto her elbows and knees, with repeated slaps of the paddle to her already patchily bruised bottom Ryan drove her across the rough, cracked floor, each dull thwack as the paddle hit home flashing a fresh deep red welt onto the pale fleshy meat of her backside. Her magnificent breasts jutted beneath her, the tips of her nipples dragged painfully over the coarse stone and despite the searing heat from the braziers, at ground level the stone flags were icy cold, biting numbingly into her limbs.
When he finally ordered her to stand up, her knees were scraped raw and the stockings were in tatters. His lip curling into an evil sneer, Ryan surveyed the pitiful figure cowering before him.
"Because you were such a good, co-operative girl this morning, I thought that you deserved a reward, so I gave you a present; a pair of exclusive designer stockings. Black stockings, because I like the way they contrast with pale flesh; stockings that cost a lot of money and that any truly grateful slave would treat with great care. But how do you treat them? You shred them."
Olivia bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing out loud, it was all so unfair. Ryan had done it deliberately knowing exactly what would happen and she stood sniffling and trembling with terror in front of him as he carried on berating her. He told her that she was a spoilt, ungrateful bitch; a daddy's girl who had so much money that she did not care about ruining his gift. But she would care, and soon, because unlike her he had not had a privileged upbringing and the price of the stockings was a great expense to a man of his limited means. And because she thought so little of his act of charity, he was not going to be kind and considerate any more, in fact he was going to give her a different kind of Christmas present. He was going to shred her.
But firstly she would have to be prepared, positioned exactly as he wanted her. With her legs spread wide, he snapped steel handcuffs around both her ankles, clamping them to iron hoops set into the floor. Two more iron hoops hung from the ceiling, attached to separate ropes that ran over pulleys and after attaching further pairs of handcuffs to both her wrists, he in turn snapped them over those hoops. Then hauling on each rope in turn, he pulled her arms upwards until they were stretched to their limit at which point he tied them off to anchor points, thereby tensioning her frame tautly and rendering her completely immobile.
Now he was ready to begin, he told her that her earlier bad behaviour would have to be reported to David and he was in no doubt that she would be severely punished by him for failing to live up to his expectations. But he did not find it necessary to have to do that because unseen by him, David had quietly followed them into the chamber and had seen most of what had taken place.
After looking over the apparatus that Ryan had prepared in readiness; steel breast clamps, jagged-jawed crocodile clips for use on her nipples, labial clamps with heavy weights on chains attached to them and wickedly long skewers being only a part of it, David was in no doubt as to Ryan's further intentions and after what he had seen it was not something that he was prepared to allow.
"No! You're not going there. I'm not letting you sail that close to the wind. I know you, you're far too dangerous to be let loose on a valuable slave with that lot, one little slip and you could seriously damage the goods."
Vehemently protesting, Ryan claimed that nothing he had in mind was any worse than David himself had inflicted on slaves in the past. And of course that was undeniable, but David had a vested interest in Olivia's continued well-being. Not only was he seriously trying to devise a way of keeping her for himself but she also had a particular task to perform within the next few days that required her to be reasonably unblemished.
"That may be true, but I'm not letting you do anything more than fuck her. And while you do I'm going to watch, so don't let any of your wild ideas carry you away."
The sight of David and his rebuke to Ryan had lightened Olivia's spirits considerably, so much so that her tears stopped flowing and she even managed a thankful nod in his direction.
"And don't you get any ideas, I'll be dealing with you later myself."
David's cold response pierced her to the core, instantly deflating her growing confidence. Once more the look of frightened apprehension returned to her eyes, eyes that widened in shock as Ryan threw off his cassock and stalked towards her, pulling at the thongs that held his genital pouch in place. He was proud of his penis and as it fell free she understood why. From the way in which it had stuffed her so fully when he had assaulted her earlier, she knew that it must have been of very creditable proportions but this was the first time that she had managed a clear and unobstructed view of it. Despite herself, her tongue slipped from between her lips and ran over their unpainted surfaces in genuine unabashed anticipation, only to be rapidly withdrawn as a red flush washed over her features at the sudden realisation that David was watching everything.
But there was no reason for her to dread David's reaction, if his preparation of her had been successful then he would expect her to behave in exactly that way.
After pausing to retrieve something from his discarded cassock Ryan moved right up to her, his nose pressing on hers and began to wipe his still fairly slack weapon backwards and forwards along the full length of her vaginal slit. Olivia could feel it getting harder and harder until fully erect, his glans began to dig between her labia and push up into her vaginal entrance.
As beastly as she thought he was, she began to welcome Ryan's attentions, she wanted his cock inside her; and quickly. Lubricating juices began to flow, her labia widening to permit more of his girth to slide into her slit and so it was with great disappointment that she felt him suddenly pull it from between her legs. He was not finished with her however, far from it. Moving back far enough so that she could see what he was doing, he produced the items that he had taken from his cassock.
The first was a broad rubber-lined steel ring that he slipped over his cock and pushed right down to its base. It was a tight enough fit that if he had needed it, it would no doubt have assisted him in maintaining a solid erection, but as he did not require assistance of that nature, it served another more diabolical purpose. It was a variation on a stickleback clitoral stimulator but instead of the usual fairly small rubber projections, sticking out from the ring, pointing upwards along his shaft were closely packed much harder tines about a quarter of an inch long.
Making a great show of it he ran his forefinger over the tips of the tines. Olivia got the message loud and clear, they would rasp her own tender meat as he penetrated her and slammed up against her vulva. But that was not all, because back and forth in front of her eyes he waved a thick golden barbell about three inches in length and a quarter of an inch in diameter. It was an ampallang, and although she had never actually seen one before she recognised it because her boyfriend Michael had once toyed with the idea of having one himself and before finding himself too squeamish to actually undergo the process of its insertion, had described it to her in great detail.
So, Ryan had a pierced bell-end, something that she had not realised before, and with a great flourish he pushed the bar right through his tough purple helmet, leaving a projection on each side. Of course it had to be held in place and so he slowly and deliberately screwed gold capture balls the size of small marbles onto each end, so that his glans resembled a fish's head with great bulbous eyes and turned his shaft into an ingenious instrument of sex torture.
"What do you think now, you pampered bitch? How do you fancy this rasping your posh, privileged twat?"
She did not fancy it at all, in fact it filled her with dread but David was watching and she could not let herself down in front of his eyes so she remained mute.
"Cat got your tongue has it? No matter, I'll have you squawling before you know it."
And squawl she did. Loud and long as he ravaged her mercilessly. Firstly, ignoring her already stimulated vagina, he stood behind her with knees bent in order to present his shaft at the correct height and angle and pulling her buttocks wide apart he lodged the tip of his helmet into her anal pucker. It slipped into her passage without too much effort until the capture balls encountered her sphincters. There it stopped dead, they were not about to admit its knobbly bulk without a struggle, but a battle was something that he was always prepared for, whether it be an all out no-holds-barred fight with another man or merely a tussle with a recalcitrant rectum.
Gripping her hipbones with both hands he tried to pull her backwards onto him but she was held so tightly by the taut rope that her bottom hardly moved so much as an inch. That was all to the good as it happened, because if she could not be moved backwards then neither could she be pushed forwards. So now hanging onto to her hips merely to steady himself, he drove into her with all his might, the barbell ripping past her tight anal muscles and his penis cleaving into her in its wake. Half of it shot in with the first giant thrust, the rest disappearing into her rectum with each successive ramming plunge until it was stuck into her as far as it could possibly go.
Transferring his grip to her breasts, Ryan hung on to each one with a grip of iron as he battered into her, transforming the pleasure that she now usually felt at anal penetration into unbearable agony as the two huge capture balls raked her tender passage. Totally merciless, he ravaged her with unconcealed gratification at the pain he was causing, her screams echoing endlessly around the stone walls of the chamber. Faster and faster he drove into her until jerking and shuddering he shot his load of hot sticky sperm into the upper recesses of her rectum. Leaving his penis where it was, he closed his eyes for a moment, revelling in both his monster of an orgasm and her still ear-shattering screams.
Suddenly the caterwauling stopped and in surprise Ryan opened his eyes to see David standing in front of Olivia, a reel of broad gaffa tape in his hand. He had sealed her mouth with the silver industrial tape, gagged her to stop her insufferable wailing. Without a word he went back to the spot where he had stood observing the proceedings but it was obvious that he was greatly displeased. Ryan was exultant, that was one up to him, and Olivia was absolutely devastated, she had failed her Master and some awful punishment would await her when her session with Ryan was over.
But it was far from over yet, her vagina was still waiting for its own share of abuse. Very slowly Ryan withdrew his armoured shaft from her behind, causing her to wince silently in pain as it encountered the same resistance from her sphincters as it had when attempting entry.
Strutting around her strung up, pain-racked body, his penis still solidly erect and swaying from side to side as he moved, he stood to face her. Making no further move on her for the moment, he just stood there running his lightly clenched palm up and down the length of his shaft from the wickedly tined cock ring at its base to the knobbled barbell piercing his glans. A film of sperm still covered the tip of his bell-end as it continued to ooze from his meatus and squeezing his glans to open up the hole he laid a thick line of his sticky emission along the length of his first finger. Apart from teaching her the joys of anal sex, David had also heightened her appreciation of the taste of sperm and although she still desperately tried to conceal the fact, she loved it, something that Ryan had not failed to notice. Lifting his arm and keeping his finger horizontal he pushed it slowly towards her face.
"You'd like this on your tongue, wouldn't you? But you can't have it, can you? Because your loud mouth had to be taped up. This is what happens to bad girls, they don't get their goodies."
Olivia's eyes said what her sealed mouth could not: she did want to taste it. She wanted to feel it sliding over her taste buds and down her throat. But that was impossible and the expression in her eyes turned from one of longing to one of dejection as he lowered his finger and wiping it over her pubic mound, deposited his sperm in a place where she could feel its sticky wetness but not taste it.
Slipping both hands beneath her wide-open thighs, he gripped her labia between each thumb and forefinger and brutally pulled them apart until her vaginal entrance was stretched into a sizeably visible hole. He did not want to encounter the same problems with her vagina that he had with her anus, he wanted to be able to push his shaft, capture balls and all, straight in without any protest from her introitus. Still holding her sex lips apart, he thrust his hips forwards and without touching it, sank his rock-solid penis into her, the capture balls scraping through her hole without any trouble. With another couple of huge thrusts he buried almost all of his length deep within her, then released his grip on her labia, obviously savouring the feeling as the walls of her vagina clamped down onto his rampaging weapon.
With his hands grasping each of her buttocks, he steadied himself for one final upward drive into her, a huge beam of satisfaction spreading over his face when Olivia snorted in sudden terror as the tines on his cock ring bit into her womanhood. Leaving his shaft stuck where it was, he let go of her buttocks and laid his oiled body against hers. Her breasts were pressed tightly against him and moving up and down and from side to side he rubbed her bullet nipples against his heavily muscled chest. She responded immediately as she always did, it made no difference if her nuggets were stroked sensuously or sadistically pinched and squeezed, any touch to them inflamed her passions in a flash and a tingling stream of arousal began to flow from them straight to her sex.
Her vaginal muscles rippled under the stimulation, a sensation that transmitted itself to his cock as almost of its own volition it started to slowly sink in and out of her tunnel. Leaning back, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting while his strong fingers teased, nipped and twisted the other. At the same time he increased the stroke and depth of his vaginal plunges, stoking up her lust as her inflamed passion spurted lubricating love juices into her tunnel and soaked his cock. The gold balls raked the length of her vagina and the cock ring battered against her pudenda, but instead of causing her distress the pain added to the sensations. Pain and pleasure, agony and joy, she felt them all, doing everything that she could within her severely limited movement to make it as good for him as it was for her.
Suddenly David's voice cut through the heavily sexually charged atmosphere.
"Have you forgotten all that I've taught you?"
Her increasingly abandoned arousal had not gone unnoticed by him.
"You are a slave. You're nothing, you've got no rights and no feelings unless I say you have, especially the right to come yourself. When you're being fucked you don't enjoy it yourself, you make sure that whoever is fucking you gets all the enjoyment that you're capable of giving him. You only climax if I allow it... And I most definitely do not! So you'd better pull yourself together or you'll be far more than sorry when this is over."
The colour drained from her face, a haunted look replacing the one of euphoria that had adorned it until David's intervention.
"And you!"
This time his words were addressed to Ryan.
"Get on with it. Fuck her and then fuck off. I've got things to sort out with this filthy whore."
Ryan was not about to argue; as far as he was concerned he had achieved his objective. Olivia had been intimidated, scared half to death and then had welcomed his penis, the king of all penises. Once again he had proved to himself and hopefully to David, that he was supreme in matters of discipline and for that matter, fucking. When he was finally finished, David would definitely have something to think about.
So without a word he followed David's instructions, he got on with it. And with a vengeance. He pinched, scratched and bit her breasts, reaming her vagina with powerful thrusts that smacked the tines of the cock ring right inside her labia, rasping her hard, erect and unhooded clitoris. And she loved every second of it, his frenetic plunging driving her into a crazed delirium of lust, until completely unable to help herself she exploded in a violent, jerky orgasm that had her squealing behind the tape.
Ryan's own orgasm followed swiftly and pulling his penis from her depths he sprayed her labia and her pubes with spurt after spurt of his hot seed; and because there was great power behind the erupting sperm he even shot dripping puddles of it right up onto her breasts.
Only able to breathe through her nostrils, Olivia fought for air as she willed her still shuddering body into quiescence, frightened to look at David for fear of what she would see. And she had good cause.
"Right, you. Fuck off. Now!"
Ryan did not exactly jump to it but he was gone in no time at all, leaving her alone with her Master.
"We're going to do everything all over again. Everything that I've taught you and when we're finished you'd better be able to prove to me that you can be trusted to carry out my orders to the letter. Otherwise..."
There was no need for him to spell out the consequences and so the sentence was left hanging, as indeed was she as he disappeared into a gloomy recess. A moment later he emerged from the shadows and strode back towards her, swishing a wicked rattan cane back and forth, until ceasing his thrashing of the air, he stood in front of her and lifted his arm high.

Five: December 25th

CHRISTMAS DAY. And what a miserable day it was, especially for Melinda. Much to her great disappointment, she found herself wandering the streets of a deserted city. The West End was empty, Eros having been handed over to a handful of Japanese tourists and a host of pigeons. After despondently making her way back along Piccadilly, she passed the hotel and headed for the King's Road. She had heard a great deal about that famous thoroughfare but Chelsea proved to be as dead as everywhere else, not a single bar or shop was open. Eventually, through lack of purpose and with no real destination in mind, her feet led her past the fire station and down towards Battersea.
The day had dawned drab and dreary and remained that way throughout the hours that Melinda had trekked through what she had falsely imagined would be streets thronged with festive merrymakers. Overcast and dull, the pale midday sun now and then broke through the low ceiling of cloud to glint momentarily on the dark, rippling waters of the Thames. With her hands under her chin and her elbows resting on the white-painted cast iron balustrades of the Albert Bridge, Melinda disconsolately followed the manoeuvres of a battalion of starlings as they continually whirled up from beneath the bridge, wheeling in precise formation before swooping back down low over the surface of the river below. There was not a soul in sight, only the occasional passing vehicle giving any indication that she was not totally alone in what was normally a bustling, thronged city. She had not realised that on that particular day, the streets of London would be as deserted as those of every other town in England.
As she contemplated the fact that she had been foolish not to remain at The Lodge, the scene before her eyes faded away to be replaced in her mind by images of the joyful celebrations that would be taking place there at that very moment. She emerged from her reverie, surprised and a little frightened to find that seemingly from nowhere, she had acquired a companion. A few words from him however and she was completely at ease. His voice was a gentle American drawl and his manner was comforting. Tall and lean with shoulder length fair hair and a light beard there was an aura about him, something that she was unable to define, but something that made her feel that here was a very special man.
His name was Peter he told her, and feeling no need for caution she soon found herself by his side strolling through the gates of Battersea Park. He talked and she listened as they wandered along the embankment, and by the time they reached the Peace Pagoda she was totally intrigued. Intrigued and still happy to be in his presence, but not convinced by his words. Unbeknownst to her, it was the same story that he had told to Olivia, but Melinda was not about to be a convert to his so-called church. Hearing his story, she was not at all surprised that he was American because from what she read in the newspapers the USA had more than its share of lunatic cults and weird fantasists. But he was harmless enough she thought, and he was wonderfully warm and caring, but she did not believe in starships and the end of the world. She could not deny however that he possessed a powerful, charismatic personality and so it was with tact that she declined his invitation to meet others of his faith, although she was still quite happy to listen to his continuing efforts at persuasion as they re-traced their steps to the park entrance.
With its engine idling, a limousine with blacked out windows was stopped just inside the main gates, seemingly waiting for the exit traffic lights to change in its favour. Melinda was taking her leave of Peter as they neared the car, when suddenly the front doors flew open and two men came rushing towards them. Before she knew what was happening, strong arms swept her from her feet, Peter tore open the rear door of the car and she was bustled inside. Leaping in beside her, Peter pinned her struggling form to the seat as the door slammed shut. The other two men jumped into the front seats and wheels spinning, the car raced off in a cloud of smoke as its tyres laid a track of burnt rubber on the surface of the road.
Once he had her in the car all of Peter's earlier charm and gentleness vanished. He became a beast and her skirt was up over her hips and her knickers pulled down around her ankles within seconds of her being thrown onto the back seat. And it was done with a brutal, unnecessary roughness, catapulting screams of protest from Melinda's lips. Screams that were greeted with stinging slaps, firstly to her face and then to her jutting breasts.
Grasping both her wrists in one long-fingered hand, he tugged her arms upwards over her head and flattened her full length on the cold leather of the seat. With the full weight of his body pressing down on her, he ripped his penis from his trousers and forcing her legs wide apart with his knees, aimed it straight at her unwelcoming vagina. With no ceremony, no finesse or thought for her at all he rammed himself into her dry tunnel. It was brutal. And it hurt. And apart from that, his weight on her chest was making it difficult for her to breathe.
Peter was completely unmoved. Grunting with effort, he pistoned into her, slapping her face hard every time she screamed, until scared for her looks she controlled her yelps and concentrated on trying to throw him off. It was impossible. He was stuck up her hole as far as it was possible to go and he continued his frenzied pumping until she felt his weapon swell to an even greater girth as his testicles unleashed their sperm. He came with a shuddering orgasm, filling her to overflowing with his hot seed. Seed that for once in her life she had no desire to taste.
But he had other ideas. Pulling his slackening cock from her hole, he changed his position, shuffling up her body until both his knees were planted in her armpits. Leaning forwards he planted his sticky weapon onto her lips. Luscious red lips, but lips that were not about to admit his despised member.
"Open bitch! Wide."
Melinda shook her head in refusal. But he was not about to be deterred and his response was to grip her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeeze viciously. Her mouth opened then, in a tortured scream, giving his vile penis the opportunity to slip straight between her previously tightly clenched jaws. It proved to be a weighty weapon, filling her mouth and pressing on her tongue.
"Come on you dirty whore, lick. Lick and suck, and do it as though you're enjoying it."
Melinda was powerless to do anything other than obey his command. She knew an animal when she met one, and this one was as wild as they came. Despite her desperate situation her mind cleared and she realised that her most prudent course of action was to do exactly as he said. She would keep him happy for the time being and search for a means of escape later.
Her cheeks hollowed and her tongue snaked into action as she got to work on his cock. It hardened back into a solid rigid rod in an instant, pushing against her tonsils. She knew what he wanted and opened her throat to allow it to slip deep down. He pumped up and down for several seconds, but in her cramped position, with her head crushed up against her chest it was impossible. He was choking her. He obviously thought better of his actions because he pulled back and out of her throat allowing her to get her breath back.
But he was not finished with her. As soon as she was once again breathing regularly, he pushed his monstrous instrument back into her mouth. This time he did not attempt to attack her throat, simply ordering her to suck him off. The difference in his attitude and language from the mild mannered, gentle person she had met on the bridge was startling, but as its weight pressed down against her tongue she suddenly realised that she was actually enjoying the taste of his cock. Despite already having been violently ravished by this demon and now squirming under his weight, with his iron penis filling her mouth she was beginning to like it. She was incapable of denying her submissive nature, she was what she was and there was nothing she could do to alter that fact.

Her tongue began to flick and tease. Her lips travelled up and down the length of his shaft, and she sucked. Sucked with a vengeance. She didn't have to pretend now, she wanted more of his delicious sperm flooding her mouth. She wanted to taste its savoury saltiness and to swallow it all down. She was wanton, and her efforts spurred him on.
"Oh God, now I know why these girls are so unique."
She heard his exclamation but the words did not sink in. Not until later. At that moment she wanted only one thing. The same thing that he did. She wanted to rush him into ejaculation. And she did. Shuddering and jerking he erupted into a giant orgasm, pouring the remaining contents of his testicles onto her lusting tongue. Sucking, swallowing and gulping, she drained every last drop, only coming to her senses as he pulled out from her still eager mouth.

What had she done? How could she have allowed her feelings to run out of control in such a manner? And what would Montague's reaction be when she told him? Montague! Suddenly he was in her thoughts again and the true danger of her situation struck her like a thunderbolt. More questions assailed her mind. Who were this beast and his comrades? What did they want with her? She did not know, but she was certain that she had not been abducted just to be ravished. Although she was about to be. Again.
The car screeched to a halt and the driver and his front seat companion both leapt out. The rear doors were flung open and as Peter rose from her body, freeing her, fresh hands grabbed her arms. She was pulled unceremoniously from the car, her stiletto heels sinking into soft earth as she tried to stand. The men were both well built and tall, with steely strength. Held in their iron grip, she struggled hopelessly, prompting a flurry of stinging slaps from one of them. From inside the car she heard Peter's voice.
"Melinda, accept your situation. Be a good girl and you will come to no harm. Continue being rebellious and your future will be very bleak indeed."
Melinda? How did he know her name? During their conversations on the bridge and in the park, she had not revealed her true name. She was not so incautious as that, even though she had thought him to be a genuine person.
"And you two, treat her gently. Fuck her if you want. Do anything, but don't mark her. She's worth a fortune."
She had gathered during the journey that Peter's cohorts were named James and David, and now, even in the midst of her panic, she noted that James possessed a huge, bushy beard and although it was winter and very cold, David's feet were bare and he was wearing open sandals. But it was Peter's final comment that rang in her mind: 'She's worth a fortune'. So that was it. She'd been kidnapped and they were going to hold her for ransom. Her heart sank because she knew full well that it was not in her Master's nature to just pay up and take her back. He was a man of action, he would either rescue her himself or abandon her to her fate.
Such thoughts faded from her mind as she was tugged away from the car. For the first time she took proper note of her surroundings. That they were very far from the beaten track was immediately obvious. The car was parked on a dirt path barely wide enough to accommodate its width, with banks of earth on either side rising as high as its roof. She was thrown face down onto one of the steep banks, her legs landing in the midst of a patch of stinging nettles. The two men laughed evilly at her distress as nasty blisters bubbled up on her smooth skin and she squirmed under the pain.
"No dramatics please," James said sarcastically.
"Well, not yet anyway," David chuckled.
And it was David's hand that reached down and ripped the dress from her back.
"What did the chief say? Don't mark her? Just take a look at that."
The dark purple stripes and bruises left by Montague were still plainly visible on her body. A hand squeezed her naked rump, making her flinch.
"Still hurt, do they?"
James said it in a tone that left no doubt that even if they did not now, then they soon would.
There was silence for a moment and then she heard the car boot being opened. A few seconds later a bundle hit the earth close to her face. She twisted her head to see what it was, blanching as she realised what was contained within it. For Montague to beat her with those instruments was one thing, but if these brutes intended using them on her, then that was an entirely different matter.
Another bundle flew through the air, landing close to the first. The car boot slammed shut and once more both men stood towering over her. James stooped to pick up the second bundle, which consisted of four stakes and a mallet, wound round with rope. He shook the rope free and selected a stake and the mallet. Meanwhile David roughly pulled Melinda's legs wide apart before stretching her arms above her head. A stake was hammered deep into the earth a foot or so above one of her wrists, a second following in the same position above her other wrist. The remaining two stakes were then positioned in the earth below her ankles. Working together both men looped ropes around her wrists and ankles and pulling them tight, secured them to the stakes, stringing her out tautly in the shape of a letter X.
After selecting their instruments of torture, James and David stood on either side of her swishing them through the air. A whip cracked, its leather tip biting into the earth close by her head. The distinctive swoosh of a supple cane heralded an impact near to her squashed left breast. They were playing with her. For several minutes the strikes fell closer and closer to her body, never actually touching her, giving her a false sense of security. She was now certain that following Peter's instruction not to mark her they would not actually thrash her.
How wrong she was. Suddenly the searing lash of the whip exploded across her rump, to be followed immediately by the crippling bite of the cane. Her backside was still incredibly sore and tender from Montague's treatment of it, so the pain was of startling intensity. Her screams were loud and long as a barrage of blows began to rain down on her. The two men were really enjoying themselves, egging each other on and pointing out fresh sites where a numbing blow could be landed.
"Cease!"
Peter's command rang out. "I gave you permission to fuck her, not to thrash her senseless. Remember she is valuable merchandise."
Melinda could almost feel their reluctance to obey, and sighed with relief as the pair finally allowed their weapons of torment to fall to the ground.
But that did not mean that her own torment was over. Far from it. It seemed that if they were not to be allowed to beat her then they had decided to fuck her into the next century. Further along the path a tree had been cut down and the trunk sawn into logs about three feet long. Collecting one of the logs they lifted her and pushed it under her belly, thus raising her rump to an easily accessible angle.
At first they took it in turns. James plugged her vagina with a tunnel stretching erection, ravaging her with unconcerned brutality and finally pumping endless spurts of semen into her womb. David used her anus, James doing the same immediately after David had shot his load deep inside her. Her vagina was then David's next target, and so it went on. They had the stamina of stallions. Time and again they fucked her from behind until seemingly sated they freed her limbs from their bonds, but not for long. Turning her over, the rough bark of the log scraping her tender belly raw as they did so, they retied her to the stakes. Now of course not only her projecting sex, but also her breasts and her mouth were available for use, whichever they chose.
And they chose both. They smacked the firm meat of her breasts, bit and suckled her bullet nipples and plunged their cocks repeatedly into her sex and her mouth, letting her taste both their semen and her own juices. And it was the taste of semen that once again led her to disgrace herself. She couldn't help it. The whip and the cane had aroused her enough and it had only been with great difficulty that she had been able to suppress the carnal desires prompted by their attention. But she had managed to do so. Now she could not. David's shaft squirted spurts of his diminishing supply of sperm onto her taste buds and she was lost. Gobbling, sucking and swallowing she tried to keep his detumescing weapon in the captivity of her mouth, almost sobbing as it slipped from her lips. But her next feast was not long in coming, James treating her to gushers of his own seed as his orgasm erupted down her throat. Although it was probably the most rewarding blow job that he had ever received, he told her cruelly that Afro-Caribbean girls were his particular favourites and dark skinned as she was, she could not compare with them.
Finally at an order from Peter it was all over. And Melinda was almost sorry. Unbelievably, she craved more. More cock in her mouth, and it was with a certain feeling of disappointment that she felt her bonds being released for good and she was pushed, stumbling back to the car.
It was several hours later and pitch dark before the car stopped once more. During the journey Peter had subjected Melinda to several further sexual attacks, filling her vagina, her anus and her mouth with his salty sperm. His penis was insatiable, never slackening for more than a few minutes before being up and ready to go again. Melinda had never been subjected to such a constant barrage of sexual abuse before and despite her best efforts had found herself becoming aroused again and again. She had managed to fight off orgasm initially but had eventually succumbed, writhing under him in shameful but abandoned ecstasy. At one stage she had actually clung tightly to him, her arms and legs thrown around his back as she urged him to thrust deeper and more strongly inside her grasping vagina.
And that he had done, driving his great length fully into her lusting juicy tunnel until it bumped up against her cervix with every thrust. She had met every one of those plunging thrusts with one of her own, whimpering and moaning as exquisite ripples of delight surged through her body. His endless reaming of her sex and the constant stimulation of her clitoris drove her wild with the need for fulfilment, until unbelievably she found herself screaming out loud, urging him on.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Harder. Shag me harder."
The crude words raced from her mouth, inspiring him to even greater and more frenzied pistoning in and out of her insanely voracious vagina, until with a howl of ecstasy she came. And she came with a vengeance. A noisy, body-racking orgasm of unparalleled intensity that saw her scraping his back with her long fingernails and biting his shoulders in a frenzy. Her incredible performance spurred Peter into a final burst of manic humping, until letting out a mighty roar he jerked and thrashed as his own orgasm hit, spurt after spurt of fresh sperm jetting into her. Too much sperm for her to accommodate and despite the tightness with which his penis plugged her hole it immediately began to leak out, running over his stomach, down her legs and onto the car's upholstery.
Pulling out of her Peter cast Melinda aside like a rag doll, leaving her crumpled on the floor of the car, leaking sperm from every hole. As he aimed his barely slackening shaft at her lips she did not require any confirmation of what he wished from her. Her wanted her mouth over his cock; sucking, licking and cleaning and Melinda fell to it immediately. It was only a matter a moments however before she lost control once more and her enthusiasm for the taste of his seed led her to apply all her considerable expertise to the task. Before she knew it she had embarked on performing an uninhibited and unrestrained act of fellatio on him.
Grasping the base of his penis with one hand, she slid her mouth up and down its entire length so that without him having to move at all she treated him to a spectacular mouth fuck. Up and down she went, backwards and forwards, all the time with her mouth clamped firmly onto his solid shaft and her tongue working miracles on the sensitive underside of his glans. Incredibly the stiffness of his member increased and grasping a handful of her dark hair in both hands he held her head immobile as his orgasm struck. A river of his thick nectar flowed over her waiting tongue as she slurped in appreciation of its wonderful taste, swallowing every last drop with fervour.
Finally Peter pushed her away and began tidying himself up. During the short time that took, sanity returned and waves of remorse washed over Melinda. The realisation of her complete betrayal of the ethic instilled into her by Montague struck home. His own code of morality was what she had learned to live by, and she had broken it. She had given herself willingly to a brutal stranger, completely forgetting Montague in the process. Her heart wilted, tears rolled from her eyes and she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Stop that caterwauling bitch. You enjoyed it. I know you did."
Peter had totally misunderstood. Her tears were for Montague and the fear of his reaction when she told him what had happened, as she would have to once they were reunited. If he were to reject her then her life would be over, without him as her master her existence would be pointless. But all thoughts of Montague were once again banished from her mind as the car door was pulled open from the outside. Naked apart from tattered hold up stockings and the high stiletto-heeled shoes that had remarkably remained both intact and on her feet, Melinda was pushed out into the freezing night air. A light powdery snow was falling and the cold chilled her to the bone. Urging her forwards, James and David led her towards the eerie, forbidding building that was their 'cathedral'.
Inside the building a blazing fire roared in the giant open fireplace of the refectory, showers of sparks being sucked up into the chimney as the logs crackled and flamed. The twelve disciples were sat six on either side of a long heavy legged oak table, the remains of what must have been a truly sumptuous feast scattered before them. Empty bottles of wine and spirits lay discarded all over both the table and the floor, bearing testament to the indulgences that the favoured Children of Aztor had allowed themselves in celebration of Christmas.
It was a special day for them. Not a Christian celebration, for their High Priest, The Sacred Nazarene Peter had taught them not to believe in false prophets. From his instruction they knew that it was no deity who had trodden the Earth two thousand years earlier, but he himself, The Son of Aztor. He had descended from his father's starship to purify the world, to bring sanity back to a wayward mankind. And in all the time since, he had not succeeded. That was why Aztor, his patience finally exhausted, had finally decided to cleanse the Earth with a fiery holocaust, saving only those men who had dedicated themselves to his cause.
And when the time for the ascension did arrive there would be no women involved. Women were riddled with sin and their only purpose was to serve men. In themselves they were worthless. Abominations, fit only for sex and menial work. They were commodities, to be lifted from the streets, cleansed with punishment and then sold to the highest bidder. The proceeds from the sales were converted by Peter into gold blocks and stored ready for the day the starships revealed themselves. Gold was the precious fuel that powered the ships, and it was The Children's bounden duty to assist Peter in amassing sufficient quantities of the metal to replace that which had been used up during the two thousand years the ships had been waiting in space.
The door of the refectory swung creakily open and Melinda stumbled into the room, followed by James and David. Allowing them to fully enter the room Peter followed in their wake and upon sight of him the disciples arose from the table as one. They stood with heads bowed awaiting his command. And grabbing Melinda's wrist and tugging her to the table, his command was that they should once more be seated while they listened to his words.
"This is she. The first of the three temptresses that Aztor has demanded as a sacrifice to honour his greatness and to signify the baseness of womankind. She is his alone. She belongs to him and must remain undefiled until he claims her."
If only the disciples had known of Peter's and his lieutenants' carnal experiences with Melinda, perhaps they would not have so obediently heeded his warning. But they did not. And so she was safe from their attention, a fact that lightened her spirits, but only by the tiniest fraction. If Peter entertained any further sexual fantasies towards her, she vowed to herself that there was no way that she was going to submit of her own free will.
Pushing Melinda into the clutches of James and David, Peter continued addressing his apostles. He told them that with their hunger and thirst sated, even though it was a special day, it was their duty to undertake the daily ritual of humiliation and cleansing of their female captives. So after leading the utterance of thanks for their meal Peter guided them from the table and headed for the iron-studded door that led down into the cellars. Beneath an arch over which in years gone by, an inscription in French had been chiselled, steep and worn stone steps disappeared into the gloom, and igniting rag-tipped torches into smoky luminescence the disciples used them to light their way into the same horrific chamber in which Ryan had assaulted Olivia.
Melinda was an educated girl, and wished that she were not, as although the inscription was ancient and worn, part of it was still decipherable. Her knowledge allowed her to translate this fragment: Peine Forte et Dure it read, Severe and Harsh Punishment. She could guess the rest, it would be some sort of twisted welcome to a pit of pain, because she knew that that phrase referred to torture, racking and all the other unspeakable practises carried out by the dungeon masters of old.
Even with that knowledge, after being propelled down the steps by James and David, Melinda gasped at the grotesque scene that opened up before her, the horrors of the foul dungeon exceeding anything that she could have imagined for herself. Dropping their torches into iron holders fixed to the bare crumbling walls, the disciples revealed a dimly lit scene that rivalled the terrors of the inquisition. The vast shadowy chamber was filled with instruments of torture of every conceivable kind and Peter's two lieutenants pointed them out to her.  And before Peter was finished, she would have tasted them all, they told her.
The sight of the instruments alone filled Melinda with dread. Despite her nakedness and the biting cold, perspiration filmed over her skin. Striped and beaten girls, their piteous wails rending the air, were confined in cages made of wooden beams plated with iron. Another poor girl was laid on her back, her arms and legs drawn apart by ropes fastened to hooks in the walls, and a pile of heavy rocks by her side. Melinda was hardly able to believe her eyes, it looked as if they were preparing to press the girl.
Melinda couldn't decide whether they were really going to do it or were simply putting the girl through a mental torment almost as terrible as the physical one might be.
And this chamber also had a rack. It was awful; about six feet long and three feet above the floor, with a girl shackled to it, not stretched over the top but suspended beneath it in the early medieval fashion. Her limbs were attached to each end of the device and two of the disciples placed themselves by the windlasses at each end, ready to wind them tight and so stretch her. Added to that the whipped figure of a girl with long blonde tresses was held in mid-air, her body tautly stretched by rope. Olivia Carlisle had enjoyed much more than sexual assault at David's hands after he had taken her back from Ryan, she had been flogged and left strung up and ignored throughout the entire time that he had been away with Peter and James.
Branding irons and long iron pincers, their tips glowing red-hot were thrust deeply into fiery braziers. Iron helmets, thumb screws, cat-o-nine-tails, and other fiendish implements lined the walls. And over in the corner, just visible through the thick smoky gloom stood the ultimate of horrors: An Iron Maiden, its lid open to reveal the vicious metal spikes that would pierce the flesh of anyone consigned to its interior. Peter waited, watching as the full horror of her surroundings sank into Melinda's brain. Then lifting her chin he looked straight into her frightened eyes.
"For sinful women such as you, this is the only way to cleanse you. Human flesh is weak. I can burn it, pierce it and stretch it. I can whip it, brand it and cut it. And here in this chamber I have everything thing that I need to make you suffer the tortures of Hell."
The twelve girls suffering all around her had been just as she was when they were first brought to the Cathedral, he told her, sluts of less worth than the lowest animal. But during the previous few months, together with his Disciples he had trained them and taught them better ways; now they were obedient and willing slaves who knew that submission to their masters was their only true path through life. But she was worse than they had been because she was already trained and submissive - to the wrong person. A person whose beliefs and lineage stood at complete odds with those of Aztor, a person who belonged to a Brotherhood of men who had been their enemies throughout long aeons of time. And for that she would suffer more than any of the others.
Melinda knew that he must have been referring to Montague but his words were lost on her, as although she was his favourite slave she knew nothing of The Brotherhood and as a pure and simple possession of his, she never would. So, not really understanding the full meaning of his words she stood aghast, trembling with fear as he went on to describe in detail exactly what he had in mind for her. He was going to utilise every single method of torture in the dungeon, the twelve-inch skewers in the cellar would pierce her flesh and the branding iron would sear her buttocks.
And after he had abused her poor body in every way possible he was going to fuck her. Fuck her until she couldn't stand. Fuck her until her cunt and her arse were on fire, in fact fuck her so that she'd probably never be able to close her legs again. Melinda was terrified. It was if he had some personal score to settle with her, and if as he said, he was doing it in the name of Aztor, then what in God's name had she ever done to him?
But that was not all he told her. Two more of her gutter-moraled sisters in shame would soon be joining her and they would receive the same treatment. In fact they would endure it together, they would watch as each of them was tortured, beaten and ravaged. Melinda shuddered as his words buried themselves into her fright-filled mind until with a wave of the hand she was dismissed from the dungeon and his presence. Weak kneed, trembling and in a daze she was virtually carried up the steps and back into the refectory by James and David.
"You're going to get everything you deserve, you filthy slut. Peter will cleanse your soul and..."
David had only just got started when James butted in.
"But he's not keeping all the action for himself. I'm gonna see to it that you get everything that's coming to you. Peter's not around all the time, so you and me are gonna have some fun while he's away."
Erupting in anger, David pulled her from James' grasp and threw her to one side, hurling her up against the wall. She hit it with an impact that caused her to cry out in pain as David rounded on James.
"You're doing nothing, you American bastard. We do as Peter ordered. No one touches her now except him. She has to be properly prepared for Aztor and you're not fucking it up."
A wild look in his eyes, James squared up to David until suddenly he relaxed.
"Take it easy brother, it's cool. I was only turning the screw, just trying to scare her, that's all."
The tension eased as David turned to take hold of Melinda once more, and she saw what he did not; James' hate-filled eyes burning into his back.

Six: December 26th

CHRISTMAS DAY was the slackest day of the year at The Lodge and as usual had been celebrated in a fairly quiet, intimate manner by the few members in residence. The major celebrations began on Boxing Day and the establishment was thronged as Marmaduke DuPont together with Lolli, the beautiful ex-Housegirl who was now his wife arrived to join his father for the forthcoming festivities. He was most surprised and not a little concerned to find that Montague had left hurriedly and was not there awaiting him. Madame Stalevsky, the formidable Russian Madame who ruled The Lodge and The Housegirls with an iron hand, rushed to meet him as soon as she was informed that he was on the premises. She was one of only a handful of people who knew of the connection between The Brotherhood and The Lodge and had been entrusted by Montague to explain to his son the reason for his unexpected departure, his relayed words filling Marmaduke, or Duke as he was known to his friends, with black concern.
Hurrying to The Lodge's state of the art communications centre he put through a video link to Mr. Luther in Washington, only to be advised that he, together with Montague had left for his ranch in Maryland. His call was re-directed and he was connected to his father with the minimum of delay, to find him both angry and frustrated. Because it was Christmas everything was held up. Even Mr. Luther's influence could not speed things along. The Penn State Pen was not now considered a secure enough facility in which to hold the prisoner and arrangements were being made to transfer him into the custody of a Special Forces unit. But that was going to take several days and due to the extraordinary security precautions under which he was being held they could not see him in the meantime. Duke wanted to join his father immediately but was instructed to remain where he was as it seemed that there was definitely an English connection that could well soon prove to be just as troublesome as its American counterpart.
"Stay where you are, keep your eyes and ears open and I'll contact you as soon as something breaks. In the meantime say hello to Lolli. And give her a great big fuck for me."
With that Montague disappeared from the screen.
Duke smiled at his father's final comment. Who could ever imagine father and son fucking the same woman? Never mind an intellectual, multi-talented, ball-breaking goddess like Lolli? And his father had fucked her first. So had The Headmaster, the head of the public school that both Duke and Lolli had attended. But his father and The Headmaster were elder statesmen of The Brotherhood, and they had chosen her to be Duke's bride and the mother of his child. And for that, both Duke and Lolli would be forever thankful.
It had been Duke's intention to follow his father's example with Melinda and place Lolli into the pool of available Housegirls during his stay. Even though Melinda was not now stabled at The Lodge, if he were to follow Montague's instructions and remain there himself, he decided that he might as well carry on with his original intention. And so he did. Into the pool she went, and a few hours later he was extremely pleased to find her, along with a new girl by the name of Rebecca, listed on the menu placed on the tables in the common room as 'The Dish of the Day'. Dandy McIntyre, a flamboyant but old and treasured friend approached him and asked him if he had any objections to the girls being split up. He had been lusting over Lolli for several years but her popularity being so great, he had always been beaten in the race to claim her, and then Duke had married her and she had not returned to The Lodge since. Until now. A window of opportunity had opened up and this was his chance, at last.
Duke was more than agreeable. He liked Dandy and as he was a well-respected Member of Parliament, Duke hoped that Dandy's dream of becoming Prime Minister would one day become a reality. He would then not only be a good friend but a formidable ally. Of course the decision was not up to him. Once a girl was placed in Madame Stalevsky's custody she had complete control over her. However, placated by Duke's confirmation that he would take Rebecca for the night, with a little reluctance she agreed. Duke was not too unhappy with the situation because upon investigating the leather bound comments book placed on the reservations counter, he had found a very complimentary entry regarding Rebecca left by his father. And Duke knew that Montague was not an easy man to impress.
It being Christmas, traditional Red and White were the colours of the day. The drapes, table settings, wall decorations, in fact everything in the dining room had been re-themed to blend in with the time of the season. The Gothic nature of The Lodge allowed for very high ceilings and the dining room was no exception. Over in one corner a giant Christmas tree, topped by an extremely enticing fairy, complete with sparkling wand dominated the scene. Only this fairy was real and not only that, not counting the diamond tiara encircling her head she was naked. The tree itself was as alive as she was, being constructed from a pyramid of red velvet trimmed, open-fronted timber boxes. From a broad base, the large mahogany squares stood on top of each other and standing inside each one, with legs spread wide and arms outstretched, was a Housegirl festooned with tinsel and greenery. Each tier consisted of fewer boxes than the one on which it stood and following the classic triangular Christmas tree contours, the fairy was framed in the final box, the pinnacle that touched the ceiling.
With the stalks inserted into their vaginas, bunches of Mistletoe hung from some of the girl's labia, inviting a kiss and a mouthful of tasty sex lips. Presents from Madame Stalevsky and John Carpenter to the guests were tied to the girl's limbs or inserted into their private parts. Each present was personalised, and wandering over Duke was delighted to find a long handled quirt bearing his initials buried in the vagina of a particularly savoury piece of livestock that he could not remember seeing before. He pulled it from her grasping tunnel, sniffed the handle appreciatively, waved it in her face and gave her a look that said he'd be back to use it on her as soon as he had an unclaimed moment.
Settling himself back at his table, he and Dandy enjoyed a lively badinage with the Housegirls on serving duty, entirely centred on their outfits. Gone were their usual clinging dresses, replaced by revealing, short skirted mock Father Christmas outfits of red velvet trimmed with ermine. Outfits that showed off their bare bottoms to great effect, riding well up over their buttocks at even the slightest stoop to place an item onto the table.
There was much dropping of cutlery onto the floor, followed by a great deal of fondling and slapping of haunches by the members as the girls bent down to pick up the silver. Peals of laughter rang around the room at the girls' discomfort, everyone seemingly deriving great amusement from each new spanking. And several of the members had commented on Madame Stalevsky's unusual lightheartedness in sanctioning such a mode of dress. Christmas must be softening her they had decided, as in normal circumstances the Housegirls' appearance was one of strict formal sensuality.
The Lodge's Master Chefs had prepared an inventively different festive feast with countless tasty and uncommon accompaniments, but Duke and Dandy were particularly attracted to the traditional roast turkey, not the least because of the highly unusual way in which the stuffing was delivered. A space was cleared in the centre of their table and a Housegirl, naked except for suspenders, stockings and high stiletto-heeled shoes was laid over it. After their turkey had been carved and served, they helped themselves to the stuffing. Taking up large spoons they scooped the pork and chestnut mixture from its container: the girl's vagina. Instead of the turkey, the Chefs had stuffed her.
The dinner was magnificent and eaten at an enjoyably leisurely pace but once they had satisfied their taste buds and their stomachs, Duke and Dandy did not linger too long, although they enjoyed a Havana and glass of champagne. Dandy was almost squirming in his eagerness to get to work on Lolli, and recognising this Duke eventually took pity on him.
"All right Dandy, you'd better get going before your blood pressure goes through the roof. And don't forget, Lolli likes it long and hard. Very hard. She'll take it all, anything you can dish out. And she loves the taste of sperm. If you want to impress her, make sure that's what she gets. And plenty of it."
There was no reason for Duke to concern himself on that point, Dandy told him, he had worked out ages ago exactly what he would do to Lolli if he ever got his hands on her. Once Duke had agreed to his taking her for the night he had discussed with Madame Stalevsky what he had in mind for Lolli and she had been very understanding. Although she had said that it was acceptable, it was also a little extreme and Lolli could be out of circulation and unavailable for service for much longer than usual, including New Year's Eve. If she were going to miss the most important night of the year that meant that the usual fine, astronomical as it was, would be increased dramatically. But he did not care how much it cost him, he was prepared to settle any amount that she thought appropriate. Rising from his seat Dandy took a credit card from his wallet and waved it in front of Duke.
"So I'm off now to pay the fine in advance, fourteen days just to be on the safe side. I just hope that you've got a filly laid on for the next couple of weeks."
And with that he raced off to take care of Duke's wife. To fuck her of course, but that was only one of countless things he had planned for her. And it was fortunate for his peace of mind that he had not stopped to consider that Duke had probably done them all before. And no matter how expert Dandy was, Duke had probably done them better.
Returning to his apartments, Duke lit a cigar and settled himself in an armchair awaiting the imminent delivery of Rebecca. His thoughts turned to Montague and he found that he was more concerned than he cared to admit over whatever problem it was that had caused the sudden abandonment of his father's Christmas arrangements. After toying with the notion of disobeying Montague's instructions and following him to The States, he dismissed the idea; if his help were to be required the elders of The Brotherhood would not be slow in letting him know.
He had not however been at all concerned about handing his wife over to another man, his own abilities being such that it was unlikely that anyone else would be able to rouse her to the same extremes of passion and lust as he did. And he was pleased that Dandy was finally getting what he had been coveting for so long, although it was entirely possible that his friend would eventually rue the day that his dream had come true. Lolli was a really remarkable woman. Perhaps too remarkable. Dandy was in for the experience of a lifetime and whoever or whatever followed was always going to be second best. As for Lolli, Duke knew that she would feel nothing but pride that he thought so much of her that he wished to share her with his friend. She would not let him down, of that he was certain.
You can't light a fire without a spark. An old axiom, but one that had always stuck in Duke's mind. And the moment that he laid eyes on Rebecca that spark flamed his penis into a furnace of throbbing, raging flame. There was no way that she could surpass Lolli in looks, allure or sensuality, but she possessed something. What, he did not know as yet but he would find out before the night was over. He had inherited his father's ability and expertise in the appraisal of stock and surveyed her critically as she stood before him, and listing her qualities in his mind he spelt them out to himself.
Her hair was shaggy and dark, and cut in a very unusual style that matched the description left by his father. Very fetching. Classically fine with full sensuous lips, her features were perhaps spoiled a little by her nose. He turned her around, slapping the meat padding her haunches, feeling a pleased satisfaction at its firmness. Her flesh had recovered in remarkably quick time from the punishment it had been dealt by Montague only a few days earlier, only a few scattered bruises and the faint arrowhead-like imprints of the cane still remaining.
Although Duke normally favoured basques, or laced corsets with no breast cups, he had not ordered such an outfit for this occasion. Instead Rebecca wore a short, beautifully embroidered red silk shimmy, smooth and sensuous to the touch and with long narrow shoulder straps. Her breasts were firm full mounds and although the material of the shimmy was not diaphanous, her ringed nipples pushed through it, clearly allowing Duke to appreciate and savour the dark brown circles of her areolae. Its bottom lay loose across her skin at a point a little higher than the glistening diamond decorating her pierced navel.
Nestling on her hips, good childbearing hips Duke noted, a butterfly suspender belt of matching embroidered material framed her pubic nest with long suspenders that flowed over her pleasingly flat stomach. Suspenders with diamond studded clips that hooked onto the broad lace bands of her stockings. White of course. And the diamonds were a Christmas present that he hoped she would fully earn.
Between the thighs to which the suspenders clung he spied neat, clipped pubes that showed her labia and sex to full advantage. Unusually for him he felt the desire to plunge his shaft into that beckoning sex without the preparation of a suitable beating. But he held himself in check as his eyes swept up and down the full length of her form. As his eyes came to rest on her feet his appreciation of her increased tenfold.
Duke loved shoes. Beautiful shoes. His wife Lolli had a collection of exquisite footwear from the world's most famous designers. Shoes of the most perfect leathers that she kept in their original containers wrapped in silk. And they never saw the light of day unless he so ordered. And on her feet Rebecca wore a pair of wonderful creations whose home should have been in his wife's collection. They were obviously so expensive that they must have been the gift of an extremely rich benefactor and that benefactor could well have been Montague. It would not have been the first time that he had presented exquisite footwear such as they were to ladies of whom he had a high regard. And that caused Duke to wonder. Montague had hinted that he had an extra special something for Lolli and to Duke it looked as if that special something had found its way onto Rebecca's feet. And if that were truly the case, then she must be a very, very extra-special woman indeed.
He had instructed that she be brought to his own apartments and had prepared everything accordingly; she was a hot, sensuous woman and he intended to stoke that heat into furnace-like proportions. He was going to whip her, beat her and abuse her until she was in a frenzy of desire, totally unable to stop herself from begging him to plunge his penis into her depths. Until her screams of wanton desire rang through The Lodge and she was fucked into a state of complete emotional and physical exhaustion. Duke was supreme. If any man do could such a thing, he was confident that it was he.
So he took it nice and slow. He had no need to hurry and he was determined to find out just what it was that had so entranced his father. Reaching out he smoothed both palms over the fullness of her heavy breasts, savouring their lush density as the silk moved over them beneath his palms. With his left hand still firmly squeezing one breast, he gripped the nipple of her other udder between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and pulled, elongating her hard bullet and evoking a sigh of appreciation and a frisson of anticipation from her as she shivered beneath his caress. Duke had strength of character, a formidable presence and good looks, and without the slightest trace of narcissism or egotism knew that Rebecca was probably wilting under his attention. It was a commonplace reaction. And one that he took totally for granted.
Viciously pinching the nipple he used it to tug her close, then through the material of the shimmy he took the heavy ring piercing it between his teeth and in a sudden movement tugged his head sharply backwards. Rebecca's injured shriek was ear splitting, her reaction, although not being out of the ordinary, was nevertheless totally unacceptable. It was not a good start; Duke's action had been a test, which she had failed and in doing so she had earned a punishment for herself almost immediately. And the moment that reason once again took over from pain, her apprehensive expression signalled that she realised that fact. Biting her lip, she stood silent and motionless as Duke released the ring from his teeth. With the most disapproving look on his face he pulled her close and with her eyes only inches from his own he addressed her in the coldest of tones.
"I see that you are not as well trained as I had expected. Most unfortunate. For you, that is, because before we can go any further it is plainly now my duty to punish you for your lack of self control."
Pushing her away from him, he grasped the flimsy shimmy in one hand and ripped it from her body, fully exposing her firm, ripe breasts. They begged for his attention, whether it be from cane or whip, or from his mouth and fingers. Madame Stalevsky had delicately coloured her large nut-brown areolae with a complementary shade of glossy lipstick, which in turn had the effect of enhancing the distinctive yellowy copper shade of the thick rose gold rings that pierced her nipples.
Both of his palms closed over her magnificent mounds, and squeezing and fondling them his appreciation of her physical charms directed itself straight to his penis. Unbidden, his shaft lengthened and hardened and tugging down his zip, he took one of her hands and slipped it inside his undershorts. It was cool on his hot flesh giving him an added pleasure as her palm fastened around his girth. She had a good touch, her fingers working on the sensitive underside of his glans as she stroked slowly and sensuously up and down his appreciative penis.
Rebecca certainly knew what she was doing and he continued to enjoy a languorous masturbation for several minutes until eventually he felt the need for something more. Removing her hand, he placed his own hand on the top of her head and pushed her down onto to her knees in front of him. No words were required and she lost no time in freeing his now rampant weapon from its captivity. Clasping its length in both hands, her tongue snaked out and went straight to that same sensitive spot on the underside of his bell-end. Flicking and licking in turn she concentrated her efforts on just that one spot and it was not long before Duke felt himself becoming hotly aroused. He was ready, he needed her mouth and again she sensed his need. Opening her jaws wide she plunged over his throbbing shaft and sucking wildly and in total abandonment she brought him to ejaculation in seconds.
Sperm; hot, sticky and deliciously salty poured over her tongue as he bucked and jerked in an unexpectedly swift climax. Jet after jet shot down her throat as she swallowed and savoured every last drop of his tasty emission. As his shaft began to slacken and he pulled it from her mouth, she let out a sigh of disappointment and continued to lick her lips in search of any trace of sperm that might possibly still be found on them. Duke stood looking down at her with a slightly vexed gaze, how had she done it, he asked himself. He would have to watch himself very carefully from now on; no one, not even Lolli had ever brought him off so quickly. This girl certainly knew her business, of that there was no question.
However, she still had to be punished and so after zipping his penis back where it belonged, he pulled her to her feet. Still slightly annoyed with himself, he took her wrist and tugged her with more force than was really necessary over to a mahogany armchair and bent her over the padded arms. She was not in the least happy, not it seemed because of the discomfort that he was causing her but because of the possibility of harm coming to the chair. An absolutely unprecedented rebuke fell from her lips.
"But Master, this is a Chippendale, it's priceless."
So, she really did possess knowledge of more than just a sexual nature and Duke noted that her concern for the fate of the chair was more that of a connoisseur than just an idle interest. The chair was indeed a Chippendale, with graceful flowing lines, elaborate ornamentation and an intricately carved back, but although it was a thing of beauty and style, its maker had ensured that it was of solid construction. In fact it could have been made specifically for Duke, so eminently suitable was it for his purposes.
"The chair is none of your concern, if I wished to discuss antique furniture I would talk to Christie's, or Sotheby's. All you need to understand is that I will not countenance a lack of discipline under any circumstances."
Also, although he was actually quite impressed and not a little puzzled by her knowledge, he told her that not only had she spoken without his authority but her insubordination in mentioning the chair was outrageous. And for that there would be an extra punishment.
He had changed into casual wear after dinner and one item of it was a wide, thick leather belt holding up his jeans. Unbuckling the heavy metal clasp, he pulled the belt slowly through the loops, allowing her to see his every movement. Duke noticed that although her tear-filled eyes followed his actions they were also sweeping over the room, examining and taking full note of her surroundings. A lot of women did that, as though the ambience, decoration or mood of the room was an integral part of their experience. It probably affected a woman far more than a man he thought, although he himself seemed to be more animated in the heavy, intimidating atmosphere of the dungeon. Actually he would have taken her in that very cellar if Montague had not carried out such a perfect session there only a few days before. He did not intend to give her any chance of a direct comparison between himself and his father.
Rebecca's firm fabulous bottom looked Duke straight in the eye. Her sex was clearly visible between her parted legs and a melange of different but complementary perfumes wafted up from its rouged lips to seep into his nostrils. Armani and Black Narcissus he was able to recognise, but there were others that escaped his very knowledgeable nose. Was she herself responsible for that wonderful mixture? Or was it Madame Stalevsky? For once he was inclined to give the credit to the Housegirl, this one certainly seemed to know exactly what she was doing.
Pushing a hand between her legs, he ran his index finger along the length of her slit, the finger penetrating up to the first knuckle joint. He then ran the finger beneath his nose, the new mixture of perfume and Rebecca's vaginal juices begetting a jolt that ran straight from his nose to his penis. Very, very sensual. If that aroma could be bottled it would be the ultimate aphrodisiac and he could make another fortune to add to the vast one he already had.
He had placed the chair in front of a full-length mirror and ordering her to keep her eyes fixed on the glass he lifted the belt. He had really expected her to have learned and demonstrated more self-control, her told her, but if she was finding that impossible then he had no alternative but to thrash her until she did so learn. And she was to watch as every lash from the belt fell onto her backside.
The first savage impact seared across her buttocks and not only her backside but her whole body jerked in pained response. Duke looked in the mirror to see her grimly clenching her jaws, her face screwed up as she fought to deny the agony and remain silent. He lingered, allowing the full after shock of the blow to develop and spread over her hindquarters. When the initial pain finally began to diminish somewhat and her face lost some of its tortured expression, he launched his second strike. It was as ferocious as the first and Duke was quite impressed that she once again managed to suppress a wail. His arm lifted again and in the mirror he could see her eyes following his every movement. The belt lashed down once more, her teeth biting into her lip as it hit home. Three times further he treated her to its fiery torments and although a flood of tears flowed over her cheeks, she still made no sound.
She was now proving to be quite resilient, stronger than first impressions had indicated. Six blazing bands of agony pulsed on her backside and as he had not yet attained the reaction he was after, another six swiftly joined them. She still made no sound and so the backs of her thighs received the same treatment, the belt sometimes curling around the front to land a stinging blow on her pubic mound. Ordering her to widen her legs, he whipped the belt upwards between her thighs to deal a mind-numbing lash directly onto her increasingly lubricating sex. The desired response came immediately, a piercing, yelping scream of agony. Her haunches and the backs of her legs beneath the sheer and now tattered stockings were a crimson mass and she shuddered helplessly as he threw down the belt and slapped the tortured meat of her bottom with a wide-open palm.
"Stand up. And stop blubbering."
Rebecca fought to stand up straight as she had been ordered but unfortunately for her she was unable to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. It was however useful for Duke as it gave him a chance to allow her a little respite while not appearing to be so doing.
"Your refusal to obey my command and stop your confounded crying is noted and I am not pleased. You will seek out Madame Stalevsky immediately and report your misbehaviour. Tell her also that I expect her to deal with you suitably and to punish you for disobedience when I return you to her custody."
Madame Stalevsky would be incensed, Duke knew that, and the dread that would inspire in Rebecca was another torture he had inflicted upon her. Not physical, but mental this time and Rebecca would not be able to shake it from her mind. No matter what he did to her now, it would haunt her and thus intensify the results of his flagitious ministrations.
Rebecca however was hesitant.
"Come on girl, get on with it. What are you waiting for?"
She said nothing, she knew much better than that now. Instead she unhappily indicated herself. Duke knew what she was saying: She was striped, beaten and apart from shredded stockings she was naked, her sex was plainly on view and her face was a mess. Was she to walk through the corridors of The Lodge in that condition?
Of course she was.
"You're quite right, you do look disgusting. Get Madame Stalevsky to clean you up and fix your make-up at the same time."
With that he opened the door and directed her on her way.
"And don't take all night about it."

When she had gone, Duke lay on his bed, hands behind his head, whistling and with a satisfied smile on his face. Rebecca's interlude with Madame Stalevsky would be very interesting indeed and he could only guess at the vilification that she would undergo. It would not be pleasant to say the very least. He was in no hurry and it would give him an hour or so to enjoy a cigar and a small malt whisky. He drank very little, if at all, when he was actually in session, his brain had to be clear and he had to keep his wits about him.
Mentally, he reviewed his plans for Rebecca when she returned, grinning wickedly at the juicier ideas that entered his mind. For a moment he allowed his thoughts to stray to Montague, deliberating over the situation in the States but quickly dismissed them. There was nothing he could do and no one was more capable than his father, so he concentrated on the matter in hand. Pleasure.
Eventually a firm knock came on his door. Rolling off the bed he opened it to find a grim faced Madame Stalevsky standing there, together with a thoroughly reconstructed Rebecca. She looked magnificent once again, a picture of raw sexuality and beauty. Madame Stalevsky pushed her forwards.
"Master Duke, I can only apologise for this disrespectful girl's insolent behaviour. As you have requested I will see that she is made to see the error of her ways when you return her to me. In the meantime she will not present you with any further problems."
Bidding Duke good night, she strode purposefully away, no doubt to continue her supervision of the Christmas entertainment.
Duke was ready. He was really going to work on Rebecca now, but first she had to be properly prepared. He decided to loosen her up with the scourge, a martinet with multiple supple leather thongs. It was not too extreme an implement to start with and he could use it effectively over most parts of her body without marking her too much. Almost spoilt for choice due to the selection available, he picked up a likely candidate that had caught his eye earlier. Apart from having a shaped and polished wooden handle that fitted into the palm very comfortably, the extremities of the nine fifteen inch leather tails had been split in order to spread the effects over a broader area of flesh.
All of her outfit had been replaced, and very fetchingly too. She was now dressed entirely in black. A plunge-fronted Diva corset tightened her waist and showed off her immaculate breasts to great advantage. A G-string, lace-topped hold-up stockings and stilettos with long pointed toes completed her ensemble. It was all very sensuous, that much Duke could not deny and he spent a few lust-filled moments appreciating her alluring charms. It was a pity that he could not take full advantage of the possibilities the clothing offered, normally he took great pleasure in the combined feel of fine material and bare flesh beneath his palms. But right at that moment he needed her naked and so standing her before him, he grasped the top of the corset and after ripping open the hooks and eyes that fastened it down the front, he pulled it from her body. The G-string and the lace-topped stockings were disposed of and wearing nothing but the five-inch high stiletto-heeled shoes he carefully placed her in position. Fastening studded leather cuffs to her wrists, he linked them into chains set into the ceiling hooks and hauled her arms upwards until she was fully stretched. Matching cuffs were buckled around her ankles and spreading her feet apart, he attached an unusually long four-foot spreader bar made of rich, stained hardwood to the rings riveted on to them. Very uncomfortable indeed for her and it gave him unlimited space between her legs and thighs in which to work.
Checking that everything was fully in order, with no further ceremony he set to his task. Extremely methodical as always, he started with the backs of her shoulders, working his way down to her rump and then down the backs of her thighs to her calves. Nothing too painful as yet, just a regular sustained flogging, and due to the suppleness of the leather only dull stripes proclaimed where the leather thongs had struck. Squirming under his assault, she grunted occasionally, now and again twisting her body in an attempt to lessen the impact of the blows. He returned to her buttocks, giving them a more thorough lashing and then stood back to survey his handiwork.
He was forced to credit himself with a job well done. There were no pale patches and no area that he had missed. As he had known that they would, the initial individual stripes had spread and merged into one another, tanning her all over with an even shade of darkish red. He dropped the martinet, reached out and fondled her buttocks. She flinched a little under his touch, showing that she was indeed feeling some discomfort. In the first test she had done quite well.
It was time to step up a stage and the paddle would be next. Again he chose with care, eventually deciding on a double sided leather model fashioned from heavy full grain hide complete with studs around its perimeter and stitching that stood proud from its surface. It was an instrument that was not particularly successful in preparing a woman for sex, but as part of a co-ordinated effort it had its uses. He would only use it on her rump, as it was far too extreme in its effects for any more delicate area of her body. Producing a loud slap every time it landed, its aural possibilities intrigued him. By laying it on at differing angles to her buttocks, he was able to vary the volume and tone of the resulting slap as it struck home. He pondered for a moment, and then laid the paddle on to her thigh, not striking with as much force as he used on her rump. The slap of the impact was different, lighter in sound and aural texture than when it ravaged her bottom. But nevertheless it evoked a startled scream. Duke dismissed the yelp as he began to see possibilities in the combinations of sounds and enjoyed himself for several minutes composing a mini symphony for paddle, bottom, thigh and scream, until he realised that her meat was beginning to darken rapidly and stopped abruptly. Patches of her flesh were already of a purplish hue, and he had no doubt that the rest of her backside would attain a similar colour very shortly. Damn. He had enjoyed his brief spell as a musician too much, so much that he had allowed himself to get carried away. He was not happy with that. He always maintained one hundred and one per cent self-control and even a small slip such as that was not to be countenanced.
He had no doubt that like Lolli she would not be available for the New Year revels, no one else would be able to work on her bottom for a week or more. And as Dandy had been informed earlier, to return a girl in an unfit condition at this particularly special time of the year would result in the usual heavy fine being increased to an astronomic level. Still, now that the damage was done, he had nothing to lose. So he stepped up to phase three. Walking around her, he stood facing her, noting the look of defiance that was imprinted upon her features. She had not succumbed so far and was proud of it, he could tell that. Good, that was how he liked it, it gave him a greater incentive. With her arms stretched above her, her breasts stood out clear and free. Easily available. And what magnificent breasts they were. And the martinet and the paddle must have done more than just hurt her, because her nipples now stood proud and erect, thrusting skywards.
She liked the treatment. That was gratifying, and just to check he ran his hand between her legs and up against her sex. As he thought, it was damp and her labia parted easily to allow the stiffened edge of his hand and his little finger to sink inside their welcoming lips. She writhed under his touch, obviously hoping for more. But she would not get it. Not yet anyway.
Now he was going to pay due regard to the preparation of her mammaries. As this was her first session with him, he was leaving nothing to chance. He had a great deal of experience himself and had been taught well by Montague himself, so he knew that the implement for that task was the flat-tongued quirt. He had used it times without number, and Madame Stalevsky had very conveniently gifted him with a brand new model. Once again as the lashes landed, he found that it dealt very adequately and pleasantly with the soft lymph, at the same time, the tongues spreading out over her sensitive areolae ensured that they received direct attention. And with Rebecca's fully erect nipples being pierced with heavy rings the effects as the lashing leather stimulated them was spectacular. She writhed and moaned aloud, no longer able to maintain her silence. Duke struck faster and faster, always with deadly accuracy, and her arousal became ever more obvious. He increased the severity of the lashes, piling them on with greater intensity, until totally unable to contain herself any longer she screamed out loud. A full-blooded banshee wail, begging him to work on her sex and to give her fulfilment.
So, it was proven, she was really no stronger than the others. Firstly she had failed when he had punished her with the belt and now this. He had nurtured hopes that she would be made of sterner stuff. That she would be able to hold out longer, but it was obviously not to be. Her needs were nothing to him; he would fuck her, but only for his own benefit and pleasure. And to make sure that she did not forget herself and take advantage of his shaft to bring herself off, he would not plug her sex but her other tempting hole.
Releasing her from the chains and the spacer bar, he slapped her across the room. She was useless, a failure and his report to Madame Stalevsky would say so. Why his father had rated her so highly he could not say, or so he told her. Privately he had to admit that despite her final capitulation she was spectacular, but not totally perfect material. Of one thing he was sure, she would never equal Lolli.
He placed her over the thickly upholstered arm of a sofa, her head and elbows sinking into the cushions and her bottom thrust high into the air so that he could take her from a standing position. For the second time he released his weapon from his jeans, notching his bell into the pucker of Rebecca's anus. Pushing against her sphincters he encountered an unexpected resistance. That little hole was tight. So tight that Duke deduced that it had never been penetrated before. Things were looking up. He was always pleased when the task of de-flowering a virgin orifice was laid before him. A vagina did offer more of a challenge and possibly greater subsequent satisfaction, but an anus was an acceptably juicy alternative. A very perceptive and surprised Madame Stalevsky, upon discovering that Rebecca was anally unsullied, had ensured that throughout her training she remained that way. It would be a rare prize for whichever Master became the first to introduce Rebecca to the pleasures of that particular method of intercourse and she knew that he would enjoy himself immensely. And Duke was about to prove that she was right.
Rebecca squirmed uncomfortably as his generously proportioned glans sought entrance her most private of places. The harder he pushed, the more her wriggling increased.
"Keep still, damn you."
"I'm sorry master... but..."
"No buts. It's not hard to tell that you've never had the pleasure of a man's shaft up your backside before. But that is no excuse. And a further black mark will be added to my report."
Accompanied by a series of yelping squeals from Rebecca as his fingers dug into her paddle beaten rump meat, he pressed outwards with both hands, pushing the cheeks of her buttocks apart and so stretching her unsullied hole a little wider.
"Now, try to relax, I can only stretch you so far, it is up to you to allow me entrance."
Trying to push a penis through constricted sphincters can be difficult for the master and result in great pain for the slave and so he needed her co-operation for both his own and her benefit. Sensing some lessening in the tightness of her anus, thrusting hard he squeezed the head of his penis past the barrier of her external sphincters, which being under the control of the central nervous system can be relaxed with concentrated effort, and it appeared that she had managed to achieve this. So at least she had managed to do that correctly and his whole glans now lay buried inside her, but there it stuck, completely denied any further entrance. Not being a straight tube, in fact having two major curves along its length, if a man inserts his shaft into the rectum at the wrong angle it can run straight into the first curve and achieve no further penetration. But that was not the problem in this case, Rebecca simply had the tightest backside that Duke had ever encountered and without the benefit of any natural lubrication, penetrating it fully was going to prove an almost impossible feat.
But never one to be unprepared for any situation, the solution was close at hand. Slapping her rump with a vicious intensity that had her screaming once again, he pulled out from the limited entrance he had made. Baby oil, that was the answer. And a bottle of that very oil was nestling in the bottom of the rack that held the canes, placed there by him for just such an eventuality.
Following a liberal application of the oil, Duke's penis glistened in the flickering light. Once more he nudged his glans into the notch of her anus.
"Push girl, push back against me."
And so saying, he thrust into her as she obeyed his instructions. This time their combined efforts saw his weapon burst through her defences to bury itself several inches into her passage. Another huge thrust, and then one more and he was fully in. Right up to the hilt. Still held in a solid vicelike grip, but well and truly in.
It had been a struggle but now he was there and he had no doubt whatsoever that she was feeling as if she were being ripped apart. He had a penis that even the most well endowed man would have been proud to call his own, and it was sunk into the tightest hole he'd ever encountered. It was glorious.
He eased back, then pushed forwards. He carried on, pulling out a little more each time before plunging back in, pumping an ever-increasing length of solid cock in and out with every stroke. Quite soon he was able to maintain a regular even reaming of her tunnel, pleasuring him immensely and judging by the low moans escaping from Rebecca's lips, performing the same service for her. Duke was not unaware of the reason for her enjoyment, knowing that because the clitoral body is much larger than it seems, it is subjected to continuous indirect stimulation during anal intercourse. In fact a medical man of his acquaintance had told him that all orgasms are to some degree anal orgasms due to the mutual intertwining of nerves and muscles between the vagina and the rectum.
But that knowledge did nothing to excuse her.
"Quiet girl. I did not give you permission to enjoy it."
But she was doing just that and as his pistoning weapon increased its tempo she wriggled beneath him, rubbing her clitoris on the arm of the sofa. Her limbs tensed, her bottom pushed harder against his strokes and as Duke reached an explosive climax, she collapsed under him in a most spectacular orgasm of her own. Without waiting for his penis to slacken, he pulled it from her anus, ripping it out past her sphincters and causing her to cry out with pain. His action had been deliberate, experience telling him that the discomfort of withdrawal would far exceed the pain of penetration.
Taking a fistful of her hair he pulled her upright and as he released his grip she fell to the floor and then leapt to take his sticky weapon in her mouth. She wanted it, to taste it, to suck and devour it. And in return Duke's penis wanted her to do all those things, so he allowed her to carry on. The retribution and the punishment would come later.

Seven: December 27th

ALL IN ALL, despite her failures Rebecca had proved to be capable of an impressive performance so Duke did not deny her the pleasure of swallowing his semen. In fact he kept her busy throughout the entire night, fucking her vigorously half a dozen more times and pumping several testicle loads of sperm into her ever appreciative mouth. When he finally sent for an aide to collect her and return her to her quarters she was exhausted. Exhausted, fucked silly and bruised beyond the capability of just a couple of days' recuperation to restore her to pristine condition.
He signed a chit presented to him by the aide, confirming her condition and giving authorisation for the fine, whatever it should prove to be, to be added to his account. And in a magnanimous gesture, although he told her that he had not been one hundred per cent satisfied with her performance, he allowed her to keep the diamonds that had been sewn into her suspender belt.
Then he took a shower, shaved himself rather than waiting for a Housegirl to come and do it, and without the slightest trace of fatigue, dressed again in casual gear he set out for the dining room and breakfast. It was not long before he was joined by a very obviously delighted Dandy, and the next hour or so was spent in swapping anecdotes of their previous night's escapades. As he had anticipated, Dandy had indeed rendered Lolli unusable for quite some time and so it seemed they had achieved a double. But that presented no problem, there may have been two down but there were plenty more to go.
Duke picked up the menu and going through it together, they selected their next choice of girls. Once that was decided they again fell into more reminiscences of their experiences on Boxing Day. Arriving at practically the same time, they had been asked by the gatekeeper to leave their cars at the entrance, being advised that house chauffeurs would drive them up to The Lodge itself. The reason soon became clear, as providing one of the highlights of their day, John Carpenter, dressed as Father Christmas appeared, driving a team of suitably attired pony girls pulling behind them a very Hollywood styled version of Santa's sleigh. It had been a magnificent, if perhaps a deliberately over the top parody of times gone by. A tape of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas serenaded their ears as steam snorting from their nostrils, the girls, joined by Lolli who had been harnessed into a deliberately vacant slot, hauled the heavy sled over the snow-covered drive that led to the Big House.
Both of them dissolved into uncontrollable laughter as they recalled Carpenter's initial welcome to them both, as going into full Santa Claus mode he had regaled them with a traditional but slightly amended greeting.
"Ho, ho fucking ho!"
Duke had one extra amusing tale to relate. After Dandy had raced off to keep his appointment with Lolli, he had retired to the bar for a final brandy before he began his own session with the new girl, Rebecca. Standing, as opposed to sitting, which was his usual custom, he spied a Housegirl who he had used very satisfactorily in the past. Beckoning her over he had her kneel before him, unzip his flies and take his penis into her mouth.
All very normal, except that he had just eaten a spectacularly splendid Christmas lunch and as a result he felt bloated beyond belief. Popping open several buttons of his waistcoat, he looked down over his unusually distended stomach to see a pair of wonderful breasts slapping against his knees as the girl's mouth bobbed up and down over his increasingly responsive weapon. But it was her nipples that intrigued him, clamped tightly over them, fixed to what looked like huge steel butterfly clips were red noses. Reindeer noses. Obviously another of Carpenter's Christmas capers.
Duke did not give a damn, he was as happy as the next man to indulge in a little seasonal cheer. And what's more, she was doing a damn fine job. As his orgasm neared, after downing the remnants of his brandy, he urged her to faster and faster slides over his primed penis. At the very moment of his ejaculation he had yelled what later seemed to him to be an overwhelmingly embarrassing encouragement.
"Giddy up Rudolf. Go!"
And of course, she had.

***

As contented and jovial as Duke and Dandy were, at the other end of the happiness scale Melinda and Olivia Carlisle were suffering in abject misery. David had released Olivia from her ordeal in the dungeon and had stabled Melinda with her in the filthy, freezing outhouse, where she now languished sobbing and distraught. For once Olivia had not been gagged and through their tears they were swapping stories of how they had come to find themselves in such a terrifying situation.
Olivia told Melinda that since her arrival she had been regularly abused and beaten by David, one of Peter's right hand men. On her arrival at the house a previously caring and gentle Peter had dumped her, giving her to the Disciples to use and abuse as they wished. And they had used her vilely, assaulting her in packs, half a dozen of them at the same time plunging their shafts into her every available site. Her vagina and her anus of course, and unbelievable as it might have seemed, sometimes two at the same time. But not only that, they had used her mouth, the valleys between her breasts and her backside, and even her armpits with which to relieve themselves. She had been showered with sperm and their vile emissions had still dripped from her body long after they had thrown her into the outhouse.
Distraught and filled with pain, their laughter and jeers had rung in her ears for endless misery-filled hours until the following morning when David had appeared, laying a crust of stale bread and a chipped mug of cold water on the dirt floor in front of her. Hungry and thirsty she had scrabbled to grab the meagre offering and as she gobbled it down he had told her that what she had suffered the night before had been an initiation. But because he saw something in her that appealed to him, from that moment onwards she would be his alone, he was now her Master and she must address him as such at all times. She was nothing but a worthless whore he had told her, like all women, but he was going to train her and when he had finished with her she would be cleansed, she would be his obedient slave and carry out his every command and that of any other man he so designated.
Then he had fucked her. Again and again, with a brutal unconcern for her feelings. And when he was not beating or training her in some way, he had carried on fucking her ever since. In the few hours each day during which she was not suffering directly at his hands she had lain chained in the dark with sperm oozing down her inner thighs, her eyes brimming with tears and her body racked with pain. As some sort of futile commiseration, Melinda told her that she knew full well how brutal and pitiless David could be, having suffered at his hands herself.
Olivia had not come into much direct contact with the other twelve girls being held in the Cathedral, but she had witnessed the cruel treatment to which they were subjected. As far as she had been able to gather, unlike Melinda, all these girls were like her and had originally been beguiled by Peter or one of the Disciples and of their own free will had become devotees of Aztor. Once in the hands of The Children and unable to escape, chained and blindfolded they had been brought to the manor house and since their arrival they had been in continual training until their spirits had been broken and they had now ended up as pathetic sex slaves with no will of their own. Despite being claimed by David, Olivia was certain that she, and no doubt Melinda, was destined to become one of them, chained together as they were in squalid surroundings awaiting an unknown fate.
However, from Peter's comments when she had been kidnapped, Melinda was fairly sure that she herself was being held for ransom and not for sale, but she told Olivia that she thought that she knew what the future held in store for the others. That was because before being rescued by John Carpenter, the same thing had happened to several of the girls with whom she worked. Admittedly in their cases the atrocities had been perpetrated in Eastern Europe or the Balkans, but the situations were almost identical.
And Melinda was right. The girls were all destined to be sold to the highest bidder at auction, being just the latest in a very long line of abductees. Most of them had been recruited by the Disciples after being approached on the streets, the men's trained eyes picking out likely candidates. The twelve Disciples themselves had been selected and initiated by Peter himself and were devoted to him and to the doctrine of Aztor. Of Peter's two right hand men, James had come with him from America to set up the British branch of the cult and David was English, having been picked out by Peter to lead The Children upon his return to The States.
Much to his surprise, David had been told by Peter that very day that the time for that return was almost at hand as Aztor needed both himself, James and the gold to power the starships in America immediately. All that remained to be done before he could leave was for the present batch of girls to be sold and the two remaining temptresses to be procured for Aztor. Recent events had influenced David greatly and he was beginning to have serious doubts as to whether Aztor really existed, he had just accepted Peter's words as the truth. It was just possible that, using The Children as a front, the kidnapping and selling of girls into slavery was nothing but a convoluted, devious con trick and that Peter, probably in league with James, intended to keep all the proceeds himself. It was only the three special girls that damped his doubts, they were an enigma and Peter certainly appeared genuine in his concern that they were kept unharmed until Aztor himself claimed them.
Although he had spent a great deal of time with Olivia when he originally enticed her into the sect, Peter had not known who her father was. And he still did not, as far as he was concerned she was destined to be sold just like every other girl. However, David had recognised the connection from a story in the newspapers and had privately decided that she would fetch infinitely more in ransom money than she would in an open meat market. To this end he had prepared an explicit videotape showing her abuse at Peter's hands and those of the Disciples. The price of her safe release was to be ten per cent of her father's fortune.
As Sir Oliver Carlisle was acknowledged as one of the top ten richest men in the Western world, the amount involved was awesome. But not as awesome as if Peter had demanded that same ransom from Montague for Melinda's release, the extent of his personal fortune being a close, unfathomable secret. That it was vast beyond estimation was without doubt and added to that, inexhaustible funds were available to him from The Brotherhood. But that was not what Peter had in mind, Melinda had been very wrong in her assumptions as to why she was being held. He had no intention of releasing her for money, she and the two other temptresses yet to be captured were sacrifices, to be delivered to Aztor himself. For what exact reason or purpose even he had not been told, but when he had them he was going to sate his own lusts on them, they were after all the best there was and there was no reason why Aztor should ever find out.
Olivia and Melinda consoled each other as best they could, Olivia covering herself with the straw in an effort to keep warm. She was shivering with cold, still having been given nothing to wear except the tattered remnants of the dress in which she had arrived several weeks earlier; she was smeared with dirt and grime and her bruised body was encrusted with dried sperm. David allowed her nothing more than an occasional small bowl of icy water with which to cleanse herself, she was given neither soap nor a towel or anything she could use to dry herself. So after The Disciples' initial assault she had not been able to rid herself entirely of their vile emissions and since then he, not to mention Ryan, had added greatly to the film of dried sperm that coated her body. She would only be granted the privilege of soap and hot water when he was fully satisfied that she had shown herself to be completely obedient to his will.
Suddenly the door was thrown open and David marched in shaking the snow from his clothes, although his bare feet were still encased in nothing but the open-toed sandals. Olivia immediately struggled to her knees, bowed her head, and as much as her chains would allow, after kissing his feet adopted an unmistakably subservient position in front of him. There was no doubt that he had trained her well, she was far more disciplined than she had intimated to Melinda and the look in her eyes was more that of a devoted pet than that of an abused slave. Melinda looked on in horror; it was obvious that Olivia was already completely under his control.
"You're filthy. And you stink worse than a pig. How dare you present yourself in such a state when I come for you?"
Olivia said nothing but Melinda caught her breath, she too had been through the same sort of treatment earlier in her life. It was the sort of cruel behaviour that a Master often used to subdue a slave and bring her to heel. David heard her gasp and wheeling round delivered a swift stroke of the riding crop he was carrying to her defenceless breasts.
"Keep your mouth shut, slag. You're lucky Peter's ordered that you be reserved for him alone, otherwise I'd flay you raw."
And with a kick to her backside, he returned his attention to Olivia.
"What are you waiting for?"
Lifting her head, she turned to Melinda with a look of despair, before reaching out and untying the surcingle around David's cassock. With the rough cloth now hanging loose she freed his penis from beneath his robe. And that was not easy with her wrists so tightly shackled together. She hesitated, unwilling or afraid to carry on. The crop lashed down, cutting across her shoulders and leaving a clear imprint of the leather keeper as well as the crimson weal brought up by the haft. She cried out, as much in despair as in pain and immediately received a second slash of the crop, this time to her breasts.
"Get on with it. What's the matter, don't you want your new friend to see how much you enjoy sucking my cock?"
That was exactly Olivia's problem; she was desperate not to reveal to Melinda that despite David's abominable treatment of her that she had indeed come to regard sucking him off as a privilege and a pleasure. For Melinda to regard her as the whore that David continually said she was would have stripped away the last vestige of her pride. In her innocence she had no idea that by her subservient behaviour she had already given herself away. If she had been fully aware of Melinda's own background, then perhaps she would not have cared so greatly; but she did not, Melinda only having told her that she worked at a large exclusive club called The Lodge. She had recognised the name straightaway because her father was a member and had often mentioned it. He had not of course told her what activities took place there, and because of the high moral stance that he presented to the world, she was under the impression that Melinda was some sort of classy, thoroughly respectable hostess.
She paused too long, David's hand grabbing a fistful of her blonde tresses and hauling her upright. Practically lifting her off her feet, he pulled her face close, just inches from his own, his iron hard penis digging into her pubic mound. His hard, cruel eyes looked straight into hers.
"You should know by now that when I order you to do something, you jump to it. But it seems that you don't."
And then flattening his palm on the top of her head, he slowly pushed her down, crushing her lips against him all the way until they reached his cock.
"Suck. And make a good job of it or the punishment I intend to deal out to you for your tardiness will be all the worse."
Although it would have seemed impossible, Olivia wilted even further under his words and he threw a triumphal glance at Melinda as she grasped his long rigid shaft with both hands, one on top of the other. His huge bell-end stuck out from the top of her loosely clenched fists, as continually twisting her grip as she did so to increase the sensuality, she worked them along the length of his cock as she guided it into her mouth. Her jaws stretched wide as they took his girth between her lips and laid his glans upon her tongue. Her eyes lit up for a moment, she really did like what she thought was the unique flavour of his penis and the taste of his sperm, but they deadened almost immediately at the realisation that they belonged to such a despicable, unfeeling tyrant.
Still grasping his shaft in both hands, she bobbed her mouth back and forth over his helmet, using her tongue and her lips to excite its sensitive underside. David's hips began to undulate in rhythm with her suckling, until his arousal increasing, he tapped her hands away from his throbbing shaft with the end of the crop and grasping her head with his free hand, held it motionless as he savagely thrust the whole length of his weapon into her mouth and down her throat. Olivia gagged but he maintained his grip, bucking back and forth until with a series of animal-like grunts he reached a volcanic climax, pouring his hot sperm into her throat. Fighting for breath, she tried to wrestle his cock from her mouth, his spunk spilling from her lips and dripping from her chin. Brutally, he pulled his still jerking weapon from her mouth and with a copious volume still awaiting release from his testicles, he completed her abasement by pumping spurt after spurt of sticky sperm over her face.
His copious ejaculations at an end, David stood over her, his penis slowly detumescing in his fist. He was not pleased that she had attempted to wrench his manhood from the depths of her throat as he had reached orgasm. Olivia knew that, and she also knew that the punishment would be harsh, being totally unable to stop the tears from forming in her eyes as he cleaned his cock with her hair before returning it to the sanctuary of his robe. Once more he hauled her to her feet, and in a dreadful state, with sperm plastered to her hair and dripping from her nose and cheeks, he grasped the shackles binding her wrists and pulled her towards the door.
Much to Olivia's great surprise, once inside the main house she was not immediately led down into the dreaded torture chamber but instead was hurried through half-lit passageways previously unknown to her. Suddenly bringing her to a stumbling halt, David stopped and opening a somewhat forbidding looking door, pushed her inside. The room was Spartan but clean and tidy, with bare stone walls and no decoration, except for a selection of racks containing instruments of flagellation. Wicked-looking instruments that froze Olivia's blood to ice in her veins and turned her initial relief into dread.
It was David's own room and the only furniture it contained was a dressing table with a huge mirror and a single bed. And laid out on the rough khaki blanket draped over the bed was underwear, very expensive and very feminine underwear. But that was not all; on the dressing table was lipstick, eye shadow, blushers and all the cosmetics necessary for a woman to enhance her natural beauty and turn it into something exceptional. Olivia blinked in bewilderment as her eyes took in the scene, her mind a whirlpool of possibilities but as much as she wanted to ask David what was going on, her mouth remained closed, she knew better now than to ask an uninvited question.
Unlocking the shackles around her wrists, David directed her attention to something that she had missed, another door almost hidden in the shadows at the end of the room. Behind this door was a bathroom complete with a shower and a stack of soft, comforting towels, plus beautifully scented soaps and body sprays. Looking down at her dirty, defiled body a mist of tears filled her eyes; David really did care for her! And this was his way of telling her that it was so. Over the course of the previous few days she had become more and more certain that he was not really as vicious a beast as he seemed and despite her previous self disgust she was finding herself more and more bound to his will. As unbelievable as it would have seemed just a few short weeks earlier, she longed to be his slave and to serve him - to obey his every command and fulfil his every desire. She was certain that his brutish treatment of her had just been his way of testing her and now she found herself more than willing to prove her allegiance to him.
Ignoring the shower, David turned on the two bath taps and allowed the water to run until the room was filled with steam. Then after testing the temperature of the water by dipping his elbow into it he pushed her to the rim of the bath and tipped her bodily into its depths. It was hot. Hot enough to make her gasp; but it was also soothing. She sank into the water, her outstretched arms and her long blonde tresses floating on its surface. It was Heaven. But not for long.
"You have fifteen minutes to clean yourself up, not a second longer. I'll be waiting in the bedroom."
The way she felt, Olivia could have spent fifteen hours luxuriating in the scented water as it eased the soreness in her muscles and caressed her body. However David's word was law and so, reluctantly, she set to washing herself free of the dirt and semen that clung to her and filling a giant sponge with shower gel until it foamed with soapy bubbles, she slowly and dreamily pressed it to her flesh. Up and down her arms she went, over her breasts and down her belly, then starting from her feet she smoothed the sponge up her calves and inner thighs.
Her eyes closed and she revelled in the feeling of cleanliness and purity that swept over her as the filth was scrubbed away, but as she squeezed the foam over her pubic mound and ran the sponge along her labia that feeling changed. It became one of arousal and lust as the soft sponge dug into her vaginal slit and opened up her sex lips. The fingers of one hand found her taut nipples, tweaking and pulling each one in turn as, the sponge now discarded, the fingers of her other hand delved into her sex. Low moans escaped her lips as she opened up her tunnel and replaced her fingers with an oval bar of soap. The soap plugged her tightly, her sighs and moans of pleasure increasing in volume as she plunged it in and out of her vagina.
The hand pleasuring her breasts now moved down to her sex and her fingers began to work on her erect, unhooded clitoris. Squirming and writhing in mounting ecstasy her legs thrashed about uncontrollably as the solid bar of soap continued to ream her hole and her fingers manipulated her love bud. Waves of soapy bubbles splashed over the rim of the bath onto the floor as her entire body convulsed in a wonderfully satisfying orgasm that left her gasping long and audibly. The tremors hit her again and again until at last she sank back down into the comforting depths of the water.
As her senses slowly returned she opened her eyes and shocked sanity returned in an instant. David stood over the bath looking down at her with furious, blazing eyes. Reaching down, with one hand he grasped a handful of her trailing hair and hauled her upright, smacking backwards and forwards across her breasts with the other as he did so. His voice was fire.
"I was beginning to believe that perhaps after all you were not just another gutter-moraled whore, that I could take you wholly as my own and that you would be proud for me to do so. But it seems that I was wrong."
Olivia wanted to shout out that he was mistaken, that she did now wish to belong to him and that she was sorry that she had got carried away and disgraced herself. The opportunity to do so was denied to her as he barked out instructions.
"You have five minutes to complete cleansing yourself and to wash your hair, which from its condition I see that you have not even touched. Five minutes and then present yourself to me for a thorough inspection."
Turning on his heel he went back into the bedroom as Olivia leapt to carry out his orders. It did not take five minutes or anything like it and still dripping water she hurried into his presence.
"Arms up and legs wide apart."
Complying instantly she assumed the required position and David began to examine her thoroughly and minutely. He inspected every inch of her flesh and then kneeling down, he separated her labia and checked her sex. It was pristine and fresh smelling and after turning her around and investigating her bottom, he finally appeared to be satisfied with her efforts. Standing up once more he indicated the underwear, speaking to her in a manner much different to his previous tone, he was gentler - not weaker - but somehow more personal.
"You have an assignment, a test of your worth as a slave and I warn you not to let me down. You will make yourself as desirable as possible, starting with your make-up and your hair."
A hairdryer, a brush and comb lay on the dressing table and sitting in front of the mirror she began to glamorise herself, all the while asking herself exactly what it was that she must face. It took twenty minutes before she was satisfied and after a final look in the mirror, she turned to him for approval. He said nothing, just as he had made no comment as she had applied the blusher, the eye shadow and the lipstick. He hair was a flowing golden cascade and her eyes sparkled.
"Now the clothes."
That was all he said and it was all that was needed.
Walking to the bed, Olivia ran her fingertips over the fine silk of the teddy, finding it wonderfully smooth and sensuous beneath her touch. It was black, as was the whole ensemble, with underwired and lace-trimmed bust cups, a split crotch and suspenders. Slipping it on, she tucked her luscious breasts into the cups, knowing that not only did it feel good, it also made her look even more desirable. Next came the stockings and after rolling one of them over her foot, she smoothed it up her calf, over her knee and finally the milky flesh of her thigh. A long suspender traced a path down the front of her thigh to be clipped into the broad lace band that topped the stocking; intricately patterned, the lace matched that of the bra cups. A second rolled over her buttock to clip into the lace at the back of her leg and then the same procedure was repeated with the other stocking. Then she wriggled her feet into the shoes; long pointed toes and outrageously high stiletto heels marking them as the height of sexual fantasy.
A pair of fingercut rose lace, elbow length gloves completed the outfit and when everything was as she thought it should be, she nervously displayed herself to David, seeking his approval. She looked ravishing and her heart skipped a beat as his hungry eyes devoured her. But he said nothing, instead pulling a pair of long sparkling earrings from some hiding place in his cassock. Thrusting them into her open palm he ordered her to put them on and then with his hands on her shoulders he turned her around and ran his eyes over her transformed, enticing body.
"You'll do."
That was as much praise as she got, but it was more than she had expected and it sparked an inner glow that radiated through her being. Pulling open the drawer of the dressing table, he took out a spiked black leather collar with wrist cuffs attached to it and fastened it around her neck. Then bending her arms upwards from the elbow he buckled her wrists into the cuffs, and finally clipping a long plaited leather dog lead into the giant silver hoop on the front of the collar, he tugged her towards the door.
"This is your big moment. Your chance to prove yourself to me. Do not let me down."
Pulling her behind him, David led Olivia through the dark, flame lit, foreboding corridors of the ancient mansion until she stood before the heavy iron-studded oak door of the sanctum of sanctums, Peter's quarters. After rapping loudly on the heavy door, David pushed it open to reveal a tapestry-hung and plushly furnished room that could not have been more of a contrast to the one she had just left.
It was the first time that she had set eyes on Peter since he had brought her to the manor and she looked upon him with unconcealed distaste as he invited her inside, memories of the dreadful atrocities that she had been subjected to that night flooding into her mind. He had abandoned her completely and as far as she knew he had made no effort to see her or enquire after her welfare during the time that she had been held prisoner, so what did he want with her now?
Of course there was a reason. And the reason sat, arms folded, almost completely enveloped in the depths of a deeply stuffed leather couch. The man was Arabic in appearance, dark skinned with a thick black beard and dressed in the white robes and ghutra headdress of a desert Sheikh. He started visibly as his lust-filled eyes fell upon her; whatever he had been expecting, she obviously exceeded that expectation a hundredfold. Eyeing her with a lascivious intent he turned to Peter.
"If her provenance is as you say, and she performs well, perhaps we can come to some agreement. Your terms are somewhat unusual to say the least."
Peter shot a warning glance at Olivia. She was very obviously to remain silent. She was well bred and came from the highest stratum of the English upper classes, he told the Prince. In fact it could be said that she was the proverbial English rose, a flower that would be sure to blossom in the harem of the King and before he had even sampled her, he was sure that the Prince could judge that much for himself. Her value plus that of the other twelve slaves far exceeded the consideration that he was negotiating, but as he had already explained it was imperative that this batch of girls be disposed of immediately. That was why he had offered them to the Prince directly without requiring him to bid for them at auction as he had done previously with other girls.
Those comments produced an immediate interjection from David.
"You can't do that! The slaves are our means of obtaining fuel for Aztor's ships. They must be sold for the highest price we can get, that is Aztor's direct order."
Peter regarded him with cold fury.
"I can do anything I want. And I've already told you that we now have enough gold, so just keep your mouth shut and remember who's in charge here."
With that he returned his attention to the man, who was his state's Ambassador to Great Britain and a middle-ranking prince in the royal hierarchy. Aside from dealing with diplomatic and trade matters, in a more clandestine role he was required by his ruler to locate and ship back to his own country a steady supply of English girls to satisfy the King's huge appetite for fair-skinned nubile young Western women. Despite the obvious impression that Olivia had made upon him, he still found that he had to think about the proposal, telling Peter that it was something that required very careful evaluation.
Turning on his full powers of persuasion, Peter continued to cajole the Prince into accepting his proposition. Olivia was one of his and The Children's most magnificent products, he said and had been trained in every nuance of sexual submission and the ways of pleasing a Master. Her entire being was dedicated to that end and the Prince could take it from him that whatever he had experienced before, he would never have experienced anything like her.
As his final word died on his lips, Peter suddenly leapt towards her and grabbing her long blonde hair, he pulled her head backwards and planting his lips on hers, kissed her long and sensuously. Olivia could not help herself, almost melting away beneath his assault, she folded into his arms and wrapped her body as tightly around him as the wrist restraints clipped to her collar would allow.
In an instant he threw her away twisting her towards the man.
"You see. She can't help herself. Feel her breasts. Taste her sex. Do anything! She's yours."
There was a pause.
"But how does she take to the cane?"
"Like a camel to the desert. Test her for yourself."
Handing the dog lead to the be-robed Arab, Peter turned to David and waved a dismissal. Only David did not move, he had a very personal interest in Olivia, he wanted to witness at first hand her performance and he was not about to be sent away. Unseen by his prospective customer, Peter's eyes flashed with anger but there was nothing that he could do without causing a scene and so David stayed.
Still seated on the couch, the prince pulled Olivia close and widened her legs. Slipping his hand between her thighs, he thrust his fingers through the open crotch of the teddy and plunged them deep into her sex. Although she squirmed with discomfort under his rough treatment she made no attempt to pull away and after probing deeply for several minutes he withdrew his fingers and ran them under his nose. The musky scent of her sex both pleased and aroused him, the growing bulge beneath his robes advertising that fact very plainly.
Pushing his legs out straight, he swept his djellaba aside revealing his rigid shaft and with her legs on either side of his, he pulled her down onto him, facing away from him, his iron cock battering itself straight into her vagina. He could not have been any further inside her and supporting her elbows with his palms, he set her to work, her heavy bottom smacking his thighs as she bounced up and down, her tight tunnel sliding from his bell-end to his scrotum with every plunge. Using every trick that David had taught her, she brought the prince to a grunting, gasping climax in no time at all. As he sank back into the sofa and she began to slide off his slackening weapon, she twisted her head to look at David. The barely noticeable smile that cracked his lips was all she needed; her spirits rose and her eyes shone at the knowledge that she had pleased her Master.
After that initial fuck, the prince tested her in every way. He beat her with the cane, whipped her and plugged her sex and her anus. His cock was plunged into her mouth after every act of intercourse and she sucked it clean eagerly and with expertise. Eventually he was sated, his lust extinguished and Olivia was handed back into David's charge. A thoroughly abused and dishevelled Olivia. The silky black teddy was in shreds, her stockings were full of holes and her make-up smudged. And she herself was full of sperm.
As for the prince, he was delighted. The girl was everything that Peter had promised and more; if she was representative of the other twelve then a deal could most certainly be done. With those disturbing words ringing in his ears, an otherwise very satisfied David led Olivia back to his quarters. That night she slept on the floor chained to his bed; it was time for her to come in from the cold.

Eight: December 28th

THE LODGE was becalmed in the doldrums of those few days between the end of the Christmas celebrations and the biggest night of the year, New Year's Eve. In a spare moment in between food, fun and fornication Duke spent a little time musing over his personal philosophy, particularly in respect to women. Just like his father before him, he had realised early in life that in the general scheme of things their only relevance was in their service to men; they had been placed on Earth to do man's bidding, to provide his pleasure and to produce his offspring. The real worth of an educated, sophisticated woman like Lolli was as truly superior breeding stock. It was true that she had helped him greatly in the pursuit of the terrorist Myerberg, but her greatest value to him had been to provide him with a son worthy to carry the DuPont name; a son who twenty five years in the future, would be a prized entrant into the ranks of The Brotherhood. Duke was absolutely certain that the only place for a woman was at the receiving end of a man's cane, in his bed or under his foot.
Such sentiments strangely enough placed the creed of The Brotherhood in very close proximity to the doctrine of The Children of Aztor. The crucial difference was that as long as they performed their tasks satisfactorily, despite their shortcomings, Duke and his colleagues treated women with consideration; when they were not being disciplined they were cosseted and cared for. The Children on the other hand, treated them abominably and cared very little for their welfare.
In a remarkably short space of time, Lolli had become firm friends with Rebecca, and as they were both unavailable for use, she had asked Duke's permission to take her and Rosa - her oldest friend at The Lodge and Madame Stalevsky's personal property - to the DuPont family home for a few days. In granting her request, Duke demonstrated the regard which a Brother was expected to hold for his slave's own personal feelings; as she was of little use to him for the moment and he did not require her presence, then she was free to do whatever made her happy. In any case he wanted to remain at The Lodge until further word was received from Montague and apart from that, he was looking forward to the session that he had booked with The Housegirl who had so originally presented him with Madame Stalevsky's Christmas present.
Not wishing to drive them himself, Duke summoned Montague's Bentley to transport them to their destination. He had no qualms or worries, because as was everything else involving The Brotherhood, nothing was quite as straightforward as it seemed. As the chauffeur held open the rear door of the car, the haughty figure of Madame Stalevsky came striding down the steps from the main entrance to the house and went straight to Lolli, whose face drained of blood.
"And what do you mean by asking my Rosa to leave The Lodge without asking me first?" she demanded as Lolli backed towards the car.
"Madame, I'm so sorry... I forgot..."
"Well I shall make you remember in future, young lady! I shall talk to your Master and the next time you are here, I shall have your hide for this impudence! Rosa will not be accompanying you, I have other plans for her, I am taking her to Armucci's. Now go!" She turned on her heel and marched back inside.
Lolli turned to Rebecca with a wry smile. "Oh well, that's me in for the thrashing of a lifetime. Come on, all the more reason to go and enjoy ourselves while we can."
"But... but Rosa!" Rebecca stuttered.
"You heard, she's not coming. So let's you and me at least get going." She took her friend by the arm and urged her towards the car, a little puzzled by how hard she seemed to be taking the news.
Somewhat disconsolately Rebecca settled herself beside Lolli, the chauffeur closing the door behind her. The girls waited as he got into the driver's seat and started the Bentley rolling down the long drive towards the Porter's lodge and the open road. At first they indulged in inconsequential small talk but it was not long however before Lolli's curiosity got the better of her. She could not help herself. She had to know. What had Rebecca thought to her husband's treatment of her?
Rebecca was a little reluctant at first and did not appear to wish to respond to Lolli's question. It was all right Lolli told her, she understood, she was proud of her husband. Duke was magnificent, the most wonderfully authoritative man she had ever encountered. If he ever used any other woman and that woman did not agree with her assessment, then she would have been grossly insulted.
Pressed for details, Rebecca began to relate exactly what Duke had subjected her to. As she expounded on the details and she began to lose herself in the memory, Lolli saw her eyelids close so that she could conjure up in her mind a much clearer vision of the events of that night. She had obviously relished Duke's treatment of her, because it all came flooding out. The way in which he had disciplined her. The savage thrashing with his leather belt, the punishment of her breasts, the number of times that he had fucked her during the night - and the wonderful taste of his sperm. But most of all, the manner in which he had opened up and used her most private of places; her anus.
As she described the way in which Duke had first molested her breasts, she tweaked the hard nuggets that were her nipples through the silkiness of her Versace blouse while the flat palm of her other hand slid sensuously down over her belly. Her skirt was a micro short Jean-Paul Gaultier creation in any case and she had no need to tug it upwards, her hand slid between her thighs and on to her sex with no barrier to halt its progress. She was wearing knickers, which was unusual for her, the silken gusset of which was soaked with self-induced love juices.
The material was wet and pliable, and her fingers did not waste time in trying to hook under the elasticated fabric, instead she just plunged straight through the thin strip covering her labia and buried both her fingers and the satin deep inside her vagina. She was completely oblivious to Lolli, who watched in growing arousal herself as Rebecca began to pleasure herself shamelessly. Low sighs of delight escaped her lips as her other hand left her breast and her long fingers began to circle the nub of her clitoris. With both hands now working on her sex, she began to squirm and wriggle in increasing arousal.
It was all too much for Lolli, her new friend was masturbating while wallowing in the remembrances of her own master's treatment of her. Rebecca began to grunt and moan, her thumb working her clitoris as her fingers delved into her sex. Her limbs stretched out and her muscles tightened, she was obviously heading for a spectacular climax. Well, not without her, Lolli decided. If her Master was going to be the catalyst for Rebecca's satisfaction then she was going to have the same satisfaction herself.
Rebecca opened her eyes for an instant and latching on to Lolli's obvious excitement, silently invited her to join her in her quest for fulfilment. But there was no way, unless so ordered by Duke that she would indulge in lesbian activities. Sometimes he liked to watch two or more girls writhing together, it provided a little light entertainment, but given a choice it was not to her liking at all. So she found herself compelled to satisfy herself. Her legs widened, her hand slipped over her curly pubic mound and her fingers found her clitoris. It needed no stimulation, already being erect and clear of its hood. And so, almost in tandem with Rebecca she began to masturbate, her labia slick with juices of her arousal and her mouth falling open to draw in huge breaths as her orgasm approached.
Lolli's thoughts began to centre on her own favourite recollections of her experiences with her Master, particularly those in Brittany. During an enforced break in their pursuit of the terrorist Myerberg, he had casually handed her over to two gravediggers, asking them for their opinions on her performance. They had tested her thoroughly, filling her mouth, her sex and her anus with their sperm. They had fucked her alone and together. She had masturbated herself in a display that Duke had ordered, and then done the same for them. They had been highly satisfied, which had pleased Duke, and in turn made her happy because she had not failed her master.
It was that experience that had finally confirmed Duke's Mastery over her and her subservience to him. She had been filled with a plethora of mixed emotions but two stood out above all of them. The first was the sense of pride she had felt when she realised that he thought so much of her that he was willing to share her with others. The other was a totally contrary feeling that she was so worthless that he was prepared to hand her around to all and sundry. It had been extremely confusing... and a giant turn on.
Her thoughts ran forwards to what had been the defining moment of her life. When, frustratingly for Duke, at the last minute he had been instructed by the hierarchy of The Brotherhood to allow Myerberg to escape with false information. But she and Duke had discovered the ancient and secret temple of The Brotherhood and it was there that Duke had re-created Adam's thrashing of Eve in the Garden of Eden, a ritual that every woman who is taken by a Brother as his own must undergo. After the ceremonial beating, which had been brutal in the extreme, Duke had led her down into the stone temple and treated her to the most wonderful sexual experience of her life, an act of intercourse intended to fertilise her and produce his son, the next generation of The Brotherhood.
The images were so strong that she could virtually feel the length and girth of his marvellous penis filling her vagina to capacity. Her fulfilment raced to fruition and she shuddered in the throes of a giant orgasm that saw her squealing with raw passion. Beside her Rebecca reached her peak at almost the same moment, her legs flailing out of control as surging waves of numbing shocks hit her sex and radiated out over her body. The girls' jerking figures slowly calmed down until finally still, they looked at each other and smiled in the knowledge that the pair of them had achieved spectacular orgasms that had both been fuelled by lascivious thoughts of the same Master.
Seconds later their idyll was shattered in the most explosive of events. The car careered from the road and came to an abrupt lurching halt, throwing both girls from their seats. Crowbars smashed through the toughened glass of the windows and gloved hands reached through to throw the rear doors open. As they were pulled from the car, the girls could hear the sounds of a desperate struggle as the chauffeur fought valiantly to stave off their attackers. It was all to no avail, they were hauled out onto a deserted country lane to find that their Bentley had been run off the road by two all-terrain Toyota Amazon Land Cruisers.
Lolli and Rebecca were each grabbed by men with muscles of steel and screaming and kicking were dragged to one of the vehicles. Their last view of the Bentley was of it disappearing from sight as the second Amazon, with its wheels spinning and smoke billowing from its tyres, pushed it into a deep drainage ditch that bordered the lane. After throwing the hysterical girls onto the rear seat of the car, the two men leapt in besides them and with his foot to the floor, the driver raced off, engine roaring and tyres squealing.
Despite her shock and fear, Lolli's thoughts touched on the fate of their chauffeur. Being privy to the secrets of The Brotherhood, she knew that he was much more than just a mere chauffeur. He was a specialist, a bodyguard extraordinaire who would not hesitate to kill if harm threatened his charges and not surprisingly, he was a Brother himself. No one but another Brother could be trusted with the safety of such a highly placed personage as Montague. And yet he had been overpowered by unknown men on a lonely road, completely unable to prevent the kidnap of Lolli and her companion. Men capable of such a deed had to be very special themselves.
And of course they were. James was an ex member of the Green Berets. In fact until his fateful encounter with Aztor and Peter he had been the living embodiment of the All-American hero, but with surprising ease he had been corrupted by their promise of far more than just a chestful of medals and the thanks of a grateful nation; much, much more. And David was no less a man than James. He was English and had an equally colourful past but he had been converted to the cause of Aztor solely by their words. His belief in the apocalypse and the subsequent ascension was absolute. Together they had been Peter's lieutenants - tough, unshakeable and unstoppable.
But now they each had their own differing agenda. James' was to share in the lucrative future promised him by Peter, while David's was exclusively bound up in furthering the sacred cause of Aztor. Or at least it had been until Peter and James' increasingly secretive behaviour had filled him with doubt and now besides everything else, at virtually a moment's notice an arrangement had been made to sell off Olivia and the current batch of slaves to a Middle Eastern potentate without them being presented for auction in the normal way. That action had been a defining moment for David, it had concentrated his thoughts and now that Olivia had proved herself to be in total thrall to him, he had come to a concrete decision and his plans did not exactly coincide with those of Peter, whatever happened she most definitely would not be joining the other girls in the King's harem. Something about Peter's behaviour smelled, and smelled badly, so earlier that morning he had dispatched the videotape together with the ransom demand to Olivia's father. The money was to be placed in a Swiss bank account and once its deposit had been confirmed then she would be released.
In the back of the kidnappers' car however, Lolli and Rebecca smelled anything but badly. The fragrances surrounding them were pulse quickening and prick rousing, a subtle melange of Chanel and Armani interwoven with the musky aroma of their vaginas. Having both achieved very recent and very satisfying orgasms, their pudenda were coated with sex juices to which James and David were not slow to respond.
Their orders had been specific; no molesting the girls, they were reserved for Aztor. But that was what Peter had said when they snatched the first of the temptresses from Battersea Park. He had wasted no time in fucking Melinda before handing her over to them and had then fucked her several more times on the journey to the Cathedral. And since then he had ordered her to be brought to his private apartments three or four times and without doubt on those occasions he had beaten and fucked her into exhaustion.
Lolli was struggling like a wildcat in James' iron grip but she was totally unable to break his hold on her, while Rebecca was screaming out again and again that they had made a big mistake in grabbing her and that they would soon be sorry for it.
"Go on, frighten me some more," David sneered, slapping his palm over her mouth to quiet her down. Overcoming Rebecca's ineffectual attempts to keep him at bay, David's other hand disappeared under her skirt and his fingers plunged into her still slippery slit.
"Bollocks to Peter, I don't care what his orders were, I'm going to fuck this bitch stupid."
Spurred on by David's actions, James ripped Lolli's flimsy dress from her body.
"Shit, why not? I'm gonna enjoy bringing this feisty piece of ass down a notch or two."
Struggle and fight as they did, the girls had no hope of preventing the two men from carrying out their evil threats. They were fucked in the car and then after they had met up with the other car, out in the open while the drivers looked on. Sat in one stationary vehicle smoking a cigarette, with his ever-present guard dog beside him, Louis watched the proceedings without a flicker of emotion. Ryan, who had been driving the vehicle that pushed Montague's Bentley into the ditch, walked around inspecting it for damage until he too began to watch the four bodies intertwining. The girls bucked and squirmed under the muscular bodies of the men, moaning and crying out as the inevitable tides of orgasm swept over them.
Stopping for a smoke and a rest themselves, and bearing in mind that the girls were supposed to have remained untouched until they were delivered to Aztor, David and James swore the easily corruptible duo of Ryan and Louis to secrecy before handing the girls over to them. The drivers took great delight in defiling them as well, continually swapping places as they raked the girls' vaginas and anuses with rampant shafts, which they then slid into the girls' mouths. Sucking and licking obediently, Lolli and Rebecca cleaned The Disciples' throbbing lengths before being ordered to get down to giving them serious blow-jobs, eventually swallowing the inevitable tides of sperm that surged up from their testicles as the men reached jerking orgasms. Then David and James took over once more. When they finally reached the manor, Lolli and Rebecca were both in a wretched state; fucked sore and frightened beyond measure.
The weak midwinter sun had already sunk below the level of the leafless hedgerows by the time the car pulled up outside the manor house. Both now completely naked, the terrified and humiliated girls were dragged out into the biting cold and pushed, stumbling and still struggling vainly, towards the outhouse from which Olivia had been freed but where Melinda still lay in chains. Throwing open the door, David and James hustled them inside and unhindered by the lack of light inside the building made short work of shackling and securing them.
In addition to the straw there were now a couple of old, ragged blankets lying on the floor and throwing them over the girls, the two men left them distraught and weeping while they disappeared back into the encroaching darkness. Peter had gone up to London in order to finalise the details of the handover of the slaves to the prince and was not expected back until around noon the following day, which left his lieutenants plenty of time in which to satisfy their non-sexual appetites and after they had eaten, perhaps to spend the whole night having more fun with the whores.
The girls soon discovered that they were not alone. A hesitant, plaintive voice called out to them from the other side of the room.
"Lolli... Rebecca... Is that you?"
Lolli recognised the voice immediately.
"Melinda! Oh my God, they've got you as well."
With her dark skin merging into the blackness, to the other girls Melinda was just a shadow over in the corner, but with her eyes more accustomed to the gloom she had been able to recognise them. Dissolving into tears, they commiserated with each other in mumbling, stuttered sentences, describing their individual abductions and sexual molestation.
"Why us? Why have they picked on us?"
Melinda answered Lolli's question by telling her that they were in the hands of a weird, sadistic religious sect who called themselves The Children of Aztor and their leader, a crazed maniac known as The Sacred Nazarene Peter. They were all devotees of this mythical space deity, Aztor and she had been told by Peter that three very special girls had to be procured for sacrifice to him. And now that Lolli and Rebecca had been kidnapped and brought to the manor to join her, it appeared that they were those girls.
"The man must be out of his mind. Who in God's name is this Aztor? And why does he want us? Do you know?"
Three more questions and this time Melinda had no answers.

Nine: December 29th

JAMES AND DAVID had found a few pressing problems awaiting their attention at the manor and so their return to the outhouse was not as quick as they had intended. In fact it was the following morning, after many freezing hours had passed, all of them taken up by the girls theorising on the reason for their violent seizure and present incarceration, the only thing that offered any explanation being that they were all Housegirls from The Lodge. But that made no sense, why would this Aztor want them for that reason? Unless it was for their particularly exclusive and renowned submissive sexuality. And if that were the case then it followed that he must have first hand knowledge of the establishment itself. So, who was he?
Their deliberations were brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of the two men.
"So, enjoying ourselves, are we girls? We could hear you gossiping a hundred yards away."
Those simple words from David revived the terror in their hearts.
"Well, we're here to see that you keep on having fun, so as it's Christmas we're taking you to a party. Two of you anyway."
Melinda could not go to the ball, David said, because she had already had more than her fair share of festive frolics at Peter's hands and it was time for the others to catch up. And it was no use her hoping for a fairy Godmother to come to her aid, because unlike Cinderella she was on her own, except of course for the rats. Demon-eyed, wild and to Melinda's eyes at least, ravenous, the rats had scuttled around the hovel in the darkness all the time that she had been held there. She was terrified of them and their mere mention brought a gasp of horror rushing from her lips. Hustling Lolli and Rebecca through the door and out into the frosty morning air, the men left Melinda on her own, her mind now no doubt whirling with pictures of hungry rodents crawling over her naked body. She would be suffering her own mental torments all the while the other two girls were being subjected to a more physical torture.
In truth, Melinda had not been left out for the reason that David had given, he would dearly have loved to include her in the session that he had planned with James but unfortunately her striped and bruised body had healed considerably since her arrival. It was true that Peter had used her continually but he had restrained himself and only used her for sex, for the simple reason that she had to be unmarked when she was given to Aztor. Therefore if she were found to have fresh marks on her body when he returned he would know that they, or someone else had made use of her during his absence. On the other hand both Lolli and Rebecca were heavily marked with recently acquired weals and bruises and Peter would have no way of telling that more had been added since their capture.
It was quite remarkable that David was now prepared to act in defiance of Peter's orders and make personal use of the girls. Until only a few days before his word had been law, which was the reason that David had railed against James when he threatened to use Melinda in direct contradiction of Peter's instructions. Now he ordered The Twelve Disciples and their charges from the pit of pain and told them not to return until given the all clear by himself or James. He wanted no witnesses who would be able to report their activities to Peter upon his return.
As they were unceremoniously hustled into its confines, it was Lolli and Rebecca's first view of that horrific chamber and the impression it made upon them was no less dramatic than the one it had made on Olivia and Melinda. Lolli clapped a hand to her lips to stifle a terrified scream but Rebecca had no such inhibitions.
"Stop this madness right now you fools! You'd better let me go or it will be all the worse for you. I've told you before I am not..."
That was as far as she got, her screaming tirade coming to an abrupt end as James slapped her face, at the same time telling her to keep her mouth shut. And to make sure that it stayed that way, he was going to gag her. With one hand clamped firmly over her mouth, he crooked the middle finger of his other hand into one of the huge gold rings that pierced her nipples and used it to drag her across to a bench on which had been laid out a variety of wicked looking whips, clamps, skewers and other implements.
Delving into the middle of the terrifying collection, he pulled out a solid rubber ball about the size of a small orange with leather straps attached to two of its opposing surfaces. Removing his hand from her mouth he stifled the words that immediately began to tumble out and stuffed the ball between her lips. Looping the leather straps around her neck he buckled them tightly at the base of her skull, so fixing the rubber ball firmly between her wide-open jaws. There would be no further unwelcome comments from her.
The sight of the torturous instruments and of James' treatment of Rebecca brought about a sudden overwhelming reversal in Lolli's attitude to the situation in which she found herself. Instead of the mental anguish, which they had been intended to produce, her mind filled with a mixture of confusing emotions. She was well used to punishment and pain and still enjoyed to the utmost her disciplining at the hands of Duke and the few chosen members of The Lodge whom he allowed to use her, but a little of the excitement had faded because she knew that however badly they treated her, in the end she would be always be safe and no lasting harm would come to her.
This however was different. It was deeply, darkly dangerous and exciting. Although he had taken her repeatedly after her capture, David was still an unknown quantity, she had no idea what he had in mind for her or to what lengths he would go and the contents of the chamber certainly gave him plenty of scope to do anything he wished.
Her body began to tingle with anticipation, her face flushed, her nipples stiffened and her pulse raced. She began to feel the same way as she had done on the night of her very first real introduction to BDSM, full of both fear and longing. That had been at the public school that both she and Duke had attended, on the very last night before her departure. The man who opened up her future had been The Headmaster, who also happened to be a member of The Brotherhood and who had subsequently introduced her to The Lodge. From that day until he and Montague decided that she should become Duke's wife and the mother of his child she had remained in thrall to him. And somehow in these weird and awful circumstances, David seemed to be offering that same opportunity, the chance to experience something different, something new and deliciously wicked.
And so began Lolli's voyage into the unknown, all of her attention was now concentrated on David. Everything else faded into a sort of hazy blur and she was only vaguely aware of James chaining Rebecca into the apparatus that had previously held Olivia during her ordeal with Ryan. David seemed to sense the change that had come over her and releasing her from his iron grasp, he ordered her to lie flat on her stomach and wriggle over to the centre of the chamber, where Olivia had been told to wait and where he had made his own individual preparations. There was no protest, she obeyed at once, even wriggling over the hobnail tacks that he spread over the flagstones in her path without making so much as a murmur.
Olivia's instructions had been to watch her Master at work, to assist him if it proved necessary - and to keep quiet. Standing over Lolli, he shrugged off his cassock and handed it to Olivia, revealing his hard muscled body, which as usual with The Disciples was oiled and shiny in the uncertain light of the torches. A broad black leather belt encircled his waist, metal-studded leather straps being attached to it at the back and pulled tight over his shoulders and between his thighs to link into a large metal ring that circled his navel and served as a buckle for the belt. Steel chains hung in loops from the straps and the ever-present studded leather bands were wound around his bulging biceps, his penis and testicles which hung heavily between his legs.
Alternating spears of horror, fright and anticipation plunged into Lolli's heart as reaching down, he hauled her to her feet and as she stood there with many of the sharply pointed tacks stuck into her flesh, he eyed her critically. And he was obviously greatly impressed by what he saw. She was without doubt a magnificent woman, tall and willowy with full, heavy breasts that boasted bullet nipples and broad nutmeg areolae. Her legs were long and lithe, and at the top of her thighs nestled a succulent, inviting vagina surrounded by a forest of dark, curly pubes. Stretching out his arms he ran his palms appreciatively over her breasts, down her flat stomach and over the silky flesh of her thighs, making no attempt to remove the tacks that now and again interrupted the smooth flow of his hands over her meat.
Slipping his hands around her bottom he savoured the feel of her wonderfully supple and perfectly proportioned buttocks, and then leaving one hand clamped to her backside he pulled her close and slipped the other between her thighs. Lolli could not help herself, shivering at the thrill of his touch as his fingers pushed up into her vagina.
Pulling out his fingers he lifted them to his nostrils and sniffed the unique fragrance of her sex, musky and delicately scented at the same time, his prick twitching in an involuntary reaction to the stimulus of that bewitching aroma. Then in an action that seemed to her far more evil than anything he had done so far, he took her head in his hands and with his unfathomably emotionless eyes looking straight into hers he began to deliberately and slowly stroke her cascading auburn hair.
Suddenly she felt threatened, a surge of fright sweeping over her as she realised just how far she had allowed herself to fall under his spell. This man was a sadistic pervert, a hateful beast she told herself but as he let go of her head and once more fondled her breasts, she was unable to deny the thrill that transmitted itself to her every nerve ending. Her determination to resist was slowly melting away. There was no doubt, she was definitely in trouble.
However, as perverted as he intended to be in dealing with her, apart from his now indecently limited time, David did have another problem of a different nature. Dandy had been more than enthusiastic in his use of Lolli and not only had he left her heavily bruised but there was hardly an inch of her flesh that was not striated with raised tramline ridges or livid weals from his use of the cane and the whip. Further flagellation or beating was obviously out of the question; she would not be aroused by that as the pain would most probably blot out any other feelings that would normally accompany such treatment. In order to loosen her up and get the adrenaline running, he would have to use other methods. But he was a man who possessed disciplinary skills in abundance and so was not short of ideas on that score.
His greatest hindrance now however, and James' also, was still the lack of time in which to give her anything more than a cursory taste of his inventive abilities. This could be no long, drawn out session because Peter had ordered that the three sacrificial subjects should be cleansed and suitably attired ready for his inspection upon his return to the manor. And that return was expected very shortly.
So David could do little more than give her a thorough shagging and attempt to stoke up her fear. Her introduction to the horrific chamber and his frightening image had succeeded in achieving the psychological effects that he had intended. It had also achieved something else - an intense re-kindling of Lolli's submissive masochistic lusts, she could not wait for him to begin. She longed for him to bind her into immobility, to feel the sting of his whip upon her flesh and the bite of his cane on her buttocks. The awful conditions in the dungeon; the shadowy flames of the torches, the heat of the glowing braziers and even the stench of sweat left behind by The Disciples only added to her anticipation. The thought of being abused and defiled in conditions such as those was repugnant, but that very repugnance shot an overwhelming tingle of anticipation and expectation coursing through her veins.
If David had known to what a great extent he had stoked up Lolli's emotions, perhaps he would have thrown caution to the wind and really gone for the grand treatment. But he did not and for him time was of the essence. His only reason for the presence of Olivia was to instil even more deeply into her the fact that she was now his slave and that she must be ready to accept any action that he deigned to take. If he wished to discipline and fuck another woman in her presence, then so be it. If she had been properly and successfully trained then it would even be thrilling to her, to know that she would still lust for his cock and his whip after he had done such a thing was the ultimate proof of a slave's devotion to her master.
An ancient iron-bound chest stood against one wall and delving into it David brought out a pair of hard steel handcuffs and clamped them around Lolli's wrists. A large hook was fastened to a thick white rope hanging from the ceiling, with the rope running through a pulley and being tied off to a fixing point on the wall. Loosening the rope, he lowered the hook and positioning her beneath it looped the handcuffs over it and then hauled it back upwards. Her linked hands were pulled above her head, her arm and shoulder muscles tightening as she was gradually lifted up onto her tiptoes. When her body was tautly stretched he re-tied the rope to its anchor.
Then, very slowly and very deliberately he began to deliver a succession of open-palmed, blistering slaps up and down her already abused body, making her wail out loud. Her bruised flesh was so tender than even a light touch was extremely painful so the impact of his blows caused her unbearable agony. Her breasts were beaten soundly, first one then the other rippled under the assault. Flinching and twisting her body as best she could under the tight bondage in which she was held, tears trickled from her eyes as each full-palmed blow landed.
Walking around her, David moved on to her backside, feeling her flesh firm and resisting as the blows smacked down. She was prime stock, good and solid but still the imprints of his palms flashed redly over the dark bruises already decorating her buttocks. He continued down the backs of her legs, which marked up just as spectacularly as the rest of her body. Peering once again into the chest, he ordered Olivia to pass him a three-foot-long steel spacer bar that had ankle cuffs attached to each end and after clamping them to both of Lolli's ankles, the bar ensured that her legs would remain wide apart.
The insides of her thighs were now clearly visible, revealing what had not been apparent before, that for some reason Dandy had not punished that remarkably tender flesh. They were still milky white, inviting attention from the cane or the whip and within Lolli the excitement rose as she imagined the sting of their bite. He stood drinking in the sight of both them and her fully exposed sex and then, after what was for her a heart stopping deliberation, he delivered a cruel backhanded slap to her sex, her outer labia flattening under the impact and his knuckles digging into her slightly open slit. As she writhed uncontrollably in reaction to the agony, her wetness glistened on the back of his hand; she was ready, he had got her juicing up in no time at all.
Lolli's mind was a whirling ferment of confusion and lust. She wanted David. She wanted his whip. And she wanted his cock, which was now fully erect, an iron hard battering ram that she could almost feel slamming into her leching, welcoming hole.
"Fuck me!"
Her shouted words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. But she was not sorry and as David stood there impassive and unmoving, she begged again.
"Do it please. I need you. I need your great big wonderful cock stuck inside me. Fuck me or I'll go crazy."
That was exactly the reaction that he had been aiming for and so she was not going to get it, or the whip, not just yet anyway. He did not have a great deal of time but he had enough to ensure the flames of her passion were stoked even higher before he satisfied his own desires and plunged his length deep into her.
"Have you noticed something?"
James took a short leave from his own efforts with Rebecca to pose the question.
"What?"
"These special girls are always begging to be fucked. Do you reckon that could be why Aztor wants them so much?"
David treated that remark with the contempt that he thought it deserved.
"Just get on with it will you, we're in a hurry and I've got no time to bother myself with riddles of that kind."
Lolli herself would have welcomed distractions of any kind, anything that would turn her thoughts away from her overwhelming need for David to satisfy her. She had not felt such an all-encompassing greed for fulfilment since long before her first real sexual encounter. As a schoolgirl she had fantasised long and often, envisaging The Headmaster taking her virginity while at the same time he punished her for some deliberate transgression of the college's strict rules of conduct.
Her dream in that direction had come true and now that same need was drowning her in a tide of passion so deep and breathtaking that nothing but David's rampant, magnificent cock reaming her lubricating, wide open vagina could satisfy her desire. Those all-enveloping feelings transmitted themselves very clearly to him, only serving to increase his determination to torture her further.
There was not enough time for him to consider using her mouth and so following James' example with Rebecca he gagged her in order to stem the flow of pleas for fulfilment that were erupting unchecked from her lips. But the gag he used imitated the action that he was trying so desperately hard to suppress. It was a rubber penis gag and the imitation cock was thrust so deep into her throat that she almost choked as the buckles holding it in place were tightened and fastened.
And that was not the only use he found for a replica penis. Taking up a giant ridged and knobble-headed dildo he directed his attention to her anus and lodging it in the pucker of her most private orifice he thrust it upwards. But although her vagina was more than ready to admit anything that he wished to introduce into it, her bottom most definitely was not. The bulbous glans managed only a minuscule penetration and no matter how desperately she tried Lolli was unable to aid its entry. In total frustration and without thinking she struggled to pull her arms down in a fruitless attempt to grasp her buttocks and widen her anus herself.
Never a man to give up easily, David eventually succeeded in burying the dildo deep into her, his final thrust eliciting a strangled scream from her blocked mouth. The pain however had not dampened her lust, she was still craving for his cock, a tingling thrill transmitting itself straight to her sex as the tip of his penis brushed against her bottom and she felt the stickiness of his pre-ejaculate fluid trickling over her flesh. He was as primed as she was. She was ecstatic, surely he would fuck her now.
But he did not. And as he retreated from her with his fist clamped around his shaft, she knew that now there was no chance that he would. With a woman as wildly rampant as she was at that moment, the ultimate torture would be to deny her what she most desired. He knew that and played upon her distress, making a great show of stroking his balls and masturbating his penis, every now and then squeezing open his meatus to allow more of his fluids to leak out.
Lolli was beside herself, weeping with frustration as she realised that this man was on a par with the most accomplished practitioners of the sadistic arts, a man who had challenged her devotion to Duke and for a moment had won. She would never be able to live with herself again, she was a worthless failure, a disgrace to the women of The Brotherhood. But she still wanted him!
In a seemingly determined effort to distress her even further he turned away and leapt upon Olivia, pushing her backwards over the chest and ramming his cock straight up into her. His backside heaved as he pumped up and down, Olivia groaning in both pain and pleasure as he brutally used her. Lolli looked on with unbridled envy, wishing that his stiff weapon were reaming her and not the unknown girl. Suddenly he pulled out and throwing Olivia to one side like a rag doll, he turned once again to Lolli. Clasping his cock, the rhythm of his fist grew stronger as he approached his climax and moving close to her with his penis between her open thighs, at the moment of his orgasm he shot hot, thick spurts of sperm all over her labia and curly pubes. She could feel it splattering on her wanton sex and she gave full vent to her lust, climaxing in a noisy, grunting but stifled orgasm. All on her own, with no fingers, no cock or any actual physical contact with her rampant vagina. David was good, but not good enough to deny her the fulfilment that she had been determined to achieve.
Somehow that moment of victory filled Lolli with a renewed determination, a sense of superiority because Duke would never have allowed her to behave in such an outrageous manner. Her master was of The Brotherhood and she was his slave. Despite her desperate circumstances her heart filled with hope and pride, whoever her captors were, The Brotherhood would smash them and rescue her. Of that she had no doubt.
Time was now definitely running out and so although James was in the final jerking moments of fucking Rebecca, David urged him to hurry up and get it over with.
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?"
There was no answer to that and so David remained silent while he released Lolli from her bondage. Loosening the rope, he allowed her to plant her feet firmly on the floor, then he removed the dildo, handcuffs and the spacer bar, ordering Olivia to pack them back into the trunk. Similarly, James freed Rebecca and she and Lolli were stood side by side; naked, sperm soaked and frightened.
"Right, we'll have to make this quick, There's no telling exactly when he'll be back."
David was of course referring to Peter and he was right. Realising that they needed assistance, he firstly dismissed Olivia and then, enlisting Ryan's help, had him bring Melinda from the hovel into the pit before hosing all three of the special girls down with ice cold water. Shivering, but now suitably cleaned up, they were then lined up and fettered. Connected by chains, leg irons were locked around their ankles, linked metal collars were fastened round their necks and lastly Melinda was gagged to complete a trio of mute slaves.
They completed their preparations only seconds before the heavy door to the chamber was pushed open and preceded by his snarling dog, Louis led Peter into the presence of the girls and their abductors. A lascivious grin cracked Peter's features as his gaze fell upon Melinda, followed by an even greater show of evil intent as he turned his attention to Lolli - but then as his eyes swept over to Rebecca a total change come over him. His eyes bulged and his face reddened with rage, several seconds passing before he was able to pull himself together and speak. Then his outburst was a violent, almost incoherent questioning yell.
"Where the hell is the other one?"

Ten: December 30th

AS A VERY special treat, Madame Stalevsky had told Rosa that on the day that it re-opened after the Christmas holidays, she was going to take her to a famous and exclusive fashion house in Knightsbridge where she would be able to take her pick of any, or even every one, of the fabulous creations on offer.
Despite her initial disappointment at missing out on a visit to the Dupont estate, Rosa was as excited as a young schoolgirl about to be presented with her first bra and was fairly bursting with anticipation. As Madame Stalevsky's own private property, she was reserved almost exclusively for her own use, only occasionally being given to very selected members of The Lodge, but that presented her with no problems because she held an intense and unshakeable devotion for her Mistress. A devotion that was worthy of reward.
Thrilled by Madame Stalevsky's benevolence, Rosa had hardly been able to contain herself. Even though she had only had to wait for one day, for her it seemed as if tomorrow would never come. But at last it had. There were problems however, not the least of them being her Mistress' perhaps over zealous concern regarding her safety. Bearing in mind her kidnapping and subsequent horrific abasement by the half-Arabic Aslan Myerberg, no chances were being taken and they were accompanied on the trip by Madame Stalevsky's stalwart henchmen, Yuri and Ivan.
However the security of The Lodge was of paramount importance and so they were not able to leave until the Russian twins had satisfied themselves that all was well and the building and its guests would be adequately protected while they were away. So it was past noon when the car pulled up outside the store and Madame Stalevsky was more than gratified to note its own very visible security staff guarding the entrance and the exit, plus a couple more patrolling the frontage of both that and the adjoining buildings. Sharp suited, tall and muscular, they were all dressed in the designer's own fabulously expensive suits, every item of their clothing matching the colour of their skins: Black!
Although it was parked in a restricted area, the Rolls Royce would not be bothered by the attention of the police or traffic wardens, Madame Stalevsky knew that, and so the car was left where it stood as she led Rosa into the establishment while Yuri and Ivan remained outside to reinforce the already potent security.
Once inside, Madame Stalevsky was pleased to see that there were more security staff in the store itself, a very discreet presence but nonetheless there, and so she allowed Rosa free rein, watching amusedly as she scampered from one beautiful ensemble to the next. There was no hurry, everything was in order back at The Lodge and so Madame Stalevsky stood patiently by as Rosa trooped again and again into the fitting rooms, trying on an endless succession of extravagantly expensive and beautiful garments.
Eventually however, when after a seemingly endless length of time she had not presented herself for a verdict on her latest choice, with her patience wearing thin Madame Stalevsky pushed open the swinging ranch-style doors and went in search of her property. But she was not there and in increasing alarm Madame Stalevsky searched every delicately scented dressing room. Finding them all empty she summoned the personal assistant who had been assigned to Rosa. She had only one question: where was her charge?
"But Madame, she has gone. Your own security officers asked that she be allowed to leave by the rear entrance to avoid the attention of the paparazzi."
In near total panic, Madame Stalevsky rushed from the store to find Yuri and Ivan still stationed outside the doors.
"Where is she? Where is Rosa?"
The words were met with blank looks. As far as they had been aware, she was still inside with her Mistress. Racing into the store, they confronted the personal assistant, Madame demanding descriptions of the men who had left with Rosa. There had been two of them they were told, one American and one English, both tall and muscular. The American had sported a bushy beard and bizarrely, on such a cold winter's day, the Englishman had been wearing open-toed sandals.


Following Peter's return to the manor the previous day and the presentation to him by James and David of Aztor's three special girls, in a rage, he had ordered that Lolli together with Melinda be consigned to the squalid confines of a secret dungeon that lay beneath the floor of the pit. It was a genuine medieval oubliette, the only access being via a heavy iron trapdoor hidden in the shadows that took the combined strength of James and David to open. And there they now lay, the iron collars around their necks chained to metal hoops in the wall.
Rebecca however, had met a different fate and was now suffering awful torments at Peter's hands within the tapestry-hung walls of his private apartments. When Lolli and Melinda had been consigned to the horrors of the oubliette, Peter had handed her over to Ryan with instructions that she be cleaned up, made more presentable and dressed in a manner that he would find pleasing. She was to be returned to him the following morning but for the time being he was not to be disturbed as he had serious matters to sort out with James and David. The Disciple was also given a warning that while she was in his charge he must not under any circumstances defile her himself, which considering that he had already fucked her several times on the way back to the manor was probably the reason that for a fleeting moment a sardonic smile passed over his face.
Ryan had rescued both hers and Lolli's suitcases from the wreck of Montague's Bentley and so Rebecca had possessed the wherewithal to carry out Peter's instructions. This she had done and she now stood before him, expertly made up and looking every inch The Housegirl that Montague had so strongly praised and recommended to Duke. Her dark, shaggy hair framed the fine features of her face, her delicately blushed cheeks, painted lips and shadowed eyes only serving to enhance her natural beauty.
Similarly, the now purple bruises left on her breastflesh by Duke were somehow complemented by the cupless lilac basque that was hooked tightly beneath them. It was decorated with fine black lace of a pattern that was repeated in the broad lace bands of her stocking tops. The unfettered mounds of her breasts jutted proud and firm, her areolae rouged the same subtle shade of pink as her lips, creating a pleasing backdrop to the thick rose gold rings that pierced her nipples. Her fingernails were varnished in a shade that matched exactly the colour of the basque and on her feet she wore the embroidered stiletto-heeled satin shoes that Montague had gifted her with.
But however beautiful and sexually alluring she looked, it was obviously having little effect in calming Peter's continuing rage, as standing in the middle of the room, a trickle of tears was beginning to run from her eyes as he berated her, both verbally and physically. Protestations of innocence were flowing from her mouth as Peter berated her.
"Enough! I've heard enough. You were given a simple task and you failed! You're a whore and a liar, just like all the rest."
She tried again to reason with him but he was having none of it.
"For the last time, I've heard enough of your pathetic nonsense, so shut up. Don't even try to speak to me again until I give the OK."
And to make sure that she would now be silent, he walked over to the bed on which he had laid out several items that he had intended for possible use on her. The possibility of their use had now become a certainty and picking up a ball gag he pushed the hard rubber between her lips and buckled the two leather straps extremely tightly, one at the back of her neck and the other a little higher at the base of her skull. The ball pressed against her teeth and the straps bit into her cheeks, she would not irritate him with her inane babblings again, he had made sure of that.
However there was absolutely no point in missing out on a good thing. Because of an order which she had failed to carry out, his lieutenants had seized the wrong girl - her! And there was nothing that he could do about that now, so although her presence at the manor had not been intended, it was a fact that she was there, available and enticing. And what better way to occupy his time as he waited for the correct girl to be delivered to him, than to once and for all make sure that she understood the meaning of obedience; and while he was at it to give her a damn good fucking.
Ordering her to remain where she was, he walked over to a rack fixed to the wall. Picking through a selection of wicked looking rattan canes, he slashed them one after another through the air, several times actually striking the top of the back of the large button-studded chesterfield couch, the canes cutting noticeable grooves into the rolled-over curve of the leather. The demonstration was not lost on Rebecca, her eyes blinking uncontrollably as each strike landed. Peter stood silent as her eyes remained fixed to the leather, watching as the grooves slowly flattened out and the surface became smooth once more. That was what would happen with her tender flesh, she knew that and the look that settled on her face was a mystery to him, ambiguous in the extreme, it was either great fear or great expectation.
Rebecca was equally as striped and marked as Lolli, but whereas David had felt at the very least a tinge of compassion for her situation, Peter showed no such consideration. Apart from anything else, the emotions raised by his rage had transferred themselves to his manhood, which now pulsed visibly against the cloth of his cassock. His cock was stretched to its ultimate length and was so hard and stiff that it was causing him actual discomfort. He now had an urgent need for a shag, if for no other reason than to slacken his raging weapon and ripping his robe open he allowed it to spring free.
Throwing the cane to the floor, he rushed back to her and cupping a palm beneath each of her buttocks, he lifted her from the ground. Throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she held on as he carried her over to the couch and dumped her backside onto its edge. He then lifted both her feet up onto the couch and after splaying her legs wide he once more slid his palms under her buttocks. With no further preliminaries he pulled her close and rammed his rampant shaft straight into her unprepared hole. Her vagina was not yet lubricated and resisted his entry but battering against her, firstly he gained a limited penetration and then once his bell-end was fully sunk into her dry tunnel, in half a dozen bulldozing thrusts he was in up to the hilt and grunting in a violent, explosive orgasm.
But the violence and bestiality of his attack triggered an equally powerful reaction from Rebecca, to be taken in such an abrupt, callous way proved an undeniable turn-on, prickling waves of need turning her limbs to jelly. As his hot sperm jetted into her womb her own passions erupted, copious volumes of her own juices flooding her tunnel to mix with his. Muffled grunts and screams of arousal attempted to battle their way past the ball gag, soon turning into stifled moans of frustration as she felt his weapon slacken within her. Calling on all her resources and bringing the expertise she had learned from Madame Stalevsky into action, she clamped her vaginal muscles around his shaft in an effort to imprison it within her.
That was a mistake. The pressure on his penis fully alerted Peter to her lustful desires and he pulled out of her with same abruptness with which he had forced his entry.
"No!" he roared. "No gutter crawling slut is going to use me for her own satisfaction."
Rebecca was wild with frustration and pulling herself upwards she shot both her hands between her thighs, plunging the fingers of one up into her hole and using the other thumb to attack her prominent unhooded clitoris. But Peter was quicker than she was, wrenching her hands away before she was able to climax. She was not done however and rubbing her thighs together she attempted to satisfy herself in that way. Peter's immediate reaction was to clasp both her wrists in one strong hand and to push her thighs apart with the other.
"Don't you listen to anything I say? Stop, right now or you'll be sorrier than you ever thought possible."
Weeping tears of absolute misery, she fell back onto the couch, her limbs trembling and her vagina still throbbing and begging for attention as he angrily lectured her. He had thought that she had been trained properly, he told her; he thought that she knew how to behave in such situations, hadn't she been taught that a slave had to keep her own emotions in check? And didn't she know that her Master's will was paramount, his instructions to be obeyed whatever the difficulties or consequences? Answering his own question, he concluded that she did not. If everything was going as planned it would still be several hours at least before James and David returned with the third girl and he was going to put that time to good use, she still had to be taught to obey his commands without question or failure.
That was his threat and that was his deed. Taking the whippiest of the canes in his strong right hand he ordered her to bend over. And from then until he judged that the time was almost upon them when his lieutenants would arrive, the room echoed to the swish and smack of rattan on flesh and Rebecca's muffled howls. When finally he called for Ryan and had a thoroughly chastened, beaten and fucked Rebecca taken from his sight. He told him he had full permission to use her in any way he wished; nothing was barred, he could undertake and enjoy any sadistic act he could think of.

***

The situation in New York had progressed from frustrating to disastrous. Montague had spent a joyless Christmas awaiting the opportunity to interrogate Aztor and then the astounding and infuriating news had come through that despite the incredible security precautions that had been taken, he had escaped from custody. During his transfer from the Pennsylvania State Penitentiary to the most secure location the US authorities could find, the convoy had been ambushed and hit by an all-out assault. The vehicle carrying Aztor had been sliced open by an immensely powerful portable laser and he had made his getaway.
Montague immediately decided that as his quarry had disappeared without trace, there was no point in wasting any more of his time in the States. Putting a call through to Duke at The Lodge he apprised him of the situation, advising him to expect his imminent arrival, adding that he would again be using Mr. Luther's private jet so there would be no delay and he would arrive back very early the next morning.
He also told Duke that he was feeling extremely tense and unsettled and asked him to arrange for Melinda to be collected from the hotel in London and returned to The Lodge so that she would be available for his immediate use the moment that he arrived. In situations such as the one in which he now found himself, she had frequently proved to be a very useful safety valve and he would work out all his frustrations on her. As he had already commandeered his father's Bentley to ferry Lolli and Rebecca to his home and instructed the chauffeur to stay with them until their return, that presented Duke with a slight problem. With the driver guarding his wife and her companion and Madame Stalevsky having taken both Yuri and Ivan to London, there was no one in whom he had enough faith to return Melinda safely. So, there was no alternative, he would have to do it himself.
After looking up the number of the hotel, he put through a call, asking to be connected to Melinda. There was no reply from her suite he was told and was asked by the receptionist to hold on while she made further enquiries. He sat tapping his fingers impatiently for several minutes until another voice came on the line, a voice that identified itself as being that of Evans, the hotel's chief of security. With so many international officials of state and high profile celebrities using the establishment the security was tight and Duke was subjected to some very heavy duty questioning, before finally his proof of identity was accepted and Evans gave him some extremely disturbing news. It seemed that Melinda had not been in her rooms for several days and the last time anyone remembered seeing her was on the morning of Christmas Day. The staff had not thought it out of the ordinary as suites were often reserved for weeks on end, with the guests only occasionally returning to use them.
Duke was extremely concerned for Melinda's safety. She knew no one in the Capital and most certainly would not have gone off elsewhere without leaving the exact details for Montague. He told Evans of his anxieties, asking him to personally contact the hospitals, police and emergency services to see if they had any information on her. Evans was to get back to him the moment that he had done so and in the meantime Duke would start making enquiries of his own.
No sooner had he put the phone down than it rang and picking it up urgently he received the first of two calls that turned his previously pleasant and jolly Christmas into a nightmare. It was from the Commissioner of Police and informed him that his father's car had been ambushed, his chauffeur had been attacked and the two girls he was transporting had been kidnapped. As both a personal and professional associate of the DuPonts, the details had been passed to him and no information on the event had been publicly released. The chauffeur was in a bad way but was now able to speak and was lying under guard in an intensive care unit at a Sussex hospital.
Duke's mind was in turmoil; Lolli kidnapped! But he had no time to think about it because the telephone instantly rang again. This time it was an almost incoherent Madame Stalevsky telling him that Rosa had been spirited away by two men at the Knightsbridge store and was nowhere to be found. A lesser man would have been overwhelmed but taking a firm grip on himself, he calmed his raging senses and tried to take stock of the situation. Three of The Lodge's Housegirls, including his wife had been abducted and his father's favourite slave had disappeared. What in Heaven's name was going on? Whatever it was, the vengeance of The Brotherhood would be terrible.

***

Meanwhile, at the manor, Peter had received a call from David and James that left him seething anew with rage and frustration. Instead of using the back roads, they had decided to speed up their return by using a stretch of the M3 motorway and had run into an immense tailback of cars and lorries. From the radio they had learned that there had been an horrific pile up, which had completely blocked the motorway on both sides, it was not expected to clear for five or six hours. They were trapped and could do nothing but sit and wait.
That news now meant that they would not get back until after midnight, leaving Peter with hours of idle time to while away. He was too agitated to go about any of his normal business but there was one way in which he could profitably use that time. Melinda he had already used and Rosa he intended to defile upon her delivery to him, but Lolli as yet he had not sampled. And this was an ideal opportunity.
He guessed that Ryan would be busy with Rebecca and there was no point in upsetting him by dragging him away from what was probably a very inventive session, so he summoned Louis. As with Rebecca, Lolli was to be given her clothes and ordered to dress herself suitably for an 'audience' with The Sacred Nazarene Peter. It took a good while as not only had she to be released from the oubliette but she also had to be allowed to clean herself up and make herself alluring, something that once she learned what lay in store for her, she had refused to do. It was only after threatening to set the ferocious guard dog on to her that she finally capitulated and did as she had been told.
When she finally appeared before him, a heated flush raced upwards from his genitals to colour his face a cherry red as he laid his eyes on her for the first time since he had ordered her to be consigned to the oubliette.
That move had obviously been a bad mistake, she was a beauty among swine and if he had not been so hasty he could now have spent almost an entire day sampling her undoubted talents. The business with the wrong girl being kidnapped had thrown him and on first sight he had not properly appreciated what now struck him with the force of a hammer blow; her absolutely overwhelming and all-embracing sexual magnetism.
He had been a fool, but he would not remain one. She was the second of Aztor's chosen girls and he was going to fuck her into insensibility, while at one and the same time demonstrating to her his indisputable superiority. Standing silhouetted in the doorway to his apartments, with Louis and his dog blocking any retreat she might have contemplated, she represented the epitome of every carnal image that he had ever envisaged. He suddenly became lost in a reverie of escalating sexual imagery, the scene before him becoming a blank nothingness within which writhing, screaming women were begging for his manhood to be plunged into them.
But at that moment his cock only had eyes for Lolli. It wanted her. He wanted her. It took a great deal of steely resolve to calm his raging emotions until finally pulling himself together he motioned Louis to usher her into the more brightly lit centre of the room. She had not dressed herself like the usual sex objects that he was accustomed to dealing with. Instead, she was displaying a minimum of naked flesh. But that flesh was unashamedly sexually provocative and packaged; voluptuous breasts and naked shoulders being almost its full extent. Wonderfully creamy mounds spilled from the uplifting cups of a clinging, otherwise all-enveloping satiny creation that fell to her ankles, emphasising the tightness of her waist and the smooth roundness of her hips. And she wore a hat; a wide brimmed, low crowned fantasy that threw beguiling shadows over her flickering eyes. Every luscious contour of her was displayed to perfection, a perfection that he had never experienced before.
And it was all deliberate. She considered him an unsophisticated brute and wanted him to see exactly the sort of picture that a cultured gentleman would expect an elegant, desirable woman to present and when his senses had been titillated she wanted to tear the vision away. And as he started towards her, that was just what she did. The hat was whipped from her head and thrown into a corner and using both hands, she tore the dress from top to bottom, tugging the remnants from around her ankles just as he reached her.
Unfortunately for her, what lay beneath the dress inflamed his senses even more. She wore nothing but a white, lace-fringed suspender belt, pearlescent white stockings and white stiletto-heeled and wickedly pointed shoes, presenting a picture that would have had any red-blooded male's pulse racing into overdrive. However, aided by his recent series of orgasms with Rebecca, with a great effort he managed to calm himself until his pulse was relatively steady and normal.
Before dismissing Louis, he enlisted his help in securing and positioning Lolli as he wanted her. It was inevitable that he was going to fuck her but that did not mean that she had to make things easy for him and so she fought like a wildcat as he attempted to snap handcuffs onto her wrists. Louis linked his arms around her waist, lifting her from the floor as with bristling hair and slavering fangs the dog snapped at her flailing legs. Peter gave up on the handcuffs and with much difficulty he tied two separate lengths of coarse rope to each of her wrists, but not before she had sunk her teeth deeply into the flesh of one of his hands. Then as Louis held her as steady as he was able, he tied one length of rope to a large hook on one wall, before repeating the process with the other rope. Using all his strength he pulled the second rope as tight as he could before tying it off so that her arms were stretched out from her shoulders, horizontal and taut.
That did not stop her kicking out with her feet or from cursing him loudly in a manner that most certainly would not be acceptable in the common room at The Lodge. She knew words that made him blink in amazement, but once more Lolli had not done herself any favours. He stood in front of her, taunting her and sucking his bleeding palm.
"Come on, more. I like it when you talk dirty."
And that was the truth. The more foul and sluttish were the outpourings from a woman's mouth, the more filthy the language, then the more his twisted mind converted the tirade of insults into the utterings of a sweet talking Delilah. As she continued her verbal assault he picked up two more lengths of rope, binding them around her ankles before tying them off to the same hooks in the wall. She was now lifted from the floor, her legs spread as tautly as her arms and her sex lips pulled apart.
Much as he appreciated dirty talk, her outpourings were now distracting him and taking up a large fragment of her discarded dress, he rolled it into a ball and stuffed it into her mouth, securing it there with another length, which he pulled tight between her lips and tied at the back of her neck. Finally he clamped an iron hoop around her neck and hooked it into a long iron bar and fixed that to the wall. There would be no more flailing limbs or sharp teeth.
The shredded dress had come in very useful and he utilised yet another piece to bind his injured hand as together with Louis he stood greedily taking in every inch of her splayed body. Ordering the reluctant Disciple back to his normal duties, he contemplated his options. He could blindfold her but he wanted her to see everything that was coming to her, every stroke of the cane or lash of the whip. That would heighten her fear before she felt any of the pain. He could remove the gag so that the sweet music of her screams fell on his appreciative ear, and that he would probably do, but not just yet.
Picking up the cane that he had discarded earlier, he pushed it between her spread thighs and ran it along the cleft between her labia. Because they were pulled apart it sank between the fleshy lips, the raised notches causing her to flinch in pain as they scoured her tender inner flesh. Pulling it out from the crease just below her mons, he suddenly lowered it and then whipped it back smartly upwards several times, punishing both her open labia and the hooded clitoris that they had exposed. As she was gagged, she was not able to scream out loud and so he could only gauge the effect of the strikes by the grimaces that contorted her features. And they indicated that he had indeed caused her great agony.
He had made a good start and now he moved on and got down to the serious business. Standing sideways on to her, he lodged the cane in the crease beneath her breasts. They proved to be heavy, much weightier than he had expected, resisting his efforts to lift them. The temptation was irresistible, in a swift movement he whipped the cane away and lifting it high delivered a searing stroke to the fullness of both her orbs.
The impact of the blows, falling as they did upon the wounds left by Duke had her writhing in agony. Gasps, grunts and pleas for mercy were blocked by the gag, the only indicator of her pain being the stream of tears that gushed from her eyes. Peter was totally unmoved by her reaction, his only response being to alter his position in order to deliver his next strikes to another area of her teats. Down they came; vicious, accurate... and unbelievably, excruciatingly arousing.
Tightly constrained, she pulled against her bonds as she withstood his assault, soaking up and welcoming the pain in the same way that blotting paper soaks up ink. Her exhilaration transmitted itself to Peter, who not achieving the capitulation that he had expected, ducked under one arm, stepped over an ankle tether and then standing upright behind her, readied himself to begin an assault on her backside.
Faintly visible below the covering of bruises, he thought that he could make out some kind of design seared into her buttocks. Three diagonal stripes were cut into each of her cheeks with lines of horizontal stripes laid across their apex, making it appear very much like the mathematical symbol of Pi. He had no idea what it could be and he was not going to interrupt his enjoyment in order to remove her gag and ask her. Aztor however could have told him without a moment's hesitation; it was a representation of the secret sign of his avowed enemy, The Brotherhood, which together with the tattoo of the same sign inscribed inside the lips of her labia marked her as the property of a Brother. And in this case a very particular Brother.
Although he had decided to waste no time by asking her about the design, there was nothing to stop him attempting to get a better look at it. His mind was clear and his aim accurate and in a controlled volley of strokes he laid a series of tramlines exactly over the faint originals. When he had done, the pulsing weals confirmed his notion about the design. To him it was simply Pi and that was that, he could think of no possible reason why she should be marked in that way, unless her master was a physicist or a mathematician who had found it amusing to decorate her in such a fashion.
He would not have dismissed it as instantly as he did if he had had any knowledge of The Brotherhood and its powers, particularly of retribution and revenge. Aztor had been very prudent in not disclosing any information regarding that deadly fraternity to The Children. There was safety in ignorance, perhaps they would not have been so keen to carry out his orders and procure the girls for him if they had known of their origins.
Lolli was not quite so full of fight now and she made little more than token resistance as firstly he released her legs and then her arms. She still could not move from her position however because the iron hoop and its attached bar still held her fixed to the wall.
"I'd like to be nice to you and if you promise to be a good girl and not cause me any more trouble, I'll take that from around your neck."
He told her to nod if she agreed to his proposal and kept his word when she did, releasing her without any delay and was surprised to say the least when she in turn kept hers and did nothing but rub her sorely abraded wrists and ankles. He decided that she had most probably accepted the fact that there was no escape, either from his actions or the manor itself and so had decided not to antagonise him further. And in that assumption he was partially correct, she was going to do nothing while she was still held in his rooms, once released from his presence however, that would be a different matter.
Taking hold of her shoulders he guided her over to the rear of the couch. Once she was behind it, he pulled her arms above her head and pushed her backwards over its straight back, hooking her armpits over its rolled top. He then lifted her feet and pulling them out and away from its base, he stretched her body taut before kicking her ankles apart, leaving her splayed out before him, the high heels of her beautifully delicate shoes scraping the stone floor and her inner thighs, belly and wonderful inviting sex fully available for his use.
Her luxurious pubes did nothing to hinder a prick tingling, unhindered view of her open, wavy labia, her mons thrusting upwards in an unashamed invitation to him - either to fuck her or to beat her. He decided to do both. There were no half measures with Peter, it was either all or nothing; the all being reserved for him and the nothing for her. But the cane was not a suitable instrument with which to punish a lusting vagina, there were other much more satisfying weapons. But using it to generate a little stimulation beforehand prepares and excites both a slave and her master and he was not going to deny either of them that particular sensation.
Not too severely, but not too gently either, he flicked the cane upwards between her spread thighs, delivering a succession of stinging strikes to her labia. Blood rushed into her fleshy sex lips, until reddened and engorged they were fully prepared and ready for his next step. Once more the cane was discarded and to the sounds of her muffled moans he took up his favoured implement, the flat-tongued quirt. Her sex was more than eager, her clitoris unhooded, erect and jutting out from between her labia. Provocatively she contrived to lift her mons and offer it up to the blades of leather as they flashed down. Her head fell back and Peter could see her throat working to contain her screams as the lashes fell. Her chest heaved and she spread her legs even farther apart, her thighs trembling as she struggled to push herself up to meet the next bout of erotic pain. He could almost see her vagina fluttering in need by the time he stopped. Her reddened sex was completely open to him and she was primed: ready to explode.
The animal scent of her lubricating juices wafted its way to his nostrils, another instant jerk reminding his penis of the honeypot awaiting its attention. And he wanted to taste that honey, not just with his prick but properly, with his tongue. There is, he well knew, something unique about the flavour and aroma of an aroused vagina, indescribable but wonderful; neither sweet nor bitter; not overpoweringly musky or cloyingly saccharine, just perfectly satisfying. A man who can lay himself down to sleep with that taste still on his lips and that fragrance still filling his nostrils, is a contented man indeed. Not that Peter had the slightest intention of sleeping, for one thing his rampant cock would not let him and for another he could not wait to savour the source of that naturally provocative sexual aroma.
Kneeling down between her legs, he lifted her knees, one over each of his shoulders, thus raising her mons higher and closer to his hungry lips. Burying his head between her thighs, he nuzzled and suckled her sex, running the tip of his nose up and down the widening slit of her labia. The taste of her was exquisite, everything that he had imagined and more as his tongue poked and wriggled up into her wet vagina. The closeness of her sex to his face, the taste and aroma of her vaginal juices and the tightness of her tunnel around his pursed tongue, combined into a heady mixture of blinding intensity, transforming his already iron-hard cock into a fleshy column of granite-like density.
Her clitoris, bulbous and erect pushed out between her labia and alternately biting and sucking as it thrust itself demandingly into his mouth, he began to drive her into a state of abandoned frenzy. Suddenly he stopped, pulling away as she continued to gyrate, seeking more of his attention, but he was through. With her at least. Reaching up he threw her knees from over his shoulders, dropping her legs down on either side of his kneeling form.
"Stop! No more of this. If you come you'll wish you were already up there in paradise with Aztor because life down here with me will be hell."
Clenching her fists, her muscles tightened as she struggled to do as he commanded. Peter himself rose to a standing position, her legs stretched out on either side of his calves as his hand snaked down to clasp his mightily swollen manhood. But one hand was not enough and his other fist joined the first as he began to masturbate. Faster and faster they flew up and down his shaft, until twitching wildly and gasping out piglike grunts he shot thick, hot sperm all over her sex, belly and breasts. The undeniable erotic thrill as his sticky seed showered over her totally overwhelmed any feelings of degradation that she might have harboured and in the midst of his ejaculation, as his jerking leg inadvertently brushed against her clitoris, she dissolved into a helpless all-enveloping climax. It had proved a mighty orgasm for Peter also and it took several minutes for his heaving chest to regulate itself back to a normal breathing pattern, and even longer for his penis to begin to slacken. As his mind cleared, he looked down on Lolli, her arms still hooked over the back of the couch and her sperm-stained body splayed out beneath him.
As his eyes fell upon her open vagina and he saw the trickles of lubricating juices that her arousal had generated, his weapon ceased detumescing and hardened itself once more into a rigid shaft.
"It seems that you Housegirls of The Lodge haven't been trained as rigorously as I'd been led to believe. None of you have learned to obey your Master's orders. Never mind, I'm sure there's something I can do about that."
And there was, the first thing being to fuck her because he had not yet got around to that. But what he did not understand was that if Duke or Montague had instructed her to control her desires then she would have obeyed, abandoning herself to her lustful needs was a direct action of disobedience, a challenge to his authority.
Disentangling her elbows from over the back of the couch he hauled her to her feet and pushed her into his bedroom, flattening her over the ornately carved four poster, which was an obvious relic from the days when the house had been a residence of the gentry. She lay with her breasts squashed down against the covers, and after widening her legs he lifted both her feet up onto the bed, so that with his own knees pressed up against its edge, her raised bottom presented itself at exactly the right angle for him to fuck both her anus and her vagina.
Smoothing his palms over the silkiness of her stockings, he reached the rougher band of embroidered lace before rolling over the wonderful, enticing flesh of her thighs. Gripping them tightly he pulled her backwards onto him as he thrust his shaft at her anus. But Lolli's training was far more entrenched in her psyche than he could have ever imagined and more than she herself realised. Determined as she was to offer him no assistance, she was unable to stop herself wriggling her bottom, pushing and rolling her anal hole around his bell-end in an effort to aid its entrance. Madame Stalevsky had never left a girl half trained and it took a conscious and greatly determined effort of will to deny that training, even in a situation such as this.
So, with her anus and his penis both anxious to sample their mutual delights it was not long before he was rasping and reaming her backside with animal intensity. He plunged in and out of her, his weapon swelling to fill her tunnel as his orgasm approached. But Lolli's wits had not entirely deserted her and at the moment before he reached the point of ejaculation, with a great pull away from him, she managed to eject his shaft from her anus. A tirade of the most despicable and vile curses rained down upon her as his helpless, jerking cock spewed its load of hot sperm everywhere but where he wanted it to. Her haunches and the backs of her thighs were dripping with his emissions but to her great satisfaction, not the tiniest drop had found a home inside her.
What happened after that was something that her conscience and his conceit would not allow either of them to forget for many a long year. In a cold fury he rained blows down upon her before heaving her over onto her back and plunging his still solid and erect shaft straight into her vagina, which due to the thorough tonguing he had given her earlier was well lubricated and welcoming. This time she really could not help herself, responding with unrestrained enthusiasm. Every plunge into her was greeted with a corresponding upward thrust of her own, her passions fermenting in a vat of desire until swiftly and frenziedly both of them erupted into orgasms of stunning intensity.
Peter collapsed between her legs and she sank back onto the sheets with not an ounce of energy left in her body. He had finally learnt exactly what a Housegirl could offer over and above any other slave and as his mind cleared he began to think that perhaps it would have been better if he had not. This girl and the others would be gone the next day and that would be the end of it. To have achieved the unattainable without the chance of ever experiencing it again was a disaster; he now knew that it was not true that to have fucked and lost is better than not to have fucked at all, because with a memory as overpowering as that in his mind, no ordinary girl would ever be able to satisfy him to the same degree again.

***

When Rosa's Mistress had told her that instead of allowing her to go with Lolli, she intended to buy her a new wardrobe of exclusive clothes, her delight had been unbounded, she could think of nothing more wonderful. Now, as she lay in the boot of the car into which two unknown men had thrown her, terrified, blindfolded, gagged and with her ankles bound to her wrists she wished with all her heart that she was with Lolli and Rebecca.
Peter too was sharing that wish; he could not wait to get his hands on the last girl. Aztor had made it very plain that out of the three temptresses, she was the one he wanted most and before she was handed over Peter was determined to find out why. It could be for many reasons but he guessed that it had much to do with her sexual attributes. She had to be one hell of a woman if she was to better the performance of the others and he was determined to investigate everything that she had to offer for himself.
So after having a thoroughly fucked Lolli taken back to the awful oubliette it was an irritable, bad tempered Peter who greeted James and David. It had taken even longer than anticipated for the wreck to be cleared and the motorway re-opened, so it was around three in the morning when they finally made it back. As they carried a still hog-tied and struggling Rosa into his apartments, he was all set to give them a severe dressing down, but the words froze on his lips as he took his very first, almost disbelieving look at her.
Suddenly the time he had spent pacing the floor, waiting for her to be delivered was forgotten, it had been nothing but a minor inconvenience. He had been thoroughly smitten by Lolli, re-running the more prick-twitching moments of their encounter again and again through his mind, firmly convinced that he would never sample such a woman again. But now bristling with defiance, an equally beautiful, sensuous woman gazed at him with hard, hostile eyes. Thick brown hair, full breasts and clear skin with broad shoulders and a strong back that narrowed to a creditably trim waist all combined to give her the looks of an angel. He began to understand Aztor's interest in her, although her startling beauty could not be the only reason he wanted her so badly. Melinda, Lolli and now her, these three girls were truly unique.
He had James and David untie her wrists and ankles and still supporting her by her elbows, stand her on her feet. She was still wearing the ensemble that she had been trying on back at the emporium, a unique outfit that she had thought might please and intrigue Madame Stalevsky and an outfit that certainly pleased Peter's cock. In her younger days, Madame Stalevsky had been a talented ballet dancer with a promising career ahead of her, until on a world tour with her Russian Company she had suffered an injury that had put an end to her professional dancing days for ever. Her fortunes had rapidly waned until she became the brothel keeping Madame who was finally re-introduced to high society by John Carpenter as Mistress of The Lodge. But she had never forgotten those days, often regaling Rosa with tales of her triumphs and although she had spent some considerable time attempting to instruct her slave in the finer points of dancing, Rosa had found it more than difficult to even conquer pointework. She had done her best but it seemed that balancing on the extreme tips of her toes was something that she was never going to master successfully.
But dressing up as Margot Fonteyn or some other famous idol of her Mistress', that was a different matter. She could look the part and add something to it that the genuine artistes hardly ever seemed to attain, genuine sex appeal. And the outfit that she was wearing helped her do just that. It was a mock multi-layered tutu of a lustrous dark ocean blue, with a low-necked flimsy satin top that showed her full breasts to their best advantage and allowed her impressive nipples to poke through. Her legs were graced with hold-up fishnet stockings of the same shade, the shortness of the tutu revealing satin knickers and a luscious expanse of smooth, creamy thigh between them and the broad bands of her stocking tops. On her feet she wore block-toed soft leather ballet slippers with satin ribbons that wound around her ankles, again in the same shade of blue.
Swaying unsteadily, she kept her hawk-like eyes fixed on his, saying nothing but obviously awaiting some comment from him. He did not oblige her, instead telling his cohorts to handcuff her wrists behind her back so that the backs of her hands rested on her buttocks and to bind her elbows tightly together with rope. As a result her breasts were thrust up and forwards offering a magnificent target for any of the vast array of correctional implements at his disposal.
Peter was experiencing one hell of a day. He had fucked Rebecca, who although not one of Aztor's special girls was nevertheless a Housegirl from The Lodge; he had also driven his shaft into Lolli, which had turned out to be one of the great experiences of his life and now he was going to ravage the new arrival. And as he had already shagged Melinda many times, when he had done so he would have plundered every one of the abductees before Aztor had even got close to them. And not only that, the gold was now on its way to the safe haven in the Middle East that the Prince had set up for him as the payment for Olivia and the twelve other slavegirls.
He was elated, puffed up with self-congratulation and the sense of his own predominance in the cult; they were nowhere without him. That magisterial feeling vanished in a flash as a breathless Louis barged into his apartment without even knocking.
"Peter, amazing news. The Lord Aztor is here."

Eleven: December 31st

MONTAGUE ARRIVED back at The Lodge in the early hours and although Duke and Madame Stalevsky were anxiously awaiting him, Oliver Carlisle homed in on him before they could intervene. In a highly agitated state, he told Montague that he had received a ransom demand from The Children of Aztor for the release of his daughter. Behind his back, signalling desperately, Duke made it very plain to Montague that they required his attention urgently and so as diplomatically as he could he told his friend not to pay the ransom and that he would discuss the matter fully with him as soon as he was free.
Oliver Carlisle's problem paled into insignificance when the recent sequence of events was related to him, it was all so unbelievable. Everything that could be done had been done he was told, the police had circulated the descriptions of the kidnappers of Lolli, Rebecca and Rosa but as yet there had been no results. As for Melinda's disappearance, that was a mystery but as the girls had all disappeared within a few days of each other it seemed likely that there was a connection but it was by no means certain. The only thing that was certain was that Melinda had vanished from sight on Christmas day and had not been involved in an accident or admitted to hospital.
Montague's concern, while equally as deep as Duke's and Madame Stalevsky's, had its basis in a slightly different emotion. They both possessed very strong feelings for their slaves, feelings that came very close to love. He however, while very fond of Melinda, looked on her as an asset and he was as much bothered about the possibility of his investment being lost as he was about her disappearance. She was a silly girl and he should never have agreed to her ridiculous request, but it was too late for self-recrimination, what was needed now was action. And if ever there was a man of action, it was he.
He had connections of his own in all spheres of society, not least among the criminal fraternity that now and again provided him with valuable help and information. Wasting no time he immediately made a phone call, offering a huge reward for any information, both about the kidnappings and Melinda's vanishing act, knowing that the details would be circulated throughout the London underworld in a very short period of time.
The money on offer worked wonders and in a response, the speed of which amazed even him, he received what appeared to be a very important piece of information. Unlike cosmopolitan Chelsea, Battersea was still basically a working class area and so one or two pubs had opened at lunchtime on Christmas Day. A drinker at The Prince Albert, which stood directly opposite and only yards away from Battersea Park gates, had glanced through the Victorian etched glass windows and seen a remarkably beautiful young woman of mixed race being forced into a limousine, obviously against her will. It was nothing to do with him and he certainly would not call the police, but in self-interest, as it had raced away he had noted down the registration number of the vehicle. Not only that but of the descriptions he provided of the three men involved, two exactly matched those of the kidnappers of the Three Housegirls and the other seemed very similar to Olivia Carlisle's version of the appearance of Peter.
So that proved it, the incidents were related. In very short order, Montague informed the Police Commissioner, obtained the address where the car was registered and set up a combined raid on the premises. At around five a.m. the police battered down the front entrance door and the party raced into the building, only to find it empty. Judging by the mess it was in, it had been abandoned in a hurry and there was no indication as to where the occupants had fled.
It was in fact the house to which Peter had originally taken Olivia and when later, after Montague had disconsolately returned to The Lodge to await further developments and Oliver Carlisle showed him the ransom video, he immediately recognised it as such. So it seemed to be proved that it was The Children of Aztor who had taken all four Housegirls as well as Olivia and that they were probably being held captive together. But where? And why had a ransom demand been made for her and not for them?
While Montague had been away, Carlisle had taken a call from an untraceable pre-paid mobile phone from someone claiming to be acting on behalf of The Sacred Nazarene Peter and following his friend's advice, he had refused to pay the ransom. Before the caller had abruptly broken the connection, he had been told that if that was the case then he could draw his own conclusions as to what would happen to his daughter.
There seemed nothing more that they could do, nowhere that they could turn. Duke sat with his head in his hands, pondering the situation out loud, trying to find some explanation. But Montague had been alerted to the possibilities from the very first time that he had heard the name that Aztor had bestowed upon Peter, who himself had never realised its full significance. And just as he knew it would, that name had now reached the ears of The Brotherhood.
"Don't you see it? This is an ancient enemy of ours."
Duke did not. Nothing rang any bells in his brain.
"The Sacred Nazarene Peter! It's an anagram. Take the initial letters from Sacred Nazarene, put them together with Peter and what do you have?"
He spelt it out.
"The S  N  P  E  T  E  R."
He did not need to go any further, Duke saw it immediately.
"Good God! The SERPENT."

***

Although he could not linger long at the manor, Aztor had arrived with a very specific purpose in mind and he was not about to deny himself sufficient time in which to properly deal with the situation he had found there. On his arrival, he had not sent for Peter but had spent a good half an hour in deep, private conversation with David.
Following that, Louis had been dispatched to deliver his summons to Peter, whose immediate reaction was to have Rosa consigned to the dreaded oubliette to join Lolli and Melinda. When a breathless Peter finally stumbled into his presence, Aztor wasted no time on preliminaries.
"Bring me the sacrifices."
His anger was obvious when Peter told him that he could not produce them straightaway as they were being held in an underground dungeon and would need to be bathed and cleansed before being presented to him. His anger turned to a cold, icy rage when he demanded to be taken to see them for himself and discovered the bruised state of their bodies and the mean conditions in which they were being held.
"Didn't I make it clear enough to you that these women are special beyond your understanding and should not be touched by anyone but me?"
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence ensued as he waited for an answer that never came.
"And where is Rebecca?"
Peter did not know, the last he had seen of her was when he had handed her over to Ryan.
"Alright, I suppose that it is possible to lose a girl but I don't think it's that easy to misplace the fuel for our starships. So show it to me now. Show me the gold!"

***

The twelve Disciples stood in tension-filled silence as they awaited Aztor's entry into the shadowy pit. They were assembled in a loose semi-circle, each one with his assigned slave on her knees and facing forwards in front of him. Aztor had also commanded that Rebecca be present at the forthcoming ceremony and she had eventually been located in Ryan's quarters, where following Peter's dispensation he had been subjecting her to the full extent of his repertoire of sadistic and sexual tortures. Now placed out in front of The Disciples, she was standing close to David and Olivia in a prime position to view whatever was to come.
Olivia's wrists and elbows were cuffed behind her back and giant imitation cocks, complete with bloated moulded rubber testicles had been ground into her, the fake scrotums pressing close to her wickedly stretched sex and anus. Looping around the roots of her breasts were chains, which had then been dropped over her shoulders and linked tightly to the handcuffs clamping her wrists. Sardonically, David had told her that he had trussed and plugged her that way because he wanted to make sure that she was relaxed and comfortable while she watched Aztor at work.
Magnificently hooded and robed and closely followed by a procession of six Arabs and the three Housegirls, the Spacegod made a dramatic entry into the darkly atmospheric pit. Fettered and linked together with chains connecting their ankles, Lolli, Melinda and Rosa shuffled in, with Lolli in the lead and each one of them held firmly in the grip of an Arab positioned on either side of them.
Despite her obvious terror Lolli looked absolutely ravishing, she was every inch the perfect image of a sex goddess. Cocks twitched uncontrollably, pulses raced and there was not one Disciple who did not wish that it were he who was about to ravage her luscious, unattainable body. Unattainable because she was their god's own sacrifice, but that did not stop them lusting after her and one of their number, sprouting an instantaneous erection, pulled his slave around to face him and thrust his hard shaft straight into her mouth. Grasping her hair in both hands he held it steady and frantically fucked her mouth, erupting into a frenzied orgasm in seconds. Swallowing desperately, sperm nevertheless ran from her lips as he grunted in gratification before spinning her around to face the helpless captives.
Although many of the others would perhaps have liked to follow his example, they wisely thought it prudent to refrain from behaviour that might distract attention from Aztor and his victim. But the manner in which that victim had been dressed was directly responsible for the errant Disciple's loss of self-control.
Aztor particularly liked slaves to be tightly clothed in leather, at least before he began removing it and Lolli was just the woman to show off his chosen outfit to its prick-teasing best. A cupless fully fitted corset made from Italian black Nappa leather squeezed and moulded her already enviable figure into a glorious perfection that would have challenged Aphrodite's own as the image of love and lust. Tailored to keep her breasts upright the corset pushed them out into mounds of succulent meat, her huge dark areolae and nutmeg nipples calling out for a suckling mouth or well-aimed cane. A broad metal zip ran from top to bottom down the centre of the garment, its fastener nestling in the valley between her breasts, and several inches apart three separate broad leather straps were pulled tight and buckled over the top of the zip. The buckles were large and ornate, made from steel and to an aficionado very titillating in themselves. At the front, the bottom of the corset lay just above her navel before looping over her hips to dip in a V shape that edged into the crack of her swelling buttocks. Laced at the back with thick leather thongs, pulled extremely tight, it could be dispensed with in a few swift tugs of the laces.
Long suspenders clipped into fishnet stockings, and between her thighs, with no knickers to obscure the view, her dark curly pubes ran down over her mons to straggle over her labia. A broad heavily studded leather collar encircled her neck, similarly studded leather wristbands extended almost to her elbows and high stiletto-heeled, pointed-toed and multi-strapped ankle boots adorned her feet. Every item was again a dense black, which was in stark contrast to the colour in which Duke preferred her to be dressed. But that in itself pointed up the difference between him and Aztor, white symbolising the goodness and benevolence of The Brotherhood and black, the callous evil of Aztor.
Ordering her two guards to release her fetters, Aztor spun around and reaching out grasped one of her prominent bullet nipples between a thumb and forefinger. Squeezing it with vicelike strength he pulled her behind him, the circle of Disciples and their slaves parting to allow him to pass through, as with a pronounced limp he headed towards that most awful of the chamber's many horrors, the Iron Maiden! Already filled with dread, Lolli screamed silent prayers to God for her salvation as her mind conjured up the indescribable pain she would suffer as the lid slowly closed on her, the huge needle sharp spikes piercing her tender flesh. Her ashen face paled even further, her knees folding beneath her as she fell into a dead faint.
There was no argument that he knew what he was doing, if Ryan considered himself an expert, then his expertise was as nothing compared to that of Aztor. Years of practical experience had given him unrivalled knowledge of the most awful methods that could be used to build up tension and fill a girl's mind with terror. It was torture, dreadful and terrifying and for the moment purely psychological, her own thoughts doing his work for him. Although his prime concern was to punish her, he had no intention of actually consigning her to the interior of the Inquisition's most terrible of instruments. But that was not due to any sense of altruism, firstly she had to suffer, and suffer long; many and varied were the tortures he had in mind, and secondly she was simply too valuable to waste. When he was finished with her, she would command a fortune on the open market, but that would not be for a very long time yet, Aztor would be someone that she would not forget for the rest of her days.
What use was her precious Duke now?
Lolli remained limp and seemingly lifeless, drifting in and out of consciousness as with David's help Aztor made his preparations for her real, physical torture. When she finally came to and blinked her eyes, her joy at not being stuck through with bloodletting iron spikes was a relief beyond all description. But it was a very short-lived joy, for as the pain hit her she immediately realised that she was strapped and locked into a vile apparatus. It was a perfect upright square constructed from heavy timber spars, ten feet high and the same in width, bolted to the floor. She found herself suspended in the middle of the frame in the shape of a letter X, her arms and legs stretched out tight with her wrists and ankles linked to each corner by lengths of steel chain. The ring on the back of her collar was clipped to a chain fastened to the overhead horizontal spar, ensuring that her head was afforded only minimum movement.
Waiting until she was fully aware of her situation, Aztor stood smiling wickedly and in great satisfaction. It was only too obvious that he was pleased with himself as he critically scanned her straining body, her muscles taut and prominent beneath her perspiration lathered skin. Prolonging the moment of speech until her very reason seemed to be in question, he finally broke the silence.
"I hope you're nice and comfortable because I've got something very special in mind for your entertainment. I've been looking forward to this moment for a very long time, planning exactly what I'd do to you once I had you under my power. And now here you are, it's just a pity that your pig of a husband's not here as well, that would have been even more interesting, he could have watched what I did to you before I dealt with him."
Very carefully and deliberately, he grasped the hood of his magnificently decorated robe and tugged it from his head, revealing an awful parody of a face. An horrific gold mask hid his features, his piercing, cruel black eyes staring through eyeholes edged at the top with huge moulded eyebrows and two goat-like horns sprouting from his forehead; the eyebrows and the horns being made up of wriggling, intertwined snakes. The mouth was equally as frightful, huge, fat lips framing an oval orifice from which his lascivious, salivating tongue uncurled in an unsavoury licking gesture as his eyes swept over her breasts and her sex.
Then releasing the surcingle wound around his floor-length robe, he shrugged the garment from his shoulders and allowed it to drop to the ground. The body that was revealed was one of great strength, every muscle etched into sharp definition. Gold bangles of intertwining snakes encircled his massive biceps, but apart from those he was wearing nothing but a simple soft leather pouch that strained to contain his weighty penis and genitals and a pair of heavy knee-length, studded leather boots.
Lifting his arms, he turned to face his eager flock and their slaves, displaying himself to them in unabashed arrogance. Murmurs of praise rippled through the assembly and seemingly satisfied he returned to his task. A glowing brazier lay within arm's reach, a flurry of sparks spiralling into the air as he grasped the iron poker heating in its depths and stoked the coals into fire. Turning his head, he paused to direct a meaningfully threatening look straight into Lolli's eyes, then drew it from the flames and inspected its white hot tip.
"Do you know what I'm going to do with this?"
As he had now transferred his gaze directly to her sex, a completely unhinged Lolli thought that she did.
"What do you imagine it will feel like? Hotter than the stunted little cocks that you usually have stuck up there, I think."
His deliberately coarse comment was a cold brutal statement, devoid of any feeling and elicited no response, all power of speech having deserted her, all she could do was stare at him and the poker with wild, terrified eyes. Inspecting the glowing tip of the poker once more, he told her that it was cooling down too quickly and needed to be reheated. Thrusting it back into the midst of the coals he left it there as he addressed her again.
"It's called tempering, but then I suppose a university educated bitch like you already knows that."
But that did not stop him from describing in detail the exact process, which was to heat iron until it was white hot and then plunge it into something wet and cooler. Of course water was most commonly used for this purpose but a nice juicy vagina was absolutely perfect, because as the internal flesh seared it produced carbon, which combined with the hot iron to harden up the metal.
When he appeared to be satisfied that the poker had achieved the required temperature, with great deliberation he pulled it from the brazier and holding it aloft approached her. Lolli had never known such terror before and her anguished screams were such that pushing their slaves in front of them, the semi-circle of Disciples gathered closer in order to gain a better view of what was happening.
Positioning himself directly in front of her straining body he slowly lowered the poker and placed it between her widespread thighs. Held steady a few inches from her sex, the red-hot iron singed and shrivelled her pubic nest and screaming hysterically she lost control not only of her mind but also her body. Rivers of urine poured down onto the poker, flashing instantly into clouds of steam, a ripple of applause and murmurs of appreciation coming from the watching Disciples.
Their god Aztor was giving them a master-class in handling and priming a woman for optimum performance and this particular fraction of it was not quite over. Removing the poker, he grasped Lolli's hair and directed her gaze towards his genitals. Dipping into the pouch, what he subsequently pulled out was not his penis but a cigarette. Putting it to his lips and making a great show of his actions, he then lifted the poker and lit the cigarette with its still glowing tip. After calmly blowing perfect smoke rings over each of her nipples and then into her face, he threw the poker to one side, accompanied this time by genuine, loud and long cheers of admiration.
Every ounce of strength had drained from her body and in normal circumstances she would have hung limply from her chains but she was held in tension, strung up so tightly that no movement was possible.
"All that fuss just because I needed a light. Really, you must learn to control yourself in a much better fashion."
Now that the immediate possibility of serious harm coming to her seemed to have diminished, the electrifying thrill of the unknown that she had experienced when David first led her into the pit, flooded back. This bizarre, alien man who seemed intent on wreaking vengeance on her for something of which she had no knowledge, but which he appeared to believe that he had suffered at the hands of The Brotherhood, was powering her senses into overload.
Did he really intend to hurt her? Would he beat her senseless? Was he going to fuck her? And if he did, what would it be like? What if he were better than Duke, or Montague, how would she feel then?
And then a thought popped into her mind that bewildered even her; just what did she look like, chained into that weird apparatus wearing the revealing leather corset? Was she sexually appealing enough for him to actually want to sink his penis into her? She could not know it but the answer that question was a most definite yes, Aztor having discovered that it was not only revenge that was sweet, so was her body. He had been forced to fight hard to keep his weapon under control as he had worked on her; the swell of her breasts, the roundness of her backside, her wonderfully dark and curly pubes and the juicy vagina that lay below them having inflamed his senses just as he had inflamed hers. But any show of weakness on his part was unthinkable; he was Aztor, strong and incorruptible by any woman and it was vital that his followers should continue to believe that he was as invincible in that direction as he was in every other.
So he did not immediately ravage her himself, in any case there were still the other two sacrifices to be dealt with. However he had no intention of leaving her unoccupied while he went about that task and after a moment's hesitation he called forward the two members of his entourage who had been her escorts. With turbans wound around their heads and long flowing robes, just like the rest of his squad of minders, they were big men of a heavy, threatening appearance with hook-nosed, hard-faced features that seemed to Lolli to be the mandatory look of Islamic terrorists everywhere. The only thing missing were the kalashnikovs and the bandoliers of shells. These were strange companions for a self-proclaimed Spacegod.
The Disciples had initially also been somewhat wary and dubious about them because they were so different from themselves. Sensing their misgivings, Aztor had told them that to him all the peoples of the world were as one nation and that his legion of followers knew no racial barriers. After the apocalypse they would all join together with him as brothers and live together in harmony and peace. And these particular six 'Children' had very recently been responsible for rescuing him from an unjust incarceration in the United States, where the American Government had imprisoned him in chains just because he had been preaching the gospel of the ascension and trying to raise funds to obtain fuel, just as they themselves had been doing. He maintained a very discreet silence over the matter of the gun battles and the fact that over there, in addition to leading the cult of Aztor, using a separate persona he had also tapped into the rich vein of anti-Washington conspiracy theory, raising millions of dollars from paranoid malcontents, the heavily fortified compounds he had set up in which to instruct them in the arts of bomb making and sabotage being the real reason for Uncle Sam's interest in him.
So without any of that knowledge and their doubts removed, The Disciples showed no rancour as he addressed the two men.
"My Children, I am going to give you the chance to sample for yourselves the delights of this woman, a woman who is the pride of our proclaimed enemy. Do to her what you will, but don't take too long, I'll soon be ready for her again myself."
But before finally leaving her in the hands of his guards, he had one final thing to say to Lolli. Where was the all-mighty Brotherhood now? he asked her. He would have thought that Montague and Duke would at least have made some attempt to rescue her and the others, feeble as the attempt might have been. But they had not, they were nowhere to be seen, they had just abandoned the girls to their fate. But that was no more than he had expected. They were nothing but cowardly strutting peacocks that he would vanquish in a second if ever they dared to show their faces around him.
There was no doubt that there were many and varied atrocities that the Arabs would have been only too happy to subject her to but given Aztor's time limit there appeared to be only one course to follow. And that was to fuck her. Both at the same time. There would be no problem with that because she was suspended within the frame in such a fashion that both her vagina and her anus were fully accessible. With one taking up a position in front of the frame and the other behind it, they freed their rampant circumcised shafts and advanced upon her.
A pair of cruel hands fondled and squeezed her breasts, fingers pulling and stretching her nipples while at the same time two more palms slid over her rump before slipping between her widespread thighs. A thumb probed at her anus, squeezing past her sphincters, and fingers buried themselves into her unwilling vagina. Her sex was wet, not with lubricating juices but with the urine she had showered down onto the poker.
With their hands and mouths working on her body, the two men pinched, sucked and bit every inch of succulent flesh exposed by the corset. Down on his knees, the man in front of her slid his tongue upwards from her stocking tops over the still unmarked length of her inner thighs, before running it along the length of her labia, noticeably savouring the mixed taste of her urine and her sex. The second man pulled his thumb from her anus and replaced it with a rimming tongue that darted in and out of her orifice, his compatriot pushing his own tongue up into her vagina.
The sensation was electrifying and she began to tingle with arousal, little bursts of sexual energy racing over her body to charge it full of need and expectation. It was not right, she could not allow these beasts to stimulate her in such a way, but fight against it as hard as she did, when they replaced their tongues with two rock hard shafts she was lost. As one thrust mercilessly into her tight backside, the other plunged into her now fully accommodating vagina. Slowly at first and then gradually building into a frenetic pumping, they stoked her into an increasing frenzy of desire. Beads of perspiration spouted from her pores and little squeals and whimpers fell from her lips as her orgasm grew nearer. Because of the restricting chain attached to her collar, she could not move her head and so was unable to look down to watch the penis that was plunging in and out of her sex, something that she normally loved to do, especially at the moment of ejaculation. Humping and pumping with fiery energy the two men came at practically the same instant, their sperm flooding into both her holes and catapulting her into a noisy, shuddering orgasm of her own.
Once again she had allowed herself to succumb to unwanted sexual stimulation, but the feelings of humiliation and disgrace that were again sweeping over her were being pushed aside by contrary feelings of lust. But it was not her fault. Her training had been faultless and complete, the endless agony-filled hours she had spent soaking up Madame Stalevsky's great knowledge and expertise had turned her into what she was; a complete submissive who could not help but succumb to authoritative male domination. As desperately as she was trying to hold on to it, her usual unquestioned allegiance to The Headmaster, Montague and Duke was being tested to the full. It was true that she had previously enjoyed many fulfilling liaisons but up until now, she had only been fucked by and achieved orgasm with them or men that either they or Madame Stalevsky had designated. This was different, none of them were there to give their permission and she was not only soaking up every moment of it but lusting for more. Duke had told her that the principles of lust were to do what you want with no restrictions until there was nothing left that you had not done; or until you found love. Well, she had found love with Duke but there was something that she had not done; she had not fucked Aztor and it was not these lackeys of her tormentor that she wanted now, it was the merciless beast himself.
To try and divorce herself from the reality of what was happening to her and rid her mind of such wicked thoughts, she concentrated on the events of the previous few hours. As they had seen nothing of Rebecca since their introduction to Peter, once Rosa had been dumped into the oubliette with them, Lolli and Melinda had come to the conclusion that the three of them must be the special girls requested by Aztor. Their assumption had been confirmed when after the trapdoor had been unexpectedly thrown open, they had been hauled out of the foul underground cell by David and Ryan and told that all three of them were to be prepared immediately for sacrifice to the Spacegod. He had appeared at the manor out of nowhere, or if David's assertion was to be believed, from somewhere out there, meaning space, because following his face-to-face conference with Aztor, David's faith in him had been completely restored.
Even more unexpected was what had happened next. Apparently on Aztor's orders, bruised and bloodied, manacled and chained together Peter and James were hurled into the dark, dank interior of the oubliette and the trapdoor slammed shut. The girls knew nothing of the struggle that had ensued after Aztor's confrontation with Peter and his inability to produce the gold. It had been brief but violent in the extreme, to David's amazement Aztor easily overpowering and incapacitating the previously invincible James with no assistance, while he and Ryan had dealt with Peter.
Peter had made an extremely unwise choice of person, when he had bartered with the Arab Prince for a safe haven in which to hide both himself and the gold. As it happened, Aztor was a very welcome presence in his country, his main base was located there and the Royal Family had used his services to great effect many times. So following his sampling of Olivia, the Prince had lost no time in contacting Aztor to advise him of Peter's intentions and also of David's heated disagreement with them, which was what had prompted his arrival at the manor. And as Peter had shipped the gold straight to his lair in the Middle East he would very soon have everything that he wanted, the gold itself, the slavegirls and his most precious of prizes, Lolli, Melinda and Rosa.
Although he had not been idle during Lolli's reverie, Aztor had not yet positioned his second victim exactly as he wanted her. Pausing in his own activities he saw his two henchmen wiping and cleaning their sticky shafts on Lolli's sex and haunches. Gaining their attention, he waved them away before signalling the two men who had been guarding Melinda to take their places.
They needed no urging, immediately swooping on her. Following the lead of their predecessors, one to each breast, they pinched, squeezed and sucked her bruised and tender flesh, pulling out her nipples to take them between their teeth. Trailing their lips and salivating tongues down over her belly, in turn they tasted her sperm filled sex, before each one chose an orifice and plunged his throbbing weapon into a recently vacated and slippery hole.
The fact that their leader had handed this devastatingly sexually packaged Western woman over to them, a woman who was intended to be his own special sacrifice, seemed to spur them on. In and out in long reaming strokes, with their balls slapping against her labia and her buttocks, their shafts pistoned into her. Steeling herself against the overwhelming stimulation of their thrusting cocks, she concentrated her attention on Aztor and Melinda. And she wished that she were in Melinda's place.
Despite the overwhelming threat of danger, like Lolli, Melinda found her fear deliciously tinged with excitement and anticipation. She had watched with her heart in her mouth as Aztor had enacted the red-hot poker scene and the sexual buzz for her as an onlooker had been tremendous. And now it was her turn.
Unlike Lolli, Melinda was displayed in all her naked splendour, her only adornments being jewellery fashioned from gold and precious stones. Her earrings were intricately filigreed works of art, thick rings hung from her nipples, a giant sapphire glittered in her navel and dual ladders of rings pierced her labia. Her ebony silk hair was swept back from her forehead and ears to cascade over her shoulders, framing her delicately chiselled features to perfection. A most unusual shade of almost turquoise lipstick painted her lips, providing an intriguing but complementary contrast to the light coffee colour of her skin and polish of the same blue decorated her finger and toenails.
She looked absolutely stunning. And Aztor obviously thought so because as she stood open legged before him, he spent several minutes doing nothing but drinking in her beauty and running his palms over her jutting breasts and wondrous rump. For a man of such proven bestiality, he was remarkably tender in his treatment of her, even when he pushed his fingers up into her vagina, he only did so after running them up and down the commisure of her labia until they parted of their own accord and her flowing juices eased their entry. As his fingers found their way deeper inside her sex, his thumb worked on her clitoris and his tongue roved over her stiffening nipples. She could not help herself, as with the others, Madame Stalevsky's training had been only too successful and she found herself responding with an enthusiasm that was impossible for her to suppress. Her eyes closed, her tongue flicked from between her parted lips and she began to slowly gyrate her hips trying to increase the sensation inside her vagina. Her internal muscles began to squeeze his stiff fingers and he increased his manipulation in response to her growing arousal until as she began thrusting herself further onto his fingers, with a snarl he suddenly pulled them from her clasping hole and pushed her from him.
"Just as I thought. You're nothing but a slut, a Brotherhood tart who'd let any man with a cock fuck her. Well, not this man; not yet anyway."
And in saying that he had given himself away; he was no Spacegod, just a man. Melinda was suddenly brought back to reality. She was behaving like a slut, it was true and she knew it. But what could she do? This was what she had been trained for and whether it was this monster or a member of The Lodge, she would react in the same way. And that went for the other Housegirls too, press the right buttons and like Pavlov's Dog they followed an ingrained, programmed pattern. They were helpless to resist, their carefully nurtured pliant and subservient personalities allowed any masterful man to dominate them completely. Which was ideal for their life at The Lodge but not so wonderful in situations such as those in which they now found themselves.
And of the three sacrifices, she was the only one who had no idea whatsoever what he meant by The Brotherhood. He was continually mentioning it but what was it to do with her? If they ever got out of this situation, Lolli was going to have some explaining to do.
Suspended from the ceiling and hanging from the end of a massive iron chain, a tall, circular steel-slatted cage spun very slowly above Melinda's head. She really could not have missed seeing it but he drew her attention to it anyway.
"It's for you."
He lifted a hand and stopped its rotation.
"You like cages I've been told. You'll like this one better than any you've been shut up in before."
It had actually been constructed especially with her in mind, he told her. Long before his followers had snatched her from the Albert Bridge, following his exact instructions they had been working on it ready for when he wanted to use it. But how he knew that she hated to be locked up in a cage more than anything else remained a mystery.
The warm juices that had been earlier flowing freely from her vagina cooled, even though they still glistened over the surface of her sex lips. How could she have let herself be carried away by his crude behaviour? And then with an inward sigh of defeat, she answered her own question out loud.
"Because I'm a Lodge girl."
Aztor caught her words.
"Of course you are. But very soon you'll be a slave of Aztor. And then you'll find out what it means to serve a real Master, not a limp-wristed fop like Montague DuPont."
The iron chain that held the cage aloft was wound around a winch, and winding the cylinder towards himself, he loosened the chain and lowered it until the floor of the cage was about level with Melinda's buttocks. There was a large door in the front, which he pulled open before suddenly lifting her from her feet and placing her bottom onto its steel floor, leaving her legs dangling outside. Working slowly and deliberately he snapped steel rings attached to lengths of chain over both her wrists. Fixed to the top of the cage were large metal hoops and lifting her arms above her head, he ran the chains through them and after pulling them tight, he wound the ends of the chains around the hoops before padlocking them together. With the steel rings biting into her wrists, the chains now cruelly stretched her arms upwards and backwards, leaving her jutting breasts fully exposed and ready for his attention.
A little touch of ritualistic fire-cupping was what he had in mind for those wonderful breasts, everything he needed had been readied and again calling upon David, he had him bring them over. On the carved tray that he held out to Aztor were placed two open-ended glass globes, a cigarette lighter, a cut-throat razor, a pair of very long-nosed pliers, a small pile of cotton gauze circles about an inch and a half in diameter, a few short pieces of very thin string, a bottle of methylated spirits and a tube of KY jelly.
Moving in close, he opened the cut-throat with one hand, at the same time looping the middle finger of his other hand through one of her giant nipple rings, stretching her dark chocolate-coloured nugget to its fullest extent. Melinda squealed in terror as the possibilities of what he could do to her sank in.
"Very good. A torture chamber just wouldn't be a torture chamber without a few good loud screams, it adds to the atmosphere. But if I were you, I'd shut my mouth and keep very still, we wouldn't want this razor to slip, now would we?"
Melinda fought to obey him, even managing to not to thrash wildly around when he laid the blade of the razor flat onto her breast meat. Perspiration stood out in beads on her forehead and glistened on her body.
"Oh dear, you've spoilt it now. This won't work if your skin is damp."
But he would sort that out in a moment, he said, after he had made sure that there were no hairs on her tits. There were not of course but he ran the razor lightly over both her breasts for no other reason than to frighten her even more. But Melinda's nature allowed fright to channel a direct line to her libido; the undeniable aphrodisiac of fear and excitement linking together to give her a definite sexual kick, setting her nerves jangling and her sex juicing.
Not bothering to close it, he laid the razor back on the tray and scooping up his magnificently ornate robe, he used it to wipe every last trace of sweat from her breasts. Then, using the KY jelly he greased a circle of flesh surrounding the nipples of both her breasts, succulent firm flesh that had not the slightest trace of down upon its surface. And that was important because when he came to apply the cups, any wisps of hair would leave pockets of space and not permit a tight seal, which in turn would mean that a pure vacuum could not be achieved.
Using the long-nosed pliers, he picked up a wad of the cotton gauze and dipped it into the methylated spirits, then flaming the lighter he ignited it. An especially long and colourful deep orange flame leapt upwards as the spirits burned, the cotton itself being untouched, and taking up one of the glass globes he held it upside down with its open mouth above the flame for a few seconds, taking care not to heat the glass but only the air inside the globe. When he was satisfied that it was hot enough, he quickly placed the mouth of the globe over one of her nipples and pressed the rim into her breast. He studied the results carefully, watching as the air inside cooled and creating a vacuum, sucked her nipple into erection and drew its surrounding flesh up into the globe. Repeating the entire operation on her other breast, he then stood back to admire the results.
With the globes now firmly anchored over her nipples, he made her shuffle backwards on her bottom, until her sex was directly over a large circular hole cut into the floor of the cage. Seated with her buttocks flat on the floor of the cage, he spread her legs wide and clamped iron rings to both her ankles. As with her wrists, he linked chain through the rings and padlocked the ends to two of the upright slats, so that now both her arms and legs were securely and immovably fixed to the bars of the cage.
Checking that her nipples were now proudly erect, he gathered up two of the short lengths of thin string. Putting one hand on one of the globes, with the other he pressed the flesh to which the rim was stuck, firmly downwards, eventually breaking the seal. Slipping his fingers under the rim, he pulled the globe from her breast, letting it fall and smash on the floor so that he could complete his task before her nipple began to shrink. Looping one of the lengths of string around the base of her nipple, he pulled it tight and tied it off thus ensuring that the nipple would remain erect and sensitive. Her other breast came in for the same treatment, both her nipples now being sensitive and swollen, with light purple bruises more darkly colouring the coffee like hue of her skin.
Nipples that have been treated in that way are greatly enlarged and sensitive and hers were no exception. Clipping fine steel chain to both of the rings that pierced them, he pulled it tight and clipped it to the steel slats in front of her. He then re-tightened the chains stretching her arms upwards so that she was held securely in place and any movement would result in her nipples being painfully pulled by the chains.
The door of the cage clanged as he slammed it shut and padlocked it, before turning the winch and hauling it up into the air. He continued winding it upwards until it was just a little higher than his head and standing beneath it, her sex and anal regions were fully exposed and accessible, courtesy of the large hole in its base. The ladders of golden rings piercing her labia glittered as they caught the light of the flickering torches and lowering the cage a couple of inches, Aztor used them to pull her sex wide open. Like her areolae and her nipples, her inner lips were of a much darker colour than the rest of her body and their aroma was a tantalising animal muskiness. Parting them and nuzzling his golden nose into her vagina, in a complete contrast he found it to be a wonderfully fleshy shade of pink. Sticking his tongue deep inside her, he felt her muscles react instantly to the stimulus. More of her juices flowed, bathing his tongue with their gourmet flavour as tingling currents of arousal ran through her nervous system. Even though he was well used to producing such results, Aztor nevertheless shook his head in wonder at the swiftness and fierceness of her reaction. And as with Lolli, sexual arousal was not confined to Melinda alone, his prick twitching in an unseen accompanying response.
The ever-ready David had already collected the next of his requirements and passed him a pure white thickly veined dildo of a huge length and diameter, if it had been cast from a real penis then the owner of that weapon was a blessed man indeed. Easing it between her sphincters, he pushed it up into her anus and even though it was well lubricated it was something of a struggle. But there was no doubt that Melinda enjoyed its intrusion, a very audible sigh of contentment greeting the final push right into her.
Then it was the turn of her vagina. He had a little more fun there, having something very special in mind. Greasing his fingers with the jelly, first of all he pushed two fingers into her, then three, then four and using very slow, methodical and continually re-lubricated thrusts, his entire fist. To some women, hand balling can be the most erotic experience that they ever encounter in their lives and it was turning out to be the case with Melinda. Pushing in even further, his forearm disappeared into her and with the dildo inserted into her rectum pressing against her septum from the other side, the resulting sensation was awesome in its intensity.
Her mind reeled, her senses blurred and she felt herself melting away into another world, it was as if every sexual experience that she had enjoyed before had been just a precursor to this. It brought with it an incredible sense of unity with Aztor, a melding of their separate entities into one fused whole, until dissolving into an unbelievable mind-shattering orgasm she seemed to leave this world entirely. She shrieked and jerked frenetically, pulling at the chains which anchored her constricted nipples, joyfully adding the pain to the fires which raged inside her. Smiling, Aztor left her to convulse on the end of his arm until every last breath-denying spasm had faded away before pulling his arm from her sex.
It had been agony but it had also been ecstasy. As her senses slowly returned, his sneering voice merged in and out of the background murmur coming from The Disciples and their slaves. He had nothing left to prove he told her, she could not deny that he was supreme among men; had anyone else ever propelled her to such an orgasm? Had she ever felt anything so unique with the men she serviced at her stinking Lodge? He did not wait for an answer. Of course she had not he went on, and to her shame she could not deny it.
A new set of emotions and allegiances began to bubble through the whirlpool that was her mind, she found herself binding with this indisputable monster, a man, if he was a man, whose face she had yet to see, hidden as it was by a devilish mask. He was going to leave her now he said, after all she was not the only girl who was lusting for his attention. But he would give her a little something to keep her fired up while he was dealing out the next girl's punishment.
Melinda had ten separate rings decorating her labia and from each one he now hung a chain about twelve inches long. On the ends of eight of them he hung heavy lead weights which he allowed to swing and sway, pulling her sex lips downwards as they did so. But dangling on the end of two of them were small dumpy candles, the tiny flames struggling to warm her tortured sex and the sooty smoke curling over her luxuriant pubes. Very well satisfied, leaving her to stew in her confused and raging thoughts, he blew her a kiss and moved on.
Now that he had dealt with two of the sacrifices and with his most valued prize coming next, Aztor decided to take a break from his efforts. The Disciples had been following his every action with unconcealed admiration and many of them were now displaying very visible signs of much more than just religious fervour. He needed to talk to David in any case and so knowing that there was one thing that would be welcomed by all of them and keep them busy for a while, he told them that the twelve slaves would be leaving with him as soon as he had finished in the pit, but they now had his permission to fuck or do whatever they wished to the girls for one last time.
They needed no urging and within seconds, cocks were being plunged into vaginas, anuses and mouths. Grunting Disciples bucked backwards and forwards driving themselves and their charges towards orgasm. And unlike the black night of their arrival, all the girls responded with unbounded enthusiasm, spreading their legs voluntarily and pulling their bottoms wide in order to accept the rampant shafts of their captors. Intermingled with the distressed sobs of girls who did not want to be parted from their masters, moans and screams of pleasure filled the air in a cacophony of sexual excess.
With The Disciples otherwise occupied for the time being, Aztor got down to his business with David. Because he had suspected that Peter, in league with James, was intending to pull some sort of double cross on Aztor, David had never told him about the ransom demand that he had sent to Oliver Carlisle. And the reason for that was very simple; if his suspicions turned out to be fact, then he intended to keep the money for himself. But now that Aztor had turned up everything was very different. David's physical toughness and natural cunning were unfortunately not matched by his intellectual capacity and during their short private conversation following his arrival at the manor, Aztor had brought about a complete restoration of his faith. And so David had told him all that had happened and after Peter could not produce the gold, Aztor had ordered the traitorous pair to be thrown into the underground dungeon.
Earlier that morning, before taking Olivia down into the pit, knowing of the ransom demand, Aztor had ordered David to contact Olivia's father again. This time however Olivia had been made to speak to him and in floods of tears she had begged him to pay the ransom and so set her free. Hearing his daughter's voice, Carlisle had broken down completely and immediately agreed, promising that he would move Heaven and Earth to ensure that the money was transferred that same day. David had then taken over the phone and told him that when he received confirmation from the Swiss bank, Olivia would be released and he would contact him again to tell him where she could be found.
Satisfied that all had gone well with Carlisle, Aztor listened intently to a proposition that David was putting to him on behalf of his slave. Nodding his head in agreement, he beckoned her to him as David concentrated his attention on The Disciples. The volume of sound accompanying their farewell carnal activities had reached new levels of intensity and no one was more voluble in her distress at the prospect of not ever seeing her master again than Elizabeth. The petrified, miserable abductee who had been so savagely ravaged and abused by Louis when she was first delivered to the manor was now his devoted and obedient slave. As he pushed her down onto the floor and laid his body over hers, she lifted her buttocks from the cold stone and humped her sex straight into his crotch, while at the same time crying out that she did not want to have to leave him.
Reaching out for his rampant shaft, she opened her legs wide and guided it into her now well-educated vagina. He was big and still stuffed her to capacity but her lubricating juices eased his penetration into her and very soon, her upward thrusts and his furious downward plunges saw him stuck up her right to the hilt. With tears of sorrow over their forthcoming forced separation flooding into her eyes, she clamped her legs around his waist and dug her long fingernails into his back, biting his shoulders as she urged him to ever more powerful and deeper thrusts. Pushing his hands under her backside, he gripped her buttocks and pulled her onto him so tightly that her labia spread wide, sucking on the loose skin of his ball sac and the flesh at the base of his penis with every deep plunge into her.
It was a frantic act of intercourse of almost animal-like intensity, her limbs shaking as a tide of passion flowed over her, overpowering her senses until with both of them screaming with release they reached fulfilment at the same moment. Gouts of his sperm pumped into her as still twitching with the after shocks of her monstrous orgasm, she tightened the grip of her legs around him so that he remained stuck deep inside her until every last drop had been drained from his testicles.
After lying flat out on top of her for several minutes and in doing so squeezing the breath from her body, he recovered sufficiently to lift himself on his arms and pull his still fairly erect cock from her vagina. A vagina that did not want to let him go and would have been more than willing to immediately submit to another frenzied reaming. But that was not to be and pulling away from her clamping internal muscles, on his knees he edged himself over her now prostrate body until only her head lay beneath his widespread thighs.
Although she had already begun to respond, knowing exactly what he wanted, he nevertheless cupped his hands underneath her head and raised it towards his shaft. It was something that she wanted too, the taste of his sperm having become an addiction that required daily dosage to keep it under control. Before her lips had even slipped over his bell-end, his shaft was once again granite hard and he grunted in pleasure as her tongue went to work. Sucking so hard that her cheeks hollowed, she slowly drew him towards another orgasm. His urethra swelled, pressing against her tongue as she increased the speed of her oral plunges over his weapon, until with a bunch of her hair gripped in either hand he wildly pumped her head backwards and forwards, pushing his pulsing shaft deep into her throat. Sperm once more raced from his testicles to erupt into her mouth as he reached a shaking, jerking orgasm, her grateful tongue savouring every last drop before she reluctantly swallowed it. Reluctantly, only because she would have loved to have kept it coating her taste buds forever.


Returning Olivia to David's charge, Aztor turned to Rebecca who had been standing silent and watchful throughout everything that had happened. No one present but he and she knew that she was no poor, ill-treated victim of the sex trade in Eastern Europe as John Carpenter had been led to believe. She had once been engaged in the international antiques trade, which is why she recognised the Chippendale chair when Duke used her in his room, but after meeting Aztor she had fallen subject to his will and was now his personal slave. She was a plant, her introduction to Carpenter being cleverly orchestrated, Aztor knowing that if the owner of The Lodge purchased her and took her back to England, then he would have someone on the inside, someone to help him gain revenge on The Brotherhood.
And she had performed her task well. It was she who had been responsible for supplying the information that had allowed Peter to capture the girls for Aztor. She knew that Melinda had been allowed to go to London for Christmas and once there her movements had been followed. She also knew that Lolli and Rosa were due to go to the DuPont mansion for a few days, but that particular abduction had fallen apart because Madame Stalevsky had not allowed Rosa to go. And because she had been unable to communicate that last minute change to Peter, the men had missed Rosa. But Madame Stalevsky had told her what she planned and so she knew about the proposed visit to Knightsbridge. Once Peter had her on her own at the manor, she had told him about it and James and David had been dispatched to harvest the last of Aztor's sacrifices.
But he now had an even more important mission for her. When he had finished in the pit, he was going to make sure that she was taken back to The Lodge, where she would be his eyes and ears and provide him with first-hand knowledge of the clandestine activities of some of the most powerful men in the country. Politicians of the highest office, captains of industry and finance and leaders of the military among others would unknowingly find the details of their secret sexual preferences and activities being relayed to a ruthless revolutionary who possessed no moral principles whatsoever. The potential for blackmail, both financial and political would be boundless.


Aztor was now ready to deal out justice to his final and most desired sacrifice and ordered David to bring The Disciples and their slaves back to order. He had been greatly taken by Rosa's mock ballet outfit and had decreed that after being bathed, made up and perfumed that she should wear it for her assignation with him in the pit. His instructions had been relayed to her by Louis who had also told her that Aztor wanted her to know that he had used the word 'assignation' deliberately and in its literal sense, meaning an appointment with a lover.
She had not liked the sound of that at all, but like Lolli and Melinda she had found the threat of the unknown frightening but also strangely titillating. In a mixture of increasing terror and muted excitement she had watched as he had maltreated her companions, all the while a never-quite-realised picture of his true identity rolling around in her mind. But it stubbornly refused to take a complete shape and in the end she gave up, telling herself that it was just her fired-up, over-active imagination causing her to suffer some sort of delusion.
Signalling the last two guards to release their grip on her, he lifted his arm and circled the air with a downward pointing forefinger. His meaning was plain enough, Rosa was to pirouette over to him on her tiptoes. In a cracked voice, she tried to tell him that she could not really dance classical ballet but her words faltered and died when he reversed the direction of his finger and passed it back and forth in front of the hideous lips of the mask, menacingly motioning her into silence. Impatiently he repeated the circling gesture and rather than risk his wrath, she inexpertly lifted herself onto her toes and with arms outstretched, twirled amateurishly towards him.
As she reached him, he planted a hand on either side of her waist and effortlessly lifted her high into the air. Tilting his head upwards, he slowly lowered her until, beneath the mask, his nose was pressed into her musky gusset. Then with a savage side to side tearing motion reminiscent of Louis' hellhound savaging a cat, he gripped the satin knickers in his teeth and ripped them from her body. As they fell to the floor, he lifted her higher and now free of the constricting material, a metal disc on the end of a five inch steel chain dangled from a heavy steel ring that pierced her left sex lip. Still holding her aloft, he took the disc into his mouth and viciously tugged downwards on the chain. Rosa's scream as her labia was wickedly wrenched by the steel ring was evidently music to his ears, as although saying nothing a long satisfied sigh escaped his lips as he lowered her to her feet.
Pulling her close to him, he ran his hands over her firm, full breasts, pausing in obvious relish as her solid, ringed nipples pushed through the flimsy satin top and dug into his palms. He rolled them under his hands in genuine appreciation before in two quick and simultaneous movements, he squeezed one of them maliciously between a crippling thumb and forefinger and reaching between her legs once again tugged on her labial chain with the other. The pain triggered a direct line of sexual energy that shot from her nipple to her sex and back again. The pain was intense and so was the pleasure. And so was the scream that accompanied them and echoed around the stone walls of the pit.
And then Aztor spoke to her, his cruel merciless and obviously disguised voice ravaging her ears in a flat emotionless whisper.
"Would you like to know why I arranged for you three girls to brought here for me?"
Giving her no chance to reply, he indicated Lolli.
"I want her because she is the property of Marmaduke DuPont."
Then he transferred the direction of his pointing finger to Melinda.
"And her, because she is the favourite slave of his father."
The DuPonts had caused him a great deal of inconvenience, he told her, and he was taking revenge on them by depriving them of their women. But her, she was different, she was a prize worth risking everything for.
"I want you because I like you. And because I like you so much I'm going to beat you black and blue and stick you through with skewers. And then I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
Every drop of vitality fled from her body, her face paling into a deathly white as she slumped forwards, only Aztor's quick action in pushing his hands under her armpits preventing her from falling to the floor. She tried to speak, to call out to the others but she could only manage a strangled croak.
"Ah, never mind, you can talk to them later when we're finished. But for the moment I'd prefer it if you kept quiet."
And he had a foolproof way of ensuring that she did just that. It was a combined leather head harness and ball gag. Stuffing the huge ball into her mouth so that her jaws were forced wide open, he then slipped the open harness over her head. A leather strap about an inch wide was attached to the top centre of the gag and ran up over her nose and forehead to loop over her crown and then down the back of her head. The straps of the gag were pulled cruelly tight and buckled into the vertical strap at the back of her neck, and another strap encircled her forehead, again being buckled viciously to the one running down the back of her head.
Suitably silenced, Rosa was now ready for Aztor's full attention. Spinning her around, he ripped the flimsy top from her back, fully revealing the striking images of scourges with spreading thongs that Madame Stalevsky had had very artistically tattooed on the back of each of her shoulders. But the layered tutu, the fishnet stockings and the ballet slippers, he left on as they transformed her already phenomenal figure into a ball breaking invitation to sexual excess and experimentation.
The apparatus that had been set up for her was basically a large wooden cask, which had probably in former days held a hogshead of ale. Laid horizontally, a large wooden shaft ran through its empty interior, emerging through what in its intended usage would have been its top and its bottom, but were in this position, its sides. The ends of the shaft were supported by triangular trestles, which raised it up so that at its widest point in the middle, its lowest extremity was positioned about two feet from the floor. A geared handle was fixed to one end of the shaft enabling it to be turned on its axis, rather like an old-fashioned butter churn. Three-inch-wide bands of studded wrought iron encircled it, with iron hoops and fixing points riveted at strategic points around its circumference.
Enlisting David's help, Aztor laid her on her back over it and with the iron studs cruelly digging into her flesh, she was spread-eagled with her arms pulled above her head and held apart by a spreader bar that lay flat on the surface of the barrel and was linked into wrist cuffs. Chains fastened by padlocks to the D rings riveted to the cuffs were pulled tight around the back of the wooden monster and looped underneath it, to be similarly fastened to each of her ankles. As with her wrists, her feet were wide apart, courtesy of another spreader bar. Crowbars were twisted into the chains to tighten them to the fullest extent possible and it was only the extreme suppleness of her body that had allowed her back to cling to and follow the curvature of the barrel.
With her body wound backwards around the cask, by cranking the wooden lever Aztor could now revolve it and so present any part of her anatomy at an ideal point for his attention. Deciding to test the contraption he slowly turned the handle and Rosa's head disappeared from view as the barrel took her with it, re-appearing moments later as it completed its revolution. Her hair flowed downwards over the stone flags as it continued to turn, her breasts and finally her sex coming back into view as he halted the barrel in its original position.
He was going to work on her tits first he told her, because he knew how much she would enjoy it. But the way he said it implied exactly the opposite, a mirthless evil chuckle accompanying his words. He had two breast clamps already prepared and picking up the first one he slipped it over her right mound. It was a wicked instrument, looking more like a piece of heavy industrial equipment than the sort of thing a master would normally use on his slave. But Aztor was no normal home practitioner, and some of his greatest excesses had resulted in spectacular reactions from the girls involved, gigantic orgasms resulting from the most brutal of treatments.
Pushing the clamp right to the back of her breast, he began to tighten it up. A heavy steel bar ran over the top of her mound close to her breastbone, while a second was edged into the crease below, vertical threaded bars linking the two together running up either side of her breast. Using the large wing nuts threaded on to the bottom of the vertical bars, he alternately wound each one further and further up the bar so that the horizontal bars gradually grew closer together squeezing her breast between them. Even though her flesh was firm the result was that her breast was squashed flatter and flatter with every turn of the screws.
With the bars digging deeply into her, he was eventually satisfied and repeated the entire exercise on her left breast. He had positioned the clamps to the rear of her mounds because apart from flattening and pushing her meat outwards, allowing them to squeeze into the flesh helped them to achieve a firm grip. Too close to the tip and a clamp can more easily be pulled off, which was not something that he wanted to happen.
The pain that the clamps were causing was either awful or stimulating. Whichever it was did not matter because he now had something even more interesting to which he intended to subject her. The horizontal bars that ran over the top and beneath her breasts had holes drilled through them, holes through which a variety of sharp instruments could be passed. And he had just the right things, the skewers that he had threatened her with earlier.
About twelve inches long, they were not particularly thin and as he showed one to her, terror flared in Rosa's eyes. Aztor relished that, he fed on the fear that he instilled in his victims and she was a particularly abundant source of sustenance. Slowly and deliberately he slotted the first one into a hole lying over her breast and pushed downwards. The needle-sharp tip pierced her flesh with a brief stab of pain that had her struggling ineffectually against her bonds. But as he continued to feed it through her flesh she felt discomfort rather than actual pain, only its emergence from the bottom of her breast once more giving her that flash of agony, before it was lodged into its corresponding hole on the bottom bar.
One skewer followed another, piercing her breasts from top to bottom, until six to each one, twelve in total were stuck through her breasts. Aztor stood back to admire his handiwork, once more turning to his audience with outspread arms and savouring their cheers and applause as they responded to his unspoken call for veneration.
But he had one more idea in mind for her tits before he left them. After flattening both her nipple rings against her areolae, he took from David a pair of matchstick thin steel tweezers that he had been keeping for this moment. After squeezing them open, he snapped them shut over each of her nipples, Rosa once more struggling with her bonds as the pain hit home. With rubber covering on the tips, the tweezers had sliding rings on their arms that could be slid along to increase the tightness of the tips on the nipples. This he did, pushing them with his finger and thumb until her nipples were gripped in jaws of crushing intensity.
He was not finished there however, far from it. Attached to the tweezers were lengths of thin chain and again turning to David he took from his outstretched hands two heavy lead weights. Holding the chains loose in his hand, he fixed a weight to the end of each chain... and then without warning suddenly dropped them. This time despite the all-restricting ball gag, a muffled squeal made itself heard. The weights hung swinging slowly and dragging her nipples down with them, pulled them out into long stretched parodies of their usual proud and solid selves.
Clamped, skewered and weighted Rosa's mammaries provided a prime example of Aztor's expertise, a picture of the perfect technique and execution of a master craftsman. And she should see it for herself he decided, and once again summoning David, he ordered him to bring something in which she could admire at his work. A few minutes after rushing off to obey Aztor's command, he re-appeared with another of the Disciples and between them they were carrying a giant ornately framed mirror. With the pair of them steadying it upright in front of her, Aztor commanded her to look into it.
No one but Rosa herself could know just what thoughts flooded through her brain at that moment, what passions and emotions were sent rushing through her sensory cortex. She took a swift glance and then turned her head away, trying to ignore the pain of the iron studs pressing into her back. They were now causing her more distress than the skewers, but she was held so tightly in the chains that that she was not able to alter her position by the slightest movement.
Winding the barrel forwards so that her head was tilted towards the mirror, Aztor again ordered her to look at her reflected image. It was both horrifying and exciting at the same time, her nerves jangling as she took in the sight of her chained body, clamped and skewered breasts and leather bound head. As for the skewers themselves, as one by one they had been pushed through her breast meat, the sensation had gradually changed from one of suffering to one of burgeoning eroticism, so much so that she had felt a wave of disappointment roll over her when he had pushed the last one home and it was obvious that there were to be no more.
Looking past the mirror, she saw that every Disciple and his slave had their eyes firmly fixed on her trussed and tortured figure. The atmosphere was electric and the tension almost unbearable, and she was the cause. All kinds of odd unreal feelings flooded her senses, not the least of them being pride. Pride that she had taken all the beast could give, and pride in her spectacular appearance. The clamps, the skewers and the way that she was displayed over the barrel thrilled her to the marrow and even to her, her image was breathtaking so she knew that the effect it was having on the onlookers must be awesome. None of it seemed real, it was all so strange and unbelievable and for a brief, frivolous moment she tried to convince herself that it was all a fantastic dream. But it was nothing like a dream, it was real, as she was soon to be rudely reminded.
He now had something really special for her, Aztor whispered. And she would like it more than anything that he had subjected her to so far. As he wound the barrel backwards, her head disappeared from view, followed by her breasts until he stopped it in a position where her sex stared him straight in the eye. Her bottom now lay on the top of the barrel with her spine stretched around its back, so that all that could be seen of her was her widespread legs and the entrance to Heaven that nestled between her thighs.
When, long before, she had been forced by Aslan Myerberg to steal a laptop from The Lodge, during the following hectic chase he had taken time to shave her pubic mound and labia. After they had rescued her and returned her to Madame Stalevsky, her Mistress had liked the result so much that she had forbidden her to grow her pubes ever again. So her sex and labia were now exactly as Aztor wanted them, baby smooth and completely hairless.
Using the back of his hand, he delivered a steady continuous and sustained series of smacks to her sex until her labia were swollen and reddened. Then he prized her fleshy outer sex lips apart with his fingers and clamped them open, before doing the same with her much more pliable inner lips. Her vagina was now stretched open into a hole about the diameter of a fifty pence piece and the hood of her clitoris was clearly visible. Pushing it back with his thumb and forefinger, he exposed the slumbering nub and stroked it into erection. Pulling it outwards, he then squeezed open another pair of tweezer clamps and allowed them to spring together over it, so preventing any possibility of it returning to the protection of its hood.
Hung over the back of the barrel, with the blood rushing to her head, Rosa could see none of this. But she could feel it. And again she was experiencing confused and contrasting feelings. She was in a smoke-laden horror of a medieval torture chamber, with an evil monster subjecting her to all kinds of torments and yet she was flushed with excitement. It was crazy but she could not stop herself from wondering what sort of spectacle she was presenting to the onlookers. It was as if she were willing The Disciples to be aroused by her helpless image, wanting every man there to lust after her and to covet her body. And if that was what she really wanted, then she had succeeded more than she would ever know.
And there was something else that she would never be privy to. Olivia was staring at her sex with fascinated interest. She had been fucked and abused, sometimes in the presence of other women, but she had very rarely seen another woman's sex from close at hand. She had not known that they could be so very different, and that difference was what was keeping her eyes glued to Rosa's displayed vagina. The penis-contoured dildo that was stuck into her own hole ceased being a major discomfort and took on a very different role as she attempted to stimulate herself by grinding her thighs together around it.
None of this was noticed by David who himself was deeply involved in Aztor's treatment of Rosa. Here was a Master at work, a man whose every action had to be followed in minute detail, what he was learning now he intended to put into practice himself as soon as he got the chance. Aztor turned away from his labours and beckoned David over, indicating that he wanted the candle that he had earlier put into his safe keeping.
After taking the candle and getting him to light it, Aztor waved David back to his position as an onlooker and went back to work on Rosa. Holding the candle high over her mons, he allowed red wax to drip onto the base of her belly at the point where it melded into her shaven pubic mound. Working quickly so that it did not harden before he was ready, he poured a pool of wax onto her flesh into which he could set the bottom of the candle, holding it in place until it was securely fixed. She had been subjected to torture by hot wax and needles before, so although she still could not see him she knew what he was doing, the initial heat of the falling wax and then the sensation as it solidified on her flesh being unmistakable.
About two inches high and three in diameter, the candle was stubby and burned bright with a smoky tip to the flame. Making doubly certain that it was held immovably in place, he then cranked the barrel towards him slightly so that Rosa's mons now sloped downwards. It was now very obvious to all exactly what would happen. As the pool of wax around the flame grew bigger, it would flow over the rim of the candle and run over her mons, her clamped-open labia and into her vagina. A masterly strategy indeed.
Rosa was finished with for the moment; he was now going to leave her alone to allow the candle wax to do its work. And while it was doing so, he was going to fuck Lolli! And then Melinda. But now it would not be purely as an act of vengeance against their masters but also because he really wanted to savour their succulent charms, unknowingly they had worked a little magic on him. However time was now running short, it was already well into the evening and in a few hours he had a rendezvous with an Arabian oil tanker that was waiting to smuggle him and his entourage to safety. But before he could leave, he had one further task for his most loyal follower to perform and he now sent him off to do it.
The Swiss bank confirmed to David that the ransom money had been transferred into The Children's account and now with some evil intent of his own he punched Oliver's number into the mobile phone and then handed it to Olivia. Completely frustrated by their lack of success in locating The Housegirls, Montague and Duke had awaited the promised telephone call with as much unconcealed anxiety as Carlisle himself. Their hope was that once freed, Olivia would be able to give them a clue as to where they were being held.
But when the call eventually did come, a far more dramatic scenario unfolded. It was from Olivia herself and Carlisle's face took on an ever-increasing look of incredulity as he listened to her words. After a few initial tearful moments at hearing her father's voice, Olivia's manner changed completely and seemingly happy beyond question, she thanked him for paying the ransom.
And then she dropped the bombshell.
She was staying with David, he was her Master and she could not even think of living a life that did not involve her serving him. And something wonderful had happened, she had been granted the ultimate privilege of being allowed into the presence of Aztor himself. She had watched as he had ravished and beaten Lolli, Melinda and Rosa, who she now knew were Housegirls from The Lodge and at Aztor's explicit command she asked Oliver to pass that information on to Montague DuPont.
But she had something even more incredible to tell him. In a brazen act of self-immolation and with David's full encouragement, she had offered herself as a sacrifice to him. Although she still could not believe it, as a special dispensation to David, his most faithful of servants he had plunged his penis into her and filled her with his holy sperm. She fervently hoped that a child was even now developing inside her.
As for the money, it would be handed over to Aztor because, like her master she was absolutely convinced that he would genuinely use it to save the world. And that was it. Except that David then took over the phone and asked to speak to Montague, it being immediately apparent that he had no doubt that he would be listening in on the conversation. And what he said was beyond any expectation that Montague had been holding, when after extracting a solemn promise from him that he and Duke would come alone, in a few brief words David gave him the precise location of the men responsible for the abductions of the girls.
Then he was gone.
Montague now knew that the man known as Aztor whom he had been pursuing in The States was now in England and it was for him that the three girls had been procured. And he had made very certain that Montague knew that he had used and abused them all. But Montague still had absolutely no idea why! His motive had to be personal but even though they obviously stood on opposite sides of the line separating good and evil, he could think of no possible direct connection between himself and Aztor.
The news that Olivia hoped to produce Aztor's child filled him with even more gloom. Olivia's mother had been the property of a Brother and so if she were to be with child, then that child would have both the blood of The Sons of Adam and that of their ancient adversary flowing through its veins. And that was something that he could never allow.
Aztor had not been foolhardy in telling David to reveal the location of the manor to Montague because he knew that once given, the sworn word of a Brother would never be broken and that Montague and Duke would attempt the rescue alone as they had promised. The Lodge was a considerable distance away and as all that remained for him to do was to soundly fuck all three of the sacrifices, by the time they arrived he would be long gone.
And the time for that fucking was now!
While Aztor had been working on Rosa, the two Arabs who had originally escorted her into the pit had taken their turn with Lolli, all six of his menacing entourage now having stuffed her full of cock. Some of the slaves had been detailed off to clean her up ready for their leader, they had licked every drop of sperm from her vagina and her anus with long eager tongues.
Releasing his own rock solid, rampant shaft from the captivity of his leather genital pouch, Aztor approached her with the rapacious intent of an untamed predator descending on its prey. He was not going to waste any time over ravaging the girls, he had unlimited time for that in the future. For the present he would be satisfied for each of them to feel their vaginas swelling as he filled them fuller than they had ever been filled before. He was a man vain beyond belief; a man who could never entertain the fact that perhaps another man was his equal in sexual prowess. As it happened, very few were.
With no preliminaries, he strode up to her and plunged straight in. Hanging immovably in the frame, she could do nothing as he battered her sex, paying no heed to her needs or to the fact that all through her ordeals at the hands of the Arabs she had been lusting for him. Him and his godlike cock. In and out, stroke after stroke he drove himself towards orgasm, once she was filled with his sperm he would move on to the others. But he was driving her with him and the only muscles she could bring into action, those in her vagina, clamped and tugged on his pistoning sex. But there was absolutely no way he was going to let her come, and relaxing his self-control he allowed his orgasm to overtake him. Spurt after spurt of his hot seed pumped into her and with her wildly screaming for release he pulled out.
"So much for you, bitch."
That was his only comment as he wiped the globules of spunk sticking to his bell-end on her pubes and moved on. He did not even throw her a backward glance and so the tears of frustration and disappointment that flooded her eyes went unnoticed.
Melinda was next. Caged, chained, and debased she had suffered greatly while at the same time eagerly awaiting further abuse from him. There could be no denying that he had scored a great victory with her, the thought of rescue long having fled from her mind. He spent several minutes in careful study of her and then delivered a devastating comment.
"No, I'm not going to fuck you, I'd have to release you and you look too good as you are for me to do that. In any case, you've already had more than your fair share. But you can watch while I fuck your friend."
So that left Rosa. As he had intended the wax had flowed downwards over her pudenda, coating her labia and filling her vagina. Picking up the sorely depleted candle, he dripped a final stream of wax over her belly before throwing it down. Very carefully peeling it away from her sex lips, he eased the solidified wax from her vagina, leaving an inviting wide-open hole that was more than ready to welcome his throbbing weapon.
But before he accepted that invitation he had another little treat in store for her. Cranking the barrel around just enough so that her breasts were presented to him, he stopped it in a position where he could reach them and still fill her with prick. Now sticking his weapon between her thighs, he eased his bell-end into her, at the same time weighing the lead weights dragging down on her nipples in his palms. Transforming his open palms into closed fists, he grasped the weights and began to tug on them. The pain was exquisite and so was the pleasure, that much was obvious by the juices that immediately began to trickle over his bell-end and flow from her vagina to run slowly down the length of his shaft that was still waiting to gain entry into her.
Letting both the weights drop and no doubt causing her intense agony, he slipped the rings holding the matchstick tweezers tightly clamped to her nipples back down their arms. As the clamps loosened, revealing the deep grooves that they had cut into her nuggets, she shuddered with relief and even managed a snorting whimper as he finally pulled them free.
Now was the time for the skewers that he had pushed through her breasts to come into their own. Making no attempt to penetrate her further, he left his penis as it was and taking hold of one of the skewers, he began to pull it from deep within her mound. The sensation as it slowly slid through and then out of her flesh was strangely different to the feeling she had experienced as it went in. There was still the actual discomfort and the disturbingly erotic mental reaction that went with it, but there was something else as well and that other feeling grew stronger as he slowly pulled one after another of the skewers from her breasts.
Although she could not understand why, she was forced to accept that she was finding the experience extremely arousing and all of its own volition her vagina began to tug at his penis. Aztor was well aware that he had lit the fuse to the powder keg between her legs and began thrusting upwards into her as he pulled each successive skewer from its torturous resting place in her breast. Chained over the barrel, gagged and completely helpless, Rosa could do nothing but accept exactly what he chose to do to her, much as she wanted to, there was no way that she could thrust herself on to him to further his penetration into her.
Deliberately holding back in order to allow her frustration to build, he finally pulled out the last of the skewers with his cock still only halfway buried inside her now frantically grasping vagina. That left the heavy industrial breast clamps and leaning on to her, he pushed in a little further as he reached for the thumbscrews that were keeping them crushing her tender flesh. Using both hands he began to turn the screws and as the pressure on her tits began to ease, she was hit by a sudden excruciating pain as the blood began to flow freely once more. The agony she felt was a hundred times greater than that she had experienced as he had clamped them on. And so was her sexual response.
He did not have to push, her vagina widened and lubricated itself to such an extent that as he leant against her, his penis slid swiftly and unaided right up to her womb. He was drawn along with her passion and as her vaginal muscles clamped and tugged on his manhood, he began reaming her with unbounded ardour. Building up to a gigantic climax, at the very moment of his ejaculation he ripped both clamps from her breasts, the excruciating pain providing the catalyst that catapulted her to a breathtaking, shuddering orgasm of her own.
Breathing hard himself, Aztor allowed his shaft to slacken and slip from her still twitching tunnel, before with his palms flat on the barrel he pushed himself upright. His sperm was dripping from her vagina and running down the insides of her thighs as he wound the barrel around for one full revolution, drinking in the sight of her captive and despoiled body. And then that was it. It was all over. When his thirsty eyes had drunk their fill of her, he turned and paraded up and down before his flock, accepting their wild applause and adulation with condescending gestures, finally signalling them into silence.
Standing before The Disciples, in a parody of a benediction, Aztor blessed the congregation and urged them to remain true to their vows of allegiance to him. To a man they roared their compliance, cheering him to the rafters, as he took his leave of them and strode up the steps leading out of the pit.
It was time to leave, not just for the Spacegod but for everyone. As newly appointed leader of The Children of Aztor, with Olivia at his side, David led The Disciples away from the manor to start the search for a new base from which they could carry on their mission. The twelve slave girls were shackled together and after they had been loaded into the cattle truck in which they had originally been transported to the manor, two of the Arabs climbed into the cab and rattled off. Although none of them had seen the face that lay behind the golden mask, Lolli, Melinda and Rosa would have needed little encouragement to go with Aztor of their own free will. Nevertheless they were blindfolded and thrown naked and securely bound into the back of a vehicle that would not attract unwanted attention, an ordinary white Transit van, with three of the remaining Arabs as their guards. With the last of his henchmen driving one of the Amazon Land Cruisers, Aztor sat by his side as they set off to rendezvous with the others at a port where the tanker awaited them.


After a hair-raising high-speed dash to the manor, Duke's Aston Martin Vanquish squealed to a halt outside the building, and leaping out he and his father pulled their guns as they raced towards the entrance doors. But there was no resistance, the doors were open and the eerie, silent interior was seemingly devoid of life. Warily crossing the great hall and scanning every inch of the way for possible danger, they eventually found the entrance to the pit.
With Montague leading the way, they stepped down into the flickering, torch-lit torture chamber. In any other circumstances he would have been elated by the scene that revealed itself to his gaze, the possibilities that presented themselves were endless to a man with an inventive mind such as his. But not now.
And then he saw them! Peter and James. They had been tied out in the X configuration which both Duke and Montague were so familiar with, albeit they preferred to see the female form displayed in whipping frames. Both of them had been gagged and beaten and an improvised hand-written sign hung from Peter's neck.
Montague came close and began to read the message out loud.
"Mr. DuPont, this is how I deal with my enemies, something you might like to bear in mind.
"I'm sorry if you expected to find your women here but as they are far too exotic for little men like you, I'm taking them with me. I guarantee to use them well so their lives will be more interesting from now on. As for the other girl, she was taken by mistake and is of no interest to me. You will find her in the underground dungeon.
"I look forward to meeting you in person."
Then, his face blackening into a thunderous expression and his voice taking on a tone of fury, he read the final line.
"In the meantime remember that the best man won."
For a few moments total silence reigned as he allowed the full force of the message to impact itself upon himself and Duke.
"And it's signed, Aztor."

Those were his final words, after all what more was there to say?
They had been bettered and that was that. They could not even say that they had been double-crossed, the caller had only said that they would find the girls' kidnappers at the manor, he had not made any mention of the girls themselves. Still not any the wiser as to exactly who Aztor was and why he hated them so intensely, they vowed to avenge themselves and their women using any and every means at their disposal. But there was no use in denying that perhaps Lolli, Melinda and Rosa had been lost to them forever.
Although sickened to their hearts, Montague and Duke's first priority now was to return an outwardly traumatised Rebecca to the safety of The Lodge. Once there she was immediately whisked away by Madame Stalevsky, who although greatly distressed by the turn of events, nevertheless intended to take great care of the one girl who had been rescued. And so a fifth column had been established in the heart of Brotherhood territory.
All in all, Aztor had had a very good day.

Twelve: January 1st

AT THE LODGE everything had to appear normal, even more so because when Rosa had been taken by Myerberg the news had leaked out and caused genuine disquiet among the members, some of whom feared for their own well being and anonymity. They had been assured that no such event would ever be allowed to happen again and the amazingly sophisticated security now in operation had convinced everyone that there was no possibility of their safety being compromised.
But despite all the precautions, although not actually on the premises, it had happened again and this time it was absolutely vital that it be kept secret, not the slightest suspicion that anything untoward had occurred could be allowed to surface. Besides the blow of losing the girls the whole reputation of The Lodge was at stake, so the merrymaking was allowed to continue unabated until as the last stroke of Big Ben ushered in the new year Montague and Duke were called urgently to the IT suite.
Madame Stalevsky was waiting for them and hurriedly explained that the CIA had at last positively satisfied itself as to the identity of the man calling himself Aztor and was now in the process of transmitting a video of him that had been recorded during his stay at the Penn State Penitentiary. In grim anticipation they gathered closely around the monitor screen as the video image took shape.
The eyes that stared defiantly out at them were cruel and black as midnight and long greasy hair framed a cold, emotionless face. A vivid raised scar ran down the man's left cheekbone, from the corner of his eye to his mouth. A cigarette was hanging from his thin lips and the hand that lifted to light it held an old American Armed Forces Zippo lighter. As he walked towards the camera, he displayed a pronounced limp, a limp that he had not had before Duke had shot him in both legs.
It was unbelievable, but there could be absolutely no doubt as to his identity. There was a moment's silence and then as one, three disbelieving voices rasped out the same name:

"Aslan Myerberg!"

Afterword

Police constable Edward Jones eased his crash helmet off and breathed deeply. High speed pursuits like the one he had just been involved in did not occur every day, thankfully. Flagging down an innocent looking Transit for doing forty in a thirty mile-an-hour limit, he had been amazed when the vehicle had sped off, nearly knocking him off his motorbike. But he had set off in pursuit and now, although the driver and passenger had fled, he had at least found the van itself. As he walked towards it he heard muffled noises coming from the rear and carefully, almost dreading what he might find, he opened the door.
The three naked, blinfolded and trussed women who lay inside had obviously had a bad day as well to judge by the state they were in.
P.C. Jones reached for his radio. "Sarge, I think you'd better get down here, pronto."