Six Masters Island - De Lucia's Slaves Read online

  Adela’s eyes never stopped gazing at her trembling target, and she squeezed the forceps constricting the blood in the spongy dark tip, and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth in ecstasy when the girl screamed as the needle pushed through. By the time she absorbed the girl’s panicked wails with the insertion of the ring, her panties were damp. Fresia, the little slave bound and hanging in Adela’s quarters, was in for a workout when she was finished.

  Fallon wailed miserably when the forceps clamped down on her other nipple, and she began sobbing nonsensical pleas… anything she thought they might want to hear, to make them stop. “Ppplease… Mmmaster… nnno,” the needle steadily progressed to the tip. “Nnno… oh, god… ppplease, Mmmistress.”

  Adela finished inserting the other ring, and smiled sadistically at the shining green eyes drenched with tears from her fright and misery. She leaned down and said, just loud enough for Dawson to hear, “Let’s get that little clitty of yours hard enough to handle a good grip.”

  “Aaaah… oh, god… oh, god no. Please…” Fallon shrieked in terror.

  “As much as I’m enjoying her compliments, I think you’ll have to gag her so I can concentrate for this,” Adela chuckled as she rolled the table towards Fallon’s hips and walked between her thighs.

  Dawson retrieved a gag, and Fallon begged when he pushed it towards her mouth. “Please… please don’t let her… I’ll do anything.”

  Her pleading was silenced by the muffling sponge, and Dawson stroked her forehead until her eyes widened and she shrieked at the squeeze of the forceps on the base of her clit. “You’ll do whatever I desire anyway, Fallon. As I have already told you, I control everything you say, think and feel.”

  She screamed behind the absorbent wall of the gag while her clit and labia were pierced, but Dawson and Adela both noticed she never lost consciousness through her terror. “Sienna might be able to double trait this one for pain,” Adela noted.

  “Not if we can’t control the screaming.”

  Adela’s aroused icy glare looked up at him. “Some of us enjoy the music, Dawson.” She turned to the sobbing girl on the table, and with professional proficiency she began unstrapping her and she re-hooked her wrists behind her. After one more swipe with an antiseptic healing lotion, she announced the torture over and reminded Dawson to watch for the usual signs of infection. Dawson unbuckled the gag and pulled Fallon towards the hall.

  CHAPTER III

  Fallon trembled in pained misery as Dawson led her back towards the elevator. He was very pleased she had not regressed into a panicked state of denial that would require him to patiently backtrack his training. The screaming and tears were a totally rational and acceptable state for her to be in at this stage.

  He had called Demano from the doctor’s office, to check on his schedule. For the rest of the afternoon, Fallon would be left in other hands while the family handled the public side of their business affairs. As they exited the elevator, Dawson brought Fallon out onto the balcony where her friends were all kneeling on the tile. She was pushed down next to Megan who was no longer gagged but still looking wildly around.

  Fallon realized Dawson had walked away from her and was heading down the hall towards his suite. Her head snapped around when the muscle bound man in the tight leather pants began to speak. “I am Master Demano, and I own you in the afternoons. My training will get you in top physical condition, so you will be better able to please your Masters and Mistress. Stamina is an important requirement of your conditioning, as well as a tight, strong appearance.”

  Without warning, Megan rose and ran towards the balcony. Her intention was obvious, and all of the girls screamed in horror. Ten feet from the edge, Megan came to an abrupt halt and she stiffened and shrieked, falling to the ground and writhing. Arturo strode calmly towards her, and drew an invisible line on the tile about a foot back towards the other girls. “Your collar must be on this side of the barrier for the correction to stop.”

  He left Megan shrieking and twisting on the floor, and turned towards the other wailing girls. “Stop that noise. It is irritating.” He was pleased when they reduced to sniffles. The girls continued to focus on Megan, who occasionally jerked on the ground, and finally began pushing her feet on the tile, trying to slide her prone body away from the agony. Demano continued, “All of the windows and doors… and the balcony, of course… have a security measure installed for your safety. Your Masters are investing much time and money into your training, and will not see it wasted on an impulsive accident.”

  Demano turned to see Megan out of the shocking zone and quivering with her knees curled to her chest. “Megan, get back into position, or I will use the remote if you choose to enjoy your collar’s abilities.” His accent was very thick, and Fallon had no idea of its origin. Megan sobbed and dragged herself back to her place beside Fallon, and when Fallon tried to scoot closer to console her, Demano warned, “You have enough to worry about with your own training.”

  “Now, in the warmer weather, we will train out here to give your body a pleasing color from the sun. There is an inside room on a lower floor for inclement weather and winter. Everyone look over here.” The girls’ eyes followed him to where a large, round metal disk lay on the floor with two chains hanging from one edge of a matching disk suspended over it from the ceiling, and two strewn on the edge of the surface of the disk on the floor. “If anyone needs correcting for not following my instructions, they will be spread and hung from these disks. They turn very slowly, with half of the arch beyond the collar’s boundary. Would you like to demonstrate the device for your friends, Megan?”

  “No,” she shrieked and began to back away.

  Demano stormed up to her and grabbed her collar. “No, Master.”

  “No… no, Master,” her panicked voice gasped.

  Demano patted her head. “Very good.” He looked down at the thin woman’s body, noting small breasts with no muscle tone, slim hips which produced little curve for a waist, and a flat ass. “I think you might try hard to get your body strengthened for your Master.”

  Demano unhooked their wrists and led them through two hours of stretching and slow exercises. Through the months working with him, the maneuvers became more demanding and strenuous as their bodies lengthened and tightened.

  Over the course of their time with him, none of the women ever tried to run away, as exercise class and the bathing that followed were the only time the women could sometimes whisper to each other. As time wore on, there seemed to be less and less they needed to say.

  After Demano was finished, he clipped their wrists behind them again. Leashes were attached to all four collars, and gripped in one of his big hands. The girls followed him silently to the elevator, eyeing each other nervously when his thumb touched the pad. They sank into the mountain, and exited on the floor that Fallon thought the clinic was on. He led them down to the door at the end of the long corridor, and it opened to a room softly lit, with padded tables scattered around it.

  “Groomers, come,” Demano ordered. Five naked young women appeared from behind them, and knelt before the trainer with their hands clasped behind their backs and their chests thrust forward. “Anna, you will take care of Courtney. Beth can take Megan, Veronica and Andrea, and Heather and Fallon.” Demano turned to the frightened women. “You will follow the slaves’ instructions or be punished.” He waited a moment, “Acknowledge me, slaves. I will not remind you again.”

  “Yes, Master,” the quivering voices replied.

  Heather was a tiny brunette with no outstanding features. Her eyes held dulled acceptance of her situation, and Fallon found herself wondering how long ago she had been captured. After Demano unhooked the leashes, he lay back on a sofa with the fifth girl kneeling between his legs.

  “Come,” Heather said in a soft voice. When she determined they were out of Demano’s earshot, she whispered, “Relax while you’re here. It is the only time you have away from their training.” They followed behind the other girls with their groomers beside them, until they crossed the room to a sloping sandy bottom that descended into a warm underground spring. “The water is constantly irrigated and exits down the mountain somewhere. The Masters are convinced the mineral water heals, and it is warm, even in the winter,” Heather told her.

  Fallon tried to move towards Andrea, and Heather grabbed her arm. “Our station is over here.”

  It felt odd to have the girl wash her, leaning her back into the warm water and drenching her hair, and then raising her to shampoo and soap her body with floral scented washes. Heather was careful around the new piercing, and Fallon stared at a distant wall when the girl nudged her legs apart to wash her nude pussy. There was no sense in arousing Demano’s anger, for something that finally did not hurt.

  When they were done in the spring, Heather led her, dripping water as she walked, across the stone floor to a table. She toweled her dry and had her lie on her back, and lifted her hair until it cascaded over the top of the table. The girl began to brush out her tangled wet hair, and Fallon fell asleep. She awoke for a brief moment sometime later when Heather applied antiseptic to the new rings. She whispered, “Rest… rest, Fallon. They will bring you back every day of your training, so remember you will have this brief time.”

  Fallon’s eyes closed again, and she felt the small hands rubbing lotion all over her body. Even with her arms crushed beneath her back, it felt wonderful. Heather grabbed an upper arm and lifted. “It’s time to turn over, and you need to be careful of your rings. The pain goes away in a few days.” The small hands kneaded her back, and Fallon drifted into exhausted sleep again. She had no idea how long she slept, when Heather stroked her hair and said softly, “You need to sit up, Fallon. Demano told me Master Dawson wants your hair in a braid.”

  Fallon yawned while the girl brushed her dry hair, and realized she must have slept for quite a while. When the braid was secured, Heather steadied her so she could stand. Before she guided her to Demano, she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. As long as Master Dawson approves of my work, I will always be the slave to groom you. They are frightening, these people, so I hope the time you spend here helps you, and is a time you can think of when you must let your mind wander away from their demands.”

  Over the course of the year, Fallon learned that Heather had groomed seven slaves, meaning she had been living in the mountain that many years. She never offered Fallon any hope of escaping, but was tender and kind, listening to her cry and carefully ministering to any physical trauma from the training. It was the only time Fallon could relax, and the Masters never threatened to take the time away as punishment… there were many other torments available to accomplish that.

  Demano brought the girls back to the kitchen, and hooked them to the wall under Lucille’s watchful eye. The cook looked at the cleaned up girls and noted Fallon’s new rings. The girl with her cat eyes was much prettier than she had first thought, with very long legs and the makings of a good figure. The redhead was tall also, but stockier, with heavy bones that would make her more sturdy than appealing. As a pain slut, it was a good stature for the girl to have.

  Lucille continued to prepare their mash, and studied the other two. Courtney was little girl cute, with long white blonde hair, big blue eyes and a perfect woman miniature shape. She would most likely end up in a harem, more for her petite sexual appeal and obedience. Megan… she would be difficult. The bleach blonde hair would be shaved off, allowing her natural dull brown to grow out. She would most likely end up an obedient De Luca house servant, and if not brought to auction, she would then be under Lucille’s control.

  The Masters were already dining, and would pick up their slaves on the way back to their rooms. Lucille dished out the dessert and ordered the serving girl to bring the tray into the other room, and to let them know that their slaves were in the kitchen.

  While Andrea and Fallon leaned over the tasteless pasty gruel, Andrea whispered, “Fallon, we have to get out of here.”

  “Andrea… the collars.”

  “Sienna has a bunch of computers in her room. I’m going to try to figure out how to get to them and e-mail someone.”

  “Be careful… they probably have something figured into the collar if we get too near to them. These guys design technology and security, from what I’ve gathered. Besides, even if you get a message out, we don’t know where we are,” Fallon whispered.

  “Harkson Industries uses De Lucia encryption, so if I can get an e-mail to management, somebody there should know how to find us. Fallon, I’ll die if I stay with this woman.”

  Fallon cringed at the despair in Andrea’s voice. She was always so strong. “Let me know what I can do to help.” She felt slightly cowardly by not mentioning Dawson also had computers, but Fallon knew that given the chance, she would be too afraid to go near them.

  They finished their meal in silence, trying to figure out a way to escape and letting fear fill them again as their bowls emptied. The Masters came into the kitchen to collect their slaves, and Courtney began silently crying again. Richard slid two fingers under her collar, inhaling the clean hair and feeling his cock harden at the freshly pink cheeks of her anguish. “How do you stand, Courtney?” She shuddered a little sob and spread her trembling legs, and cried when his finger stroked through her slit. “That’s my good little slave girl,” he cooed.

  The women were led back upstairs to the rooms of their Masters, and Fallon sank into despair as the heavy door was closed. Her leash was unhooked and hung by the door, next to a biotech panel. Fallon had not noticed that the doors opened by the same technology as the elevator, and she thought briefly of Andrea trying to get by the maze of security to the computers. The other technology the girls were unaware of was the microphone hidden in their collars.

  The Masters had already discussed over dinner allowing Andrea her attempt. Sienna would restrain her in an easily compromised fashion in the main room of her suite and watch Andrea from her monitor in the bathroom while showering. Dawson led Fallon to the bathroom, and left her chained to links hanging from the ceiling with her toes barely touching the ground. He retreated to the other room to place his call, and when he returned to his distraught slave he was smiling.

  Fallon was lowered with her wrists left unhooked, and he ordered her to follow him into the other room. “Back straight, eyes lowered and hands clasped behind your back,” he instructed. Fallon assumed the correct position, and nervously passed by the torturous equipment. Dawson sat in one of the comfortable chairs in the seating area, with Fallon standing in front of him.

  “Kneel,” he ordered. Fallon lowered to her knees on the carpet and focused on his feet. “Spread your knees so I can see your pussy.” Fallon shuddered and turned bright red as she split herself slightly open. “More, slave. You have very little worth other than your cunt, so you will make sure that your Master can view you to remind them why you deserve their attention.” Dawson waited while the girl’s eyes filled again. There would be a lot of tears during the first few weeks. “Clasp your hands behind your back and acknowledge me,” he sighed.

  “Yes, Master,” Fallon managed. Her eyes flickered from his shoes to the swollen lips between her spread thighs, and she shuddered at the sight of the metal rings. The pain had reduced to a throbbing ache, and she glanced at her nipples.

  “Present,” he ordered. “Turn around and raise your bottom, face down on the floor with your arms stretched out in front of you.” Fallon turned, and he heard the sob as she sprawled on the floor with her backside raised. “Spread your thighs and acknowledge me,” he warned.

  “Yes, Master,” she mewled, and she shuffled her knees apart. Fallon squeezed her eyes closed as she faced the carpet, and felt his fingers stroking her slit, carefully avoiding her piercing.

  “When you present, you will be lubricated, Fallon. A Master does not want to be looking at a dry passage; they want to know that you are prepared and anticipating their usage.”

  Fallon felt the finger stroking, coaxing her wetness, and she trembled and felt the silent tears fall while she clenched her fists. “Repeat to me why you stay wet.”

  No… I can’t say those things. I have to get out of here. “Aaahh,” she screamed, when a finger slipped through the labial rings and pulled.

  “Say the words, Fallon. Tell me you stay wet so that your Master does not find a dry passage. Tell me you want to stay prepared and ready for my use of you.” Dawson rubbed his cock, turgid and pressing against his zipper with the girl’s growing anxiety and debasement. He tugged again.

  “Oh, god,” she wailed. “I… I… I need to stay wet… Oh… Oh… I need to stay wet so you do not find a dry passage, so that you know I am prepared and ready for your use of me,” she sobbed.

  “Master,” Dawson affirmed.

  “Master,” Fallon quickly uttered.

  “For a short time, I will let you use one of your hands to accomplish this. Eventually, you will learn which muscles and thoughts will result in your moistness without external manipulation. You are expected to be slick when you kneel before me as well.” Dawson waited, and then stroked across the ring in her clit. Fallon almost dropped from the pain. “Acknowledge me, dammit,” he demanded.

  “Yes, Master,” Fallon practically shrieked.

  Dawson was ready to explode, and Fallon shuddered when she heard the metal zipper opened. He aimed his shaft towards her hole, and grabbed her hips as he slid into her. “Squeeze me,” he threatened.

  “Yes, Master,” she sobbed into the carpet, and Dawson was pleased with the clench. Her muscles were still strained from the night’s training, but she was making a delightfully pulsing effort.

  Fallon’s nipples brushed the carpet with his plunging, and she cried softly as his strokes increased in depth and frequency. The hands gripping her hips pulled her back, sliding her torso across the carpet as she felt him jerk his release inside of her.

  -->