Six Masters Island - De Lucia's Slaves Page 4

  The conversation on the brief ride in the elevator was humiliating to both the girls. “How is she doing?” Dawson asked.

  “It will take some work, but she already lubricates with the whip. How’s the cat?”

  “Fallon is practicing tightening her loose, sloppy pussy for me,” Dawson replied.

  Sienna looked into her brother’s eyes. She had not yet formed her opinion of his girl. Humiliation… very good. “You’re always quick to diagnose,” she smiled. She gripped Fallon’s chin. “You got a gaping cunt on you, girl? A few too many country boys bend you over the fences?”

  Fallon tried to pull her eyes away from the horrible woman’s gray gaze. Dawson said, “Nod for the Mistress, Fallon. Let her know that sloppy big pussy could not even empty the noodle last night.” Both Master and Mistress were aroused by the pitiful sob and the reluctant nod the girl offered.

  Fallon was terrified, and she turned to see Andrea crying for her humiliation. In high school, there had been two boys, and only one quick lover from work, until Fallon discovered he was married. Is there something wrong with me? Did one of them stretch me out too much? She thought about Ricky Arnold. He had hurt, but she thought it was because it had been the first time.

  The girls were led down one of the many integrated hallways for servants, allowing them to traverse the house without going through the main sections and rooms. A door towards the end opened up to a kitchen where two cooks and a naked serving girl were working.

  “Other two aren’t down yet, Dawson. Good morning, Sienna.”

  “Good morning, Lucille. You don’t mind if we tie them off and have our coffee?”

  “No miss. I’ll wait until the other two show up to feed them, if that’s all right.”

  “That would be fine,” Dawson responded.

  “Lucille, this is Andrea. If she misbehaves, she enjoys a little smack to correct her,” Sienna said as she pushed Andrea down to her knees and chained the front of her collar to the wall, with her welted bottom resting on her calves.

  “Do you have a rag?” Dawson asked. Fallon felt herself being pushed down next to Andrea and clipped to the wall. “This is Fallon, Lucille. She has a loose pussy and I’m afraid she’ll leak my juice all over your clean floor.”

  Lucille noticed the girl shudder and heard a sob of humiliation. Those were always her favorite, though a wooden spoon would certainly find Andrea’s bottom before breakfast was through. Lucille spread a rag beneath Fallon and hissed, “If that big pussy of yours drips, it had better be on that rag.”

  Dawson ordered, “You both are to obey the cooks in our absence, and there will be absolutely no talking or breakfast is over and the gags go back in.” The wet sponges were finally removed from their mouths, but other than quivering sniffles, the girls did not plead or speak. Andrea and Fallon stared at each other, commiserating their disgrace with the situation.

  A few minutes later, Courtney and Megan were led in. Courtney had an old cloth diaper with oversized pins and a bib that read, ‘I pee myself’. Her big blue eyes were red from crying, and the look of innocence on the small girl made Lucille’s pussy clench and moisten. She was thrilled to have two humiliations to work with, and she waited for Brian to announce Megan’s talent. Lucille noticed the slightly glazed look of overwhelming senses, a sign of shutting down. So soon? Too bad. “Salvageable?”

  “I don’t think so, Lucille. She’s just slow and needs to figure out how to assimilate. I think she’s going to wind up either being boringly accepting of everything when she snaps out of it, or a total loss. Can you have the slave feed her if she doesn’t get the hang of it?”

  “Yes, Brian. I’ll have the girl tend to her after your breakfast is served.”

  The girls knelt and Lucille put ceramic bowls in front of them. Cold oatmeal was plopped into them, with no milk or sugar. What the mash did contain was a daily dose of birth control and extra powdered nutrients that they would need for the stamina required for training. A small bowl of water was placed between Andrea and Fallon to share, and another between Courtney and Megan. Lucille said, “I’d go easy on the water, little miss diaper.” Courtney issued another of her endless sobs with her big blue eyes spilling tears, and Lucille thought the pale, fragile creature was lovely.

  Megan merely stared at the concrete block wall in front of her, until halfway through breakfast when she suddenly balked and pulled back against her collar and chain, screaming in terror. “Let me go… oh, god… I don’t belong here.”

  Megan was shrieking and straining, knocking into Courtney and causing her to wail again, until Brian dashed into the room and jammed the sponge back into her mouth. “That was quick,” he grinned.

  Lucille shrugged. “Guess she missed her friends. You want her food sent up to your room later?”

  Brian was busy short chaining Megan to the wall so her nose touched the stones and she could not thrash around. “That would be fine.” He rose and walked back to the dining room.

  The three other petrified women ceased their crying and tried to return to shoveling the pasty mash into their mouths with their tongues. They took turns lapping water, and Courtney realized in horror that without Megan drinking she had finished the entire bowl herself.

  Lucille picked up the empty container and chuckled. “Good luck today, diaper girl.”

  The men and woman collected their women and hooked the leashes back to the collars, and they once more traveled the back down the hallway to the elevator. Megan had not exactly returned to her shocked, silent state, but she was no longer thrashing around or shrieking. She was crying and pleading behind the horrible gag, and it reminded the other women to remain quiet.

  Sienna recognized that the girl Brian was stuck with would quickly follow his instructions to offset her fear. He was in for a boring three months. She whispered, “Sorry, Brian.”

  Brian shrugged, and whispered back, “If she doesn’t shut down, you’ve got her last, Sienna. By then, you’ll have nothing to work with, and you will be forced to train her as a house servant. At least I can look forward to rotating to the others.”

  Fallon was nervous when the rest of the group exited the elevator to go back down their halls, and Dawson held her back. He pushed another button and she felt the elevator sink into the mountain. When the doors opened, they were on a floor that had carved rock for hallways, much like the tunnel the tram had zipped down, but not as wide.

  He pulled her leash and she nervously followed him down the dark corridor, which had fewer lights than the strip illuminating the cave’s entrance below. The rock under her feet was smooth and cool, and she smelled the dampness of underground while they walked. There were heavy wooden doors set into the rock on either side as they continued to follow the hallway towards the blackness ahead. At last, the man turned and opened a door, and Fallon blinked at the lights of a brightly lit room.

  It reminded her of a clinic type setting, except the table was polished metal with none of the crinkly white tissue. Fallon eyed the stirrups nervously, and Dawson had to yank on the leash to get her attention so that her feet would move forward. He brought her to the end of the table. “Lie down.”

  Fallon looked behind her and began to scoot back on the cold surface, but before she could lower, the man gripped her collar and pulled her face to his. “The response is, ‘Yes, Master’.”

  He felt the tense muscles in her throat swallow nervously, and waited for a moment for her shocked mind to understand the order. When no sound emitted from the trembling mouth, he reached down and pinched her pussy lips and twisted. She shrieked in agony and tried to kick herself free from the pain but he was standing between her thighs, continuing the agonizing grip and staring at her.

  “Stop… oh, god… please,” she sobbed. He continued the fierce hold, and her fists clenched behind her at the horrible, twisting pain, while her mind fought to determine a way to end the torment. “Please,” she wailed.

  “Answer me properly when I give you an order,” he
demanded.

  Fallon’s mind reeled back to his words. “Yes, yes, Master,” she wailed. The grip let go and residual numbness of blood filling the tender flesh made her gasp.

  “Lie down,” Dawson ordered.

  Once more, Fallon trembled and began to lower, and once more the fingers grabbed her swollen sex. “Yes, Master,” she quickly recovered, and the fingers loosened. Fallon cried quietly and lay back until her head rested on the table. She was as terrified as she could ever remember being, and confused when the man’s eyes shone with pleasure at her fear. Fallon was already beginning to understand that no amount of pleading or begging was going to move this man, and her only ability to lessen his tortures lie in following his demands.

  An older woman walked into the room, dressed in a black cashmere sweater and tight black slacks, with heels and gold hoop earrings. Fallon guessed her to be in her late fifties, though she was extremely fit and her face was just beginning to line with age. She had cold blue eyes that held the same fascinated, aroused look as the people who had captured her.

  “It’s good to have you back, Dawson.” She leaned forward and accepted a peck on her cheek.

  “Thanks for watching things while we were gone, Adela.”

  The woman walked towards Fallon, and she could see the woman’s eyes dilate with excitement at her trembling, and Fallon cringed at the icy, blue gaze. “Lucille tells me this one has a gaping cunt.” Fallon let out a sob of humiliation and it looked like the woman devoured it, with a pleasing, satisfied smile.

  “I’m working on strengthening her muscles. She was just a pump whore from one of the little Midwestern towns where they have nothing to do but fuck each other.”

  Fallon gasped at the crude statement and wanted to deny the terrible words. The two of them stared at her, and she realized that was exactly what they were waiting for… and then, they’ll do something horrible to me. Fallon sealed her lips and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut them out.

  “I need her initial grooming and measurements.”

  “Ringed?” Adela asked.

  “I don’t want to squeeze your schedule,” Dawson replied.

  “The others are taking their time. Sienna booked for tomorrow, and then Richard the day after. I haven’t heard from Brian yet.”

  “His girl is vacillating on him. She snapped out of it a little this morning, but she’s still unstable.”

  Adela looked down. “That’s too bad.” She looked up and smiled, “Well, hopefully, we’ll find some trait to exploit. Anyway, that gives us plenty of time to do a full work up on your girl, and save you a few trips down here. You may have to alter her training for a few days.”

  “Not with what I have planned,” Dawson answered.

  “Right, let’s see what we’re working with, then.” The woman walked to the foot of the table, and noted the frightened woman still had her eyes closed. Even through the smeared makeup and grime since the capture, Adela could see the girl had good potential, and she smiled appreciatively at Dawson… and on top of that, she responded to humiliation… always a Master’s favorite. “Feet in the stirrups, girl.”

  Fallon cringed and remained rigidly straight, continuing her mantra that none of this was real. She felt a piercing shock at the top of her slit and shrieked as she bent her legs to her chest to protect herself. The next shock hit at the exposed strip of skin between her channel and her anus, and she wailed and opened her eyes in fright. The woman cocked an eyebrow over her smiling blue eyes. “The correct response is, ‘Yes, Mistress’.”

  Oh, god… oh, god what kind of nightmare is this? Fallon saw a thin metal wand approaching her privates, and deduced that it was the source of the piercing jolts. She quickly placed her feet in the holders, forcing her shaking thighs to spread. “Yes, Mistress,” she blurted, and waited anxiously, watching the wand. She gave another sob, this one relief, as the wand disappeared into a pocket of the slacks.

  The woman hooked the rings on the bottom of the ankle cuffs to the stirrups. Dawson flipped the woman a key, and she rolled Fallon onto her side to unhook her wrist cuffs. She thought about fighting, but with her ankles secured and the man standing so close, she realized the futility of such an action and did not want to imagine the consequences.

  “Put your arms over your head,” the woman ordered.

  Fallon began to comply, and her eyes widened when the woman reached for her pocket. “Yes, Mistress,” she said quickly, and the woman smiled and walked to the head of the table. Fallon tried to turn her head to see what she was doing as she felt her cuffs locked together and attached to some kind of chain rising up from the floor. The chain ratcheted down, pulling her arms until they tightened against her ears, holding her head in position. Fallon finally let out a gasp as the stretch became painful, and the woman ran a finger down the muscles in her arms, gave the winch two more clicks, and locked it in place.

  It hurts… please, it hurts… please loosen it, Fallon pleaded silently with her green eyes filling. The woman leaned over a few inches from her face and watched her. “Pretty eyes, Dawson.” Adela straightened, and as she buckled thick straps over the girl’s hips and below and above her breasts, she said, “The arms should keep her distracted a bit.”

  Fallon’s head was wedged between her arms, and she listed her eyes sideways to plead uselessly to Dawson. He ignored her and said, “She should have a good shape to her after the exercises.”

  Dawson rose and walked to the end of the table, behind Adela who was standing between the spread thighs. Fallon tried nervously to look down but could not bend to see below their chests. Her eyes widened when she felt the cold metal bars of a speculum inserted into her channel, and she blushed furiously while Dawson’s gaze took in the whole procedure.

  Adela said, “No need to go easy on sizes… this is not a little girl you’re working with, and she can handle it without causing damage. You will have to work on keeping these muscles tight, though. They tend to want to stretch for the woman’s comfort, which is, of course, totally unacceptable.”

  “I figured as much, with her long legs and wider hips. I’ve already planned her training around the exercises.”

  Fallon felt her feet pushed towards her chest, exposing her privates even more lewdly, and she began to softly cry. Her eyes closed again in escape, and she shuddered when the metal bars pushed into her rectum. As the instrument spread, she wailed in displeasure. Fallon was surprised when a hand gripped her chin, and she opened her eyes to the gray stare. “Quiet, the doctor needs to concentrate. If you do not silence that wailing, I will gag you again.”

  Fallon tried to seal her lips, contorting her face in pain. “Acknowledge me, Fallon,” he warned.

  “Yyyes, Master,” she stuttered. She closed both her eyes and her lips in misery. Just yesterday, she had been sitting in an interview, making plans for an exciting future away from Lewisville. Now, she had been abducted by some terrifying people, and Fallon was pretty sure that none of the girls would ever be found. She thought about the minimal evidence at the airport, and of the four girls laughing on the ride to the interview when they had discovered that none of them had mentioned the meeting to anybody because they were still afraid it would fall through. Fallon tried to press her arms even closer to her ears so that she would not have to listen to the woman’s clinical explanation to the man of how much he could torture her bottom.

  She felt some thick warm coating cover her pussy lips, under her arms and down her legs, and a cloth was draped over her face. What felt like a lamp heated her body, closer and warmer, until the chemical spread on her began to burn. She tried to squirm and hitched silent sobs as the heat became unbearable, finally causing her to scream. She had no idea that Dawson and Adela had retreated into the office for a drink while they let the chemical cook her follicles for fifteen long minutes.

  Adela turned off the lamp from her console in the office, and they finished their drinks to give the girl time to ‘cool down’. By the time they returned, she
was merely sobbing in a hoarse voice, and Adela lifted the drape off of her face and began peeling off the substance, ripping out the burned follicles as she removed it. She smiled down at the traumatized woman. “You will be pleased that is a procedure that you only experience one time.” She waited. “Acknowledge me, girl.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Fallon rasped out.

  The woman approached her with a laser instrument, and permanently shaped her brows, arching them to perfectly show off the cat green eyes that were undoubtedly the girl’s most unique feature. She stood and rolled a metal cart beside the table. “Have you decided on the rings?”

  “Nipples and clit, of course.”

  Fallon felt her pussy lips lightly squeezed. “She has plenty of meat on her labia. Sienna will have it done when she sees them anyway, to expose her for whipping.”

  Dawson ran his hands through his hair. “Might as well go ahead, then. I’ll already have to wait for the rest to heal, so there’s no sense in delaying Sienna’s training unnecessarily.”

  Fallon was still shocked and recuperating from the peeling, and the words the horrible people were speaking did not sink in until she saw the woman lift up forceps and a needle. “No,” she shrieked in her raspy voice. “Please,” she begged.

  The doctor glanced at the girl’s ears and turned to Dawson and smiled. No pierced holes for earrings, and the only women who had come through the training like that were terrified of needles. Dawson had noticed the same trait, and he knew that Adela would pass the information onto Brian. His brother became euphoric over that particular slow torture.

  “You will thank Mistress Adela for each of the beautiful rings,” Dawson ordered.

  The green eyes were wide with panic as the forceps squeezed the base of one dusky rose nipple. Fallon snapped and screamed, “Please… please let me go home.” As the long needle approached the standing bud, she shrieked.