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Dove's Tale Ch. 02

By: Snowkemper



Thanks to everyone for your votes and comments on part one! I have ch. 3 outlined, but I have to confess at this point I'm not sure how this dark saga is going to end.

As always, all characters are over the age of 18.

*****

PHYLLIS had called it right. When she woke up, she was back in her dark little cell.

She couldn't remember how the night had ended, or how or when she had been taken down from the pony. She guessed she had finally fainted from the pain and exhaustion.

She started to sit up and groaned loudly. She realized she was living out the old cliche' aching from head to toe.

Every part of her body hurt, from her scalp where he had pulled her hair, to the soles of her cruelly paddled feet. Even in the dim light of her cell, she could see the marks and welts on her breasts. Her wrists and shoulders were stiff and sore, her butt was an island of pain, and there was a slow, agonizing fire burning between her legs.

She glanced around and realized there was an addition in her cell-a small wooden stool. Sitting on it was a bottle of water, a couple of pills, and a small tube of some kind of cream or salve.

She took a grateful drink of water, then another to swallow the pills, assuming they were either painkillers or antibiotics. Then she squeezed outsome of the cream and gingerly rubbed it into her sorest spots, wincing as her fingers touched tender, raw flesh.

With nothing else to do, she curled back up on the narrow cot and silently cried until she mercifully fell back to sleep.

For the next three days, they mostly left her alone. She saw no one but the silent Barry. Three times a day, he pushed a bowl of gruel and bottles of water into her cell. Once a day, he took her to a small, spartan bathroom so she could shower and brush her teeth.

She tried to eat, but had almost no appetite. With no utensils provided, she had to eat with her fingers. The mush wasn't bad tasting-usually it was totally bland, but sometimes she could taste either fish or fruit mixed into the...whatever it was. She'd dip her fingers in once or twice and bring them to her mouth, but then her stomach would churn and she'd push the bowl away and curl back up on the cot.

Finally on the fourth day, when the outer bank-vault door opened, it wasn't just Barry. He was there too. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed deeply, her stomach clenching with a mixture of hatred and fear.

Neither man spoke. Alexander rolled the second, barred door to the side and Barry hauled her out into the hallway. They had brought a low, padded bench with cuffs for her ankles.

Barry bent her over the bench, and Alexander held her wrists while he locked her wildly kicking feet into the cuffs. Then they switched, Barry holding her arms in his vise-like grip while Alexander whacked her ass with a cane...a dozen strokes that left her howling and sobbing.

She was uncuffed, shoved back into her cell, and left again.

Two more 'meals', and the duo were back. Again, not a word was said. She was dragged out, bound and beaten...this time it was the crop on the back of her thighs...and shoved back in her cell to whimper and cry in the near-darkness.

It became a pattern. After two bowls of gruel, an hour or two would pass (it was hard to judge time alone in her cell), and they would silently drag her out to the bench and punish her. Whip strokes across her back, the paddle or cane to her ass, and a couple times Barry held her upright, her wrists yanked painfully behind her back and her chest thrust out, while Alexander lashed her breasts with a flogger or thin, whippy cane.

That was her life. Darkness, boredom, pain and suffering.

She knew it was a strategy to break her. Put someone in a position with absolutely nothing to do...no physical or mental stimulation of any kind...and they will begin to look forward to any break in the monotony, even a beating. Fortunately, she understood what they were trying to do and was able to avoid the trap.

After a dozen or so 'session,' the pattern finally broke. Alexander came to her cell alone.

He stood outside the bars with his arms crossed, smirking at the girl quivering on her tiny cot, while she wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to avoid his gaze.

'Do you know why you're being punished?' he finally asked.

There was a long pause as she slowly raised her eyes. He could see contempt and hatred there, but most importantly and most deliciously, fear.

'Because you're a vicious asshole,' she answered at last.

He chuckled. 'Vicious yes. An asshole maybe. But that's not why you're being punished.'

He let her stare a moment longer.

'You're being punished for disobeying me. You were told the very first night what to do when you see your Master.'

'Shut up,' she said dismissively, and looked away.

He ignored her. Taking a step forward, he put a hand through the bars and pointed at the floor.

'Cat!' he barked.

The volume of what she assumed was supposed to be a command made her jerk her head up.

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?'

He shook his head in mock anger, his eyes glittering with amusement.

'If you had read, instead of tearing up your rules, you would know...and could spare yourself a lot of pain.'

'Now, Dove,' he said sternly, 'hand and knees, palms flat, arms straight, head up, back arched. That's the Cat position-the position you take when I come to your room.'

Her lip curled in disgust, and she didn't even bother to answer. She turned away again and showed him her middle finger.

He made a small gesture, and Barry was there, and soon she was being held over the bench again, the cane biting into her ass.

And the cycle began anew.

They added one twist. The next time they came for her, Barry bent her backwards, holding her arms with one massive arm, the other wrapped around her body just above her breasts. Her feet were cuffed wide enough apart for Alexander to use a riding crop on her pussy, smacking her most sensitive spot until she thought she would pass out from the pain.

She tried to keep her mind occupied during the endless hours alone. She thought up stories, daydreamed about happy moments from her childhood, made up endless top ten lists of her favorite movies, songs, bands and food...but her gaze kept drifting to the cell door, wondering how much longer she had before another beating.

Worse, to her horror and shame, she began to wonder if it wouldn't be worth it just to adopt the humiliating pose.

Hell, if that had been the only thing she had to do to stop the whippings, she would have. But she knew it wouldn't be the end...just the beginning of his demands.

Another dozen sessions went by, and he was alone again. Well, she knew he wasn't truly alone...Barry was just standing out of sight.

No smirk this time. He wore a genuine frown.

'I'm growing frustrated Dove,' he began. 'Frustrated and impatient. I'm close to giving up on you.'

'Good,' she replied. 'Then let me go.'

He snorted softly. 'That will never happen. Understand that, if you understand nothing else. Your life as a free person ended when you opened the door to my men.'

'And you understand this,' she shot back. 'I may be a prisoner, but I will never be your slave.'

'We shall see,' he said, and sure enough there was Barry. This time, however, they didn't pull her out of the cell.

Instead, they held her down and forced something on her.

First, a thick leather collar went around her neck. She could feel little cold spots, like metal, all around on the inside.

Then they attached a very thin, fine link chain to the front, ran it down her body, through her cleavage and between her legs, between the cheeks of her ass, and up her back to the nape of her neck. Alexander pulled until it was taut, and she heard a click as he locked a tiny padlock.

They stepped out of the cell, leaving her standing. It wasn't terribly uncomfortable. The chain was so fine it was almost soft, and while it pressed tight enough to be between her labia, it didn't hurt-although she wouldn't have wanted to run wearing it. Too much movement and it would surely chafe.

She reached down, but there was no slack. Even when she bent her neck, she could only pull it an inch or so to the side-not enough to make any real difference.

She looked up. Barry was out of sight again...but what she did saw made her shudder.

Alexander was holding what looked like a remote control in his hand, and that damn smirk was back.

She reached desperately for some defiance, to fight the fear chilling her.

'What happens when I need to take a shit?' she grumbled.

He laughed. 'It's metal. It's easy to wash. But trust me, that's the least of your concerns right now.'

'That's a training collar, Dove. It was originally designed for large dogs, like pit bulls or German Sheperds. The chain was my idea.'

She couldn't help herself. She crept backwards as he spoke, until her back touched the wall.

He held up the remote. 'It goes up to five, but that would probably knock you out. So we'll just start at two.'

He poked the remote with his index finger, and she stiffened and yelped as electricity jolted through her. From the collar, it flowed down the chain, painfully zapping her skin, her ultra-sensitive clit and inside her pussy, her anus-it was agony.

She howed in pain, and yanked futiley at the collar, staggering around the cell.

It only lasted thirty seconds, but seemed like an eternity. When he finally clicked the button off, she fell to one knee, gasping and sweating, her face streaked with tears.

'CAT!' he bellowed.

She sat on the floor of her cell, on her sore bottom.

'N-no,' she managed to moan.

He shook his head and turned it on again.

This time, he let the current run for a full minute as she screamed and rolled around, her feet kicking, her hands clawing desperately at the collar.

'Cat,' he repeated after he turned it off, his voice calm but emphatic.

She was lying on her side, trembling in pain and fear. He waited...waited...and when she didn't move pushed the button again.

Five more times, he gave her a minute of electric shock, then repeated his command. At some point, her bladder gave out. In her pain and horror she barely noticed.

Her thrashings had brought her close to the bars, facing him. He had been waiting for it.

He crouched down so she could see him. 'Apparently two isn't enough persuasion. Let's try three.'

She heard the dial click as he turned it up.

'Nooooo,' she began, and he paused, wondering if she would follow with a please.

When instead she tried to roll and squirm away, he zapped her again, the voltage even higher.

The pain was so immense she couldn't even scream. Her arms flailed wildly to the sides as she flopped around on her back.

'He can't keep this up,' her mind sang when the pain finally paused. 'He'll kill me.'

He was, in a way, genuinely impressed with her willpower. It just made him more determined to break her.

Four more times she felt the agonizing pain of the collar on setting 3. Finally, with sigh, he stopped and spoke.

'As fun as this is Dove, I have some work to do. Fortunately, this also has a random program. The length of the pain...the length of the pauses...and the power will all vary.'

He chuckled evilly as he pressed a button and set the remote down on the floor.

'You'll even get to feel it on four,' he said, and she whimpered.

'I'll be back in about two hours,' he finished, and walked away as the first jolt jerked another cry of agony from his victim.

She was in Hell. That was the only possible explanation. She had died and gone to Hell. 

Nearly delirious with pain, soaked with sweat, sobbing helplessly, Phyllis tried to struggle to her feet, only to be hit with the worst pain yet.

Her body stiffened and spasmed as the electricity roared through her. She looked like a person having a seizure. Thankfully, this blast of agony only lasted about ten seconds.

'Please,' she whimpered in the gloom of her cell. 'Ple-e-e-e-ease.'

And then she could only moan and squirm as more voltage flowed through the collar and chain.

She dragged her battered body over to the bars during one of the longer gaps between shocks, stretching and straining her hand out toward the remote. She could see it, but it was well out of reach. Sobbing, all hope gone, she curled up in a fetal position...until the pain hit again.

And again...and again...and again...until it was too much for her mind and body. Darkness beckoned, and she gratefully dove into unconsciousness.

After a few minutes of silence, Barry peeked around the corner. Seeing the girl passed out, he turned off the electric flow.

Meanwhile, Alexander was in one of the playrooms, amusing himself with two of his slave girls.

He watched with pleasure as Trouble stripped off her hip length white nightgown and lay unresisting on the narrow bed. Her slim body trembled with that intoxicating combination of lust and fear as he locked her wrists and ankles in padded cuffs. It wasn't tight bondage...he wanted the girl to be able to squirm and thrash beneath him.

He nodded to Kitten, and the red-haired girl knelt eagerly between her sister slaves legs, slowly kissing and licking, preparing the bound girl for her Master's pleasure.

Alexander removed his own clothing as he savored the erotic sight. His girls had learned to adore one another as much as they worshipped him. Watching them together was always a treat.

He let the action continue until Trouble was panting and moaning with desire, squirming her hips up at the teasing tongue, and his cock throbbed rock hard.

He tenderly stroked Kitten's head, and she gave the blonde girl's pussy one last lingering kiss before moving aside, her face shiny with the other girls juices.

He took her place, holding his stiff cock in his hand, rubbing the swollen head up and down the girl's dripping slit. Trouble shuddered and gasped, her pussy lips nibbling hungrily as he teased her.

'Beg,' he ordered softly, and obediently the girl responded, pleading in her adorable little-girl voice, begging him to fuck her, begging him to use her for his pleasure, begging for his cock...until he flicked his hips forward and slid deliciously into her soft, warm tunnel.

'Kiss her,' he said to Kitten, and he watched gleefully as the two girls shared kisses and tongues as he pumped slowly in and out of the sweet tight pussy.

Trouble rolled her slender hips, taking him all the way to the hilt, her inner muscles skillfully milking his lust-swollen rod. She moaned with pleasure as her tongue danced with Kitten's, the two girls making sure their Master could see their sexy kisses.

He drove in as far as he could go, his body pressed hard against his pet's warm skin. 'Grind, little one,' he commanded. 'Grind on my cock,' and the girl bucked her hips, her cream flowing warmly around his manhood.

'Cum for me Trouble,' he purred. 'Show your Master how much you love being used by him.' 

The girl gasped out a thank you and arched her body up off the bed, her blazing pussy sliding up and down his hardon as it spasmed, squealing with delight as she climaxed.

'Such a good girl,' he murmured, and reached under her, his hands at the small of her back, holding her quivering body in the air as he thrust into her, no longer holding back his own lust. He plunged in again and again until he shot his load, grinning when he felt her cumming again as he sprayed his seed into her.

He stayed motionless above her, catching his breath as he softened. Then he slid gently out of her, smiling at the girl with surprising tenderness.

'Say it little one,' he coaxed softly, and she blushed adorably, but didn't hesitate.

'Thank you for fucking your slave girl so good Master.'

He reached down and brushed her blonde hair away from her face, carressing her cheek with his hand. Then he looked at Kitten, who was smiling adoringly at them both.

'Take care of your sister pet. Get her cleaned up.'

He put on a robe and left the room as Kitten began releasing the other girl's cuffs. Ahh, life was truly grand!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phyllis woke to the sensation of being...washed?

She tried to sit up, alarmed, but found she was strapped down...padded leather belts crossing her upper chest, stomach, biceps and thighs, holding her in place.

There was a tiny blonde girl standing next to the bed she was strapped to, dunking a wash cloth into a basin of warm water and giving her a gentle sponge bath. The girl smiled shyly when Phyllis started moving.

'Are you ok?' the girl asked quietly.

Phyllis groaned and lay back, feeling disoriented. She realized her muscles ached horribly after so many hours spasming under the electric shocks she had endured.

'My names' Trouble,' the girl continued. 'I was told to clean you up.'

She stroked the damp washcloth up and down Phyllis' legs, nonplussed by the other woman's nudity.

Phyllis felt fully awake by now, her head clear, and she looked at the small girl washing her.

'Untie me,' she whispered urgently. 'Untie me and we'll get the hell out of here.'

The girl looked back. Her expression was sympathetic, but she shook her head.

'I can't,' she answered. 'I'm just supposed to give you a bath.'

'You can come with me,' Phyllis pleaded. 'Together we can escape this prison.'

The girl giggled softly. 'I don't want to escape. There's nothing for me out there.'

'Theres freedom out there!'

Trouble sighed and dropped the washcloth into the water.

'No, there isn't. There's just the illusion of freedom.'

'But...' Phyllis started, but the girl continued.

'Before I came here, I was working fifty plus hours a week, and still couldn't afford a car. I could barely pay my utility bills. I was exhausted, stressed, and unhappy.'

Phyllis started to argue again, but the girl kept talking.

'When my boyfriend beat me up, I went to the cops. No what they said?'

Phyllis shook her head.

'That if I didn't act like such a bitch, I wouldn't get punched.'

Phyllis closed her eyes sadly for a long moment. 'I'm sorry,' she said honestly. 'That's terrible.'

'It was. It all was. And then Master found me and brought me here.'

The girl's smile was kind and sincere.

'And sure, it was scary at first. But now...now I have everything I could ever want. Beautiful clothes, the best food, a palace to live in...'

She waved her arms. "His office by itself is bigger than my old apartment.'

'I've been to Paris and seen the Louvre. I've been to Rome and heard the Pope. I'm living out my little girl dream of being a Princess.'

Phyllis shook her head sadly. 'I'm sorry. God, that bastard has destroyed you.'

The smile vanished from Trouble's face, and her lips pursed in anger. She grabbed the washcloth and wrung out excess water.

'No, he saved me,' she retorted, and began washing between Phyllis' legs.

She gasped and tried to squirm away. 'Stop that!' she snapped angrily.

'Are you sore?' the girl asked, genuinely concerned.

'No, I just don't want you doing that!'

The girl continued washing. 'It doesn't matter. I have to.'

She set the cloth back in the basin, and gently dried Phyllis' legs and between with a fluffy towel.

'Look,' Phyllis said. 'Just because your life wasn't perfect is no reason to let someone...do the terrible things to you that monster does.'

Trouble smiled. 'Really, it's not that bad. If you'd just stop fighting, you'd soon see how wonderful it can be here.'

Phyllis scowled. 'Did he send you here to try to convince me to give in to him?'

'No, he sent me here to give you a bath. But you really should stop fighting him. You can't win, you know.'

Phyllis clenched her teeth, not wanting to snarl at the girl, but her determination showed in every clipped syllable.


Dove's Tale Ch. 02



'I'll never stop fighting. I will never give in to that sick fuck.'

The girl reached up and touched Phyllis' neck, probing gently with her fingertips.

'Is your neck sore?' she asked.

'No, its not too bad. But really...' she started to say, but the girl was gathering up her stuff, getting ready to leave.

She turned back as she opened the cell door. Her pale blue eyes were kind, and filled with sadness.

'I'm serious Dove,' she said softly. 'You can't win. Master is getting very impatient. He's about ready to give up on you, and if he does...'

She almost seemed to shudder.

'There are lots of worse places than here.'

Trouble slid the barred door shut and pushed a button on the wall. There were some small 'click' sounds, and all the bands holding Phyllis down loosened, allowing her to get up.

She hurried to the toilet as the bigger outer door closed. Then she sat on her cot, drank some water and waited.

She wasn't surprised when the door opened again after a short time, and Alexander was there. He stood with his arms crossed, regarding her pensively. Phyllis tried to keep her face expressionless even as a cold chill of fear crawled up her spine.

'Still,' he said calmly. 'After all that, you still defy me.'

She didn't answer. She didn't move. After a long moment, he sighed and shook his head sadly.

'I honestly never thought I'd have to say this...but I give up.'

Barry made his appearance, looming behind him. The cell door opened, and soon Phyllis found herself in a familiar position, bent over the padded bench. This time, instead of Barry holding her arms, they cuffed her wrists to the front of the bench, and buckled a ball gag in her mouth.

She snarled muffled, impotent curses as Alexander stood in front of her, letting her watch him undress. He had only taken her sexually a couple times in all the weeks she'd been there.

He wasn't a bad looking man-a little soft, sure, but in good shape for a man in his mid-forties, and his organ was larger than any of her old boyfriends. She felt sick at the prospect of the abuse to come, and worried about what would happen to her now that he was finished trying to train her.

He moved behind her as she yanked helplessly at her bonds. Soon, she felt slick fingers rubbing between her legs, then sliding in and out of her pussy. He chuckled as he gripped her hips and slowly pushed his cock inside her.

'They make a millions different kinds of lubes and oils,' he chuckled as he thrust slowly in and out, savoring the soft tightness of her tunnel, 'but nothing is better than good old-fashioned baby oil.'

She groaned in anguish and helpless rage as he used her, the gag taking away even the ability to curse and insult him.

'If you had just not been so stubborn,' he said matter-of-fact as he pulled all the way out of her, his hands moving up to grip her luscious buttocks, 'you'd be living a life of endless sensual pleasure, indulgence, and leisure.'

He pressed the baby-oil slick head of his cock against her tightest hole, relentlessly forcing it in as she howled in pain and humiliation.

'And this would be pure ecstacy,' he laughed.

The sensations were exquisite. Her anal passage was so tight, so warm, so buttery soft he could barely stand it. His cock quivered and throbbed as he plunged in again and again, his eyes feasting on the erotic sight.

Finally, he thrust in to the hilt, gasping and shuddering as he shot his load, holding her hips tightly and jerking her ass from side to side, using her body to milk his spurting cock.

He slid out gently and gave her bare bottom a soft pat. 'You could have been such an outstanding slave,' he said with regret.

He looked to his loyal servant, standing motionless nearby.

'Barry? Would you care to indulge yourself before we get rid of this one?'

'Thank you sir,' came the low, rumbling reply, and even in the midst of her misery Phyliss' head jerked up in surprise. So the monster really could talk!

For such a huge man, Barry had a very normal sized penis. With no preliminaries, he opened his trousers and drove into her pussy. He made no attempt at technique or stamina, simply thrusting in and out and finished quickly.

Alexander crouched in front of the bench, a syringe in his hand. He cupped Phyliss' chin in his other hand, staring into her weeping eyes.

'I want you to remember something, little Dove,' he crooned. 'You could have had a life of nothing but pleasure and luxury, your every whim catered to, your every desire fulfilled. You could have lived like a princess.'

She felt the prick of the needle, and her stomach churned with fear.

'Remember what you gave up pet,' he continued. 'You will regret it.'

She had just enough time to whimper into her gag before oblivion.



Dove's Tale Ch. 03



Thanks to everyone for your comments and votes! As always, all characters in this story are over the age of 18.

*****

IT was another round of travelling-car, plane, car again-just like when she was first taken prisoner. This trip seemed longer, and instead of giving her something that made her feel really high and trippy, the drugs they injected her with knocked her out cold.

She woke up, slowly, alone in yet another small concrete cell. This one was smaller than her old cell back at the mansion, but at least it was well lit.

She was wearing a baggy green sleeveless dress that hung down past her knees. The color was hideous but she didn't care-it was soft on the inside and after all the time she'd been forced to be nude, any clothing was a minor blessing.

On a little wall shelf were a handful of pills, a couple granola/energy bars, and a bottle of water. She took the pills and ate the food, then sat down on her cot to wait for whatever fate was in store.

The silence and her disorientation was nerve wracking. She had no idea where she was, what time it was, what day it was...hell she wasn't even sure of the month. She forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly.

'Keep it together Philly,' she told herself. 'Whatever happens is gonna happen.'

Some time passed, and she saw her first other person in this new prison. An older woman, mid fiftys, short and plump, wearing a shapeless grey smock, approached her cell.

Phyllis stood up. 'Where am I?' she asked.

The woman responded in a language Phyllis didn't understand. It sounded Eastern European, maybe Russian.

The lady shrugged and pushed a tray under the bars. A bowl of stew, a couple hunks of coarse bread, and two more bottles of water.

She looked at Phyllis with a sad expression and said something else, then sighed and walked away.

With nothing else to do, Phyllis ate the flavorful, meaty stew while her mind conjured up endless images of the Russian mob and cold war era KGB atrocities. She hated to admit it, but she was genuinely scared.

Still worn out from the drugs and her trip, she curled back up on the cot after filling her belly and slept.

She was awakened by the sound of footsteps approaching. Stretching, feeling reasonably well-rested, she sat up, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

Three big men with short hair, wearing suits, soon stood outside her cell. They weren't man-mountains like Barry had been, but they were large enough, and unlike the expressionless servant, there was something cruel and unpleasant in the way they looked at her that made her want to shudder.

One of them tossed something into the cell, onto her cot.

'You brush hair,' he said in heavily accented English.

She thought briefly of refusing, but hell she did want to get some of the tangles out-and anyway look what fighting every little thing had gotten her last time? She spent a few minutes running the brush through her brown hair and decided to be smarter about picking her battles this time.

One of the men unlocked her cell. The first man spoke again.

'You come.'

Her legs felt like lead and her bottom lip trembled as the men escorted her down a hallway, one on each side and the talker behind her. They stopped and entered a much larger room. There was a desk, a bed, a sink, and two more people inside.

One was a very pretty woman about her age, wearing the exact same oversized green dress, standing to the side with her hands behind her back and her head bowed.

The other was an older man in khakis and a white polo shirt. He nodded to her escorts, one of whom put a big hand on her bicep. The closing of the door behind them sounded very loud and ominous.

Polo Shirt let his eyes wander slowly over her, and his half-smile was terrifying.

'Fee-louse,' he said at last. 'You work here now. I boss.'

'Russian,' she thought to herself. His accent was so thick it was hard to understand him.

He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms.

'Now...you streep an sprayed for fox.'

She ran those words through her head a few times. 'What?' she finally had to say.

He looked amused.

'You streep,' he said slowly, and mimed unbuttoning a shirt.

'an sprayed,' he pressed his hand together in front of him, then opened them like he was expecting a hug.

'for fox,' and he made a circle with his left index finger and thumb, and pushed his right index finger in and out in an unmistakeable, lewd gesture.

'Oh hell no,' she snarled, and started to bolt for the door. She didn't even get turned all the way around before the goon with his hand on her arm had her wrapped up tight.

She kicked and howled to no effect as two of them pulled her dress over her head. She was tossed on the bed, and in moments her wrists were cuffed over her head.

Strong hands held each ankle, and pulled her legs up and back, cuffing them to her wrists. She thrashed helplessy, cursing and snarling, outraged by her exposed position. Her hips were at the very edge of the bed, and having her legs almost over her head left her pussy wide open, displayed for the whole room.

The boss said something-a Russian name, maybe-and one of the goons moved to the edge of her bed. Smirking, he lowered his trousers, took hold of her hips, and thrust into her.

She screamed in pain and anger as he used her.

He drove in and out callously, making a satisfied sound as he shot his load inside her. The boss was up by her head, looking down at her face, and her tears began to flow.

He said another name-Tammy, or maybe Tommy-and the other girl in the room moved quickly. She picked up a damp towel and thrust it into Phyllis' pussy, cleaning her out.

The boss grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at him.

'You no choice,' he stated. 'You whore now. Streep for fox all ways.'

He said another name, and a second man mounted her.

Eventually, all three of the men who had brought her to the room had used her. Then she was uncuffed, and curled into a ball on the bed, sobbing quietly.

'Fee-louse,' the boss called, and she looked up to see the first group of men leave, and three more enter.

'Sprayed for fox now. Or we use ass.'

Hopeless tears soaked her face as she rolled onto her back and opened her legs.

Her time back at the mansion had been brutal and horrible, but this was so much worse. She had never been used so impersonally. The men barely looked at her. She was nothing but an object to them-a warm soft hole to fuck, to relieve their most primitive lusts.

Finally, all the men were done. She half expected the boss to be next, but he nodded approvingly and dropped her ugly dress on her legs.

Her legs wobbled as she stood and draped the garment over her body. He waited, then handed her a box.

'You douche, then sleeps. Food in three hours. You hear other girls and learn.'

She was half-dragged, half-carried back to her cell by the only one of the goons that had spoken to her. When the door clanged shut, she fell on the bed, crying pitieously, but instead of leaving, he stood outside her cell, his arms crossed expectantly.

'You douche!' he barked.

Numbly, feeling broken and defeated, she used the hygiene product while he stood there and supervised, turning her back and lifting her dress for a tiny bit of privacy and dignity.

Satisified, he walked away, leaving her to wrap her arms around her legs and cry herself to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Food. Come.'

Phyllis looked up at the guard who stood by her open cell door and sighed miserably. Her shoulders slumped, she followed him down a couple hallways and through a set of double doors...

And stopped in surprise at the sight before her. 

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting-something like a school cafeteria maybe-and she'd known there were other girls her. But this!

It looked like a lounge, or a commons room. There were tables, couches and loveseats. A big screen TV hung on one wall, dark and silent. A shelf had a few books and a couple decks of cards.

There were twenty other women there, all around her age, women that would have been very attractive if they hadn't looked so unhappy. A few glanced up as she entered, but no one greeted her. 

All of them wore dresses like hers, green, pale blue, or maroon.

She saw exactly zero smiles.

One wall was open like a cafeteria serving line, with the kitchen behind it. She was given her meal-a hamburger patty, a small serving of spaghetti, some sliced vegetables (zucchini and beets, it looked like), an apple, and a mug of tea.

There were four guards in the room, one in each corner, looking bored-and behind glass in a little booth was a fifth, sitting in a chair with a rifle next to him.

She sat at an empty table and ate desultorily, barely looking up.

'At least the food's not bad,' she thought.

She finished about half and picked up the apple, when she noticed some of the women had gathered in a loose circle around her table. Alarmed, she set it back on the plate.

One of the women-a tall girl with strawberry blonde hair-sat down across from her.

'You're Phyllis?' she asked.

Uneasy, she nodded.

'You're American, yes?'

'Yeah,' Phyllis sighed.

'I'm Annette. They put me in charge of your training.'

Phyllis looked at her. 'Training,' she said flatly.

'Yep.' The woman raised her hand, and the four guards in the room departed.

'It isn't any fun, but it has to be done. For all our sakes.'

Phyllis leaned across the table. 'Where are we?' she asked quietly.

Annette's lip curled. 'Somewhere in Russia, I think. Don't ask that again. The guards do not like us asking questions.'

'How do we get out of this place?'

'Stop it,' Annette said sternly. 'You don't want to know what they'll do to you if they think you're plotting-and there are women in here who will rat on you.'

'Forget that shit,' Annette continued. 'You're not leaving. What you need to do now is learn how to survive. That means making the customers, and the guards, happy.'

'Fuck that,' Phyllis hissed. 'Anybody who thinks they're gonna be a customer of mine is taking their life in their hands.'

'Like hell,' one of the women behind her growled. A tall, dark haired girl leaned down, her palms on the table, and glared into Phyliss' eyes.

'You'll fucking do what you're told,' she threatened.

'Settle down Des,' Annette said wearily. The big woman straightened, still scowling.

Annette looked at Phyllis and continued. 'She's right though. You are gonna do what you're told.' When Phyllis opened her mouth to protest, Annette raised a finger in warning.

'Every customer gets asked if they were satisfied or not. If they say no, they punish all of us.'

'Then, we kick the shit out of you.'

Phyllis stared at the woman wide-eyed, her heart sinking.

'And then you spend two or three days tied face down and taking it up the ass.'

Phyllis sighed, too stunned for words. Annette emphasized the truth of her statement by nodding slowly.

'So it's not enough just to 'streep for fox.' You're going to ask for it. You're gonna tell them how great it feels. You're gonna shake your ass like the happiest little whore on earth, and thank them when they're done.

'Dear god,' Phyllis muttered.

'So. Training. Stand up.'

Numb, Phyllis got to her feet. Most of the women closed around her.

'Take off your dress,' Annette said, her tone matter-of-fact.

'I'm not gonna have sex with you,' Phyllis shot back, and a few of the women laughed bitterly.

'No, you're not. But you are gonna get used to the way you have to act here.'

With another deep sigh, Phyllis slid out of her only piece of clothing, and stood naked in the center of the women.

One of them stepped forward and lifted her chin, looking into her eyes.

'Say fuck me,' she coaxed, and when Phyllis hesitated, she made it a command.

'Say it!'

'F-fuck me,' Phyllis managed.

The next woman in the circle nudged Phyllis over by the shoulder.

'Say fuck my hot pussy.'

'Fuck my h-hot pussy,' Phyllis whimpered.

She was pulled to the next woman. 'Say I love your big cock.'

'Say fuck me harder.'

'Say cum in my horny pussy.'

'Say fuck me from behind.'

'Say your big cock tastes so good.'

'Say...'

Around and around the circle she went, repeating the lewd phrases over and over, whatever they told her to say. Sometimes the woman would tell her to moan, or gasp, or 'sound like you're cumming.'

It was utterly humiliating.

Finally, she found herself facing Annette again. The woman looked at her and nodded.

'Tolerable,' she said, and gave Phyllis a not-unfriendly pat on the shoulder.

'Go ahead and get dressed.

Gratefully, Phyllis covered herself.

'Turn off your brain. Don't think about what's happening, or what's going to happen. Just spread your legs, say some of that shit, wiggle your hips, and remember to use your douche afterwards.'

Phyllis ran her hands through her hair. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something-anything-to relieve the tension and horror in her mind.

She looked around the room, at the women who hadn't joined the training circle. On two couches, there were girls holding each other-not like lovers, more like terrified kids clinging to each other during a thunderstorm.

A couple of the girls sat alone, staring blankly into space.

She couldn't imagine how they felt.

The guards returned. One of them gave her a paper bag. Inside was a toothbrush, hairbrush, deodorant, and a few colored hair ties.

'Lights out in fifteen,' a male voice announced.

'Come on,' Annette said, taking her elbow. They joined the rest of the women in a trip to the big communal bathroom, than to the bedroom/barracks they all shared.

There was a jumble of bunk beds, shoved in haphazardly.

'Top one's empty,' a short brunette girl told her, pointing with her thumb. Phyllis climbed up and stared at the ceiling for a long time, dreading the morning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next six days were a nightmare.

It turned out Phyllis had been 'initiated' and trained on the one day during the week the brothel was closed. The rest of the days had a routine.

Wake up at nine. Shower, breakfast, fix your hair, put on makeup, sit around in the common room trying to gather your strength and courage for the ordeal ahead...and at noon they took the girls to the 'entertainment' rooms...twenty small, college-dorm sized rooms with nothing but a bed, a single chair, and a tiny bathroom.

They were given nothing to wear but a pair of tiny, sheer panties-because a lot of men liked to take them off, or watch them be removed.

They were also given a pill-a mild sedative that made the day easier to bear. It was the one bit of kindness the Boss and guards showed the hapless girls. They got another one halfway through their shift. It helped a little.

Each day was a twelve hour shift. Twelve endless hours of being taken, being used against her will-twelve hours of having to pretend you were enjoying yourself, of having to try to act seductive and slutty for total strangers.

She guessed they were on or near some kind of military post or project. A lot of her 'visitors' were young men with short haircuts, in good physical shape and with excellent posture.

Those men were fairly easy, and usually didn't take too long. There were also older men, officers she assumed, that used her fairly gently.

It was the in-between ones-the men in their 30's and 40's with hard faces and loud raspy voices-that were most likely to be rough.

There were also nerdy scientist types, and dull eyed fools she guessed were janitors or cooks. It didn't matter-she had to service them all.

She soon found out all she had to do was say the words and buck her hips. The men that came to fuck her didn't notice the hollow tone of her voice, or the pain in her eyes-they heard the words, saw the body, and thrust into the pussy or mouth and that was enough.

She was nothing to them-nothing but a living, breathing blow up doll with holes to fuck 

In between, the girls were given fifteen minutes to douche, touch up their hair and makeup, drink some water, and (often) cry. 

There were also two fifteen minute breaks when they were given a snack, and at some point in the evening an hour for supper.

Phyllis was perversely, sickeningly proud of the fact that she didn't crack. She didn't like any of the other women-there was very little conversation or camaraderie as they were all sunk too deep in their own misery for anything as mundane as friendship. Still, she didn't want anyone else punished for her behavior, and she didn't want to get beat up by people she had to share living quarters with.

There were only two good things she could think of regarding her situation. First, the food was quite good, and second, she didn't have to do anal. That was reserved for girls that were being punished.

The worst part was the guys who wanted a blowjob. She always tried to talk them out of it-'but don't you want to fuck me? My pussy is so wet and needs your big cock,'-but it only rarely worked, and she didn't dare push it too hard and anger a customer.

They all still got punished. On just her third night, one of the girls-a skinny little blonde waif who'd been there about two months-went hysterical, screaming, crying, running out the door away from a customer.

She was brutally subdued by the guards, and after midnight, when the last of the customers had left, they gathered all the rest of the girls.

It was the first time Phyllis had seen the Boss since that first day.

'You know rules,' was all he said to them. The guards dragged them out, four at a time, and viciously whipped them on the butt with heavy leather straps, not caring if they broke skin, not caring how painfull it would be for the girls the next day.

When they had all felt the bite of the straps, the guards herded them together in the common room. The poor girl who had caused it all (she reminded Phyllis more than a little bit of Trouble, the blonde slave who had bathed her back at the mansion) was dragged, bound and sobbing, and thrown at the Boss' feet.

'Work-or useless. Useless-we get rid.'

One of the guards handed him a pistol. Phyllis gasped and turned away, unwilling to watch, and she screamed in terror along with the others.

The rest of the week crawled by, a blur of helpless anger, hopeless lethargy, and of course the men. She lost track of how many cocks were shoved in her. The soreness between her legs was a constant ache.

Finally, the blessed day came that the brothel was closed. A few of the girls were examined by a doctor. The rest sat around listlessly in the common room. Conversations, if there were any, were slow and dull.

Phyllis did have one question. She asked Annette, who seemed to have most of the answers, and was as close to a leader as the sad group of women had.

'What happens when I get my period?' she muttered.

Annette looked at her, smiling sadly. 'They've got these things like sponges. They shove one up into you-so deep it feels like its in your throat. None of the men know.'

Phyllis shuddered, sorry she'd asked.

Not long after lunch, a guard came into the room and called her name.

'Fill-us. You come.'

She got up, filled with trepidation. A couple of the nicer woman reached out to touch her hand or back as she passed, a small show of concern that just made her worry more.

She was taken to a small room. The guard put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her so she stood facing the far wall.

'Here stay,' he ordered softly.

She stood silently, trembling, her knees weak, and tried to just breathe slow and easy.

She let out a gasp when she heard a familiar chuckle...and a voice she recognized.

'Well, well, well, little Dove. Are you enjoying your vacation?'

Absurdly, the first thought that popped into her head was 'he came to rescue me!'




Dove's Tale Ch. 03



She slowly turned, her entire body shaking, and there he was, leaning carelessly against the door frame, arms and ankles crossed, that little smirk on his face.

She couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Her mind was overloaded.

'Now you see how much worse things can be.'

Phyllis' mouth opened and closed, but all that came out was a tiny squeak.

He made a tiny noise of amusement.

'This is the only opportunity you will ever get to leave this place, Dove.'

Her legs felt like lead. There were so many emotions roaring through her she felt paralyzed.

The Boss' face appeared over Alexander's shoulder. Her former captor looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head.

'Ah well, if that's the way you want it.'

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a money clip. Peeling off a couple hundred-dollar bills, he turned to the Boss.

'Make sure this one spends all next week face down,' he said calmly, and terror broke her spell.

'NO!' she almost screamed, and flung herself down, wrapping her arms around his leg. 'No please god no please don't leave me here!'

He reached down and grabbed her hair, pushing her away, leaving her sprawled on one hip, her eyes glistening with tears.

'That is not how a slave begs,' he said mildly. 'On your knees, your forhead on my shoes. If you wish to be my property, beg correctly.'

Whimpering, she pressed her face against his expensive loafers.

'Please take me with you. Please don't leave me here. I'll do anything!'

He looked down at the girl, fighting to conceal his delight at finally having her grovel at his feet.

'Is that how a girl addresses her owner?' he asked sternly.

A light bulb seemed to turn on in her brain. 'No Master, I'm sorry Master, please I'm begging you!' she moaned shamelessly.

'What are you, little Dove?'

'Im-I'm your slave.'

He bent down and tangled his fingers in her hair, forcing her head up. His eyes were dark and fierce.

'Know this pet. You have used up every one of your chances. One instant of disobedience-one second of defiance-one angry glare, one heartbeat of rebellion-and I will send you to a place that makes this seem like a summer camp.'

'Do you understand?' he snarled, giving her hair a yank for emphasis. She whined and nodded frantically.

'Answer the question.'

'Yes Master, I understand,' she whispered.

'Take that horrid dress off-now!' he barked, and she scrambled to strip naked.

'You start at the very beginning Dove,' he lectured as she returned her head to his shoe. 'You will have to earn every privilege-including clothes.'

'Yes Master,' she whimpered.

He clapped his hands softly. 'Cat,' he commanded, his voice quiet but assured.

She had to think for a moment, then she remembered the position, and knelt on her knees and palms.

He reached down, adjusting her so her head was up, her back arched, her pert bottom raised prettily.

'Acceptable,' he muttered, and she was appalled at the relief that flowed through her.

'Another privilege you'll have to earn is walking. You will crawl out of here, a step or two behind me. Keep your eyes on my left ankle. This isn't just to remind you of your place, pet-it's also to teach you to focus on me and me alone.'

'Understand?' he asked.

'Yes Master,' came the reply again.

He turned, and she glued her eyes to his ankle and shoe. She was going to escape this hell! She was so desperate to get out she would submit to any humiliation, any nonsense. Her nudity barely bothered her-so many men had seen her in the last week, what was a few more?

She didn't see him nod in satisfaction to the Boss and hand him the hundreds before he started to walk. She scampered along behind him, focused only on not messing this up at the last minute.

They walked and crawled down several corridors. The carpeted areas weren't too bad, but the concrete floors quickly made her knees ache.

She ignored it. After all she'd been through, sore knees seemed like nothing.

She heard male voices and laughter as the rounded a corner, but kept her eyes locked on his left foot, stopping about a yard behind when he stopped walking.

'Kneel up, Dove,' he said. 'Back straight, head up, hands behind your back.'

She hoped she was doing it right as she knelt upright and lifted her head. The three guards that had taken her from her cell that first night-it seemed so long ago!-were standing in front of her.

She gulped and shivered at the cruel look in their eyes.

'These men did a wonderful job of teaching you what a lowly slave you are-don't you agree Dove?'

'Y-yes Master,' she whimpered.

'I think you should thank them. Don't you pet?' he mocked.

She knew she was being tested. Fresh tears filled her eyes at the humiliation, but she took a deep breath, determined to do whatever it took to escape this place.

'Yes Master.' 

She looked up at the guards. 'Thank you,' she managed to mutter.

He frowned and shook his head as the guards laughed.

'Not good enough pet. I think you should kiss their asses and thank them for showing you you're nothing but a piece of slave ass.'

She looked up at him, horror in her eyes...then swallowed hard, fighting the urge to rebel.

'Yes Master,' she whispered as a tear trickled down her cheek.

She watched numbly as the three men turned away from her, laughing and elbowing each other as they dropped their trousers.

It was hard to hold down the bile, but she crawled the last few inches on her knees and touched her lips to the first guards left cheek.

'Thank you for showing me I'm...nothing but a piece of slave ass,' she forced herself to say.

She knee-walked a foot to her right and leaned toward the guard in the center, but as she leaned forward, she felt her Master's hand on her neck.

'Kiss it hard bitch! And let him feel your tongue!'

Phyllis cried silent tears as he pressed her face against the man's backside, and made herself lick. When she was finally released, she repeated the awful phrase.

It was even worse when she got to the last guard. He shoved her face deep in the crack of her ass, snarling at her to lick harder.

After long moments, she was allowed to thank him. Her shame and defeat were complete, especially when the guards pulled their pants up and moved aside, allowing her to see Barry was there and had seen the entire humiliating episode.

Alexander reached down and took her hand, helping her to her feet.

'The car's right through that door, Dove. We'll be home in about six hours.'

This may not be a defeat for our heroine, but it's definitely a setback! Just remember, it's always darkest before the dawn.



Dove's Tale Ch. 04



PHYLLIS sat quietly on the edge of her bed, her hands in her lap, waiting for the man she had to call Master.

For the first time in the two months since she'd returned to the mansion, she was looking forward to his coming to her room.

'It ends tonight,' she thought. 'No matter what, tonight it's over.'

Her lip trembled as she thought back on everything he had put her through. The pain, the punishment, the humiliations, her week in that brothel...

No no no...she pushed those thoughts away. She had lifted herself out of an incredibly black depression, but still wasn't ready to face *those* memories.

For the first three weeks, she had been a lifeless robot, mechanically following orders and obeying commands. *He* didn't care...he seemed to revel in her misery, and took perverse pride in piling one humiliation on top of another.

And not just in private. She remembered so many meals where Master and her sisters sat at the table, eating and talking and laughing...the other girls looking so beautiful in their silk, satin, and lace outfits...enjoying one of the amazing gourmet meals his cook prepared...

While she knelt naked, her hands tied or cuffed behind her back, forced to eat her gruel from a bowl on the floor.

'Eat it all Dove,' he would say. 'Any food left is a sign of rebellion-and we both know the consequences of that.'

She endured it, getting gruel all over her face as she ate like a dog, then licked the bowl clean. As awful as it was, it still beat being raped twenty or more times a day.

Or he would feed them all by hand. The other girls thought it was a fun game, and crowded round his chair on their knees, playfully nudging each other out of the way.

Phyllis, he left tied or chained, too far away to reach. He would throw morsels on the floor, smirking as she forced herself to eat like an animal.

He knew she didn't like giving oral, so it became his central focus. Eager or not, she was pretty good at it, and he used her mouth almost every day.

He loved to make her give him head with the other girls in the room, letting them enjoy her shame. Those blowjobs usually ended with him forcing her to beg for a facial, something she truly despised.

'Louder, Dove,' he would chuckle as she pointed his cock at her mouth and stroked it, until she was nearly shouting the vile words.

Her 'sisters' weren't cruel about it-they were simply so devoted to their Master that anything he did seemed good to them.

Then there were the commands she had to memorize and the positions she had to master. There were a dozen or more. Along with 'Cat,' there was 'Heat,' where a girl had to kneel, lower her head to the floor, spread her legs wide and wiggle her bottom cutely.

And many other poses. The other girls found them erotic and arousing. Phyllis just found them hateful.

The one command he had stopped using on her was 'Speak.' When he gave that command, a girl was to blurt out the first thing that popped into her mind.

'I hate you,' Phyllis had said without hesitation.

He lifted an eyebrow. 'That's what you were thinking, pet?'

'That's what I'm always thinking.'

'Master.'

He just smirked and continued to give her commands, forcing her to pose lewdly for him.

Another of his favorite games was to make her 'practice' her oral skills on a dildo while he cavorted with one or more of his other slaves.

'You're going to be the perfect little blowjob princess,' he would taunt as she tried to blank her mind.

'Suck, Dove,' he would say, and enjoyed watching her cheeks hollow as she nursed on the toy, her face flushed with humiliation.

He also took great pleasure in giving her facials-something she really hated. The look in her eyes as she pointed his cock at her open mouth and jacked out his cum was priceless.

'You don't like that, do you Dove?' he had asked once as she knelt before him, his load dripping off her chin.

'No.'

'Master.'

'Ok, so tell your Master what you do like. What turns you on sexually?'

She stared at the floor. 'It doesn't matter.'

'Master.'

'Nonsense. Just because you're a slave girl doesn't mean you don't get to experience pleasure. I would greatly enjoy driving you wild with passion.'

Phyllis sighed softly. 'You can't.'

'Master.'

He lifted an eyebrow. 'Oh? And why not?'

Her voice remained flat and toneless, but she looked up at him and for the first time in ages, he saw a spark in her eyes.

'You're approaching the question from the wrong direction.' 

'Master.'

Alexander looked at her curiously. 'I'm listening.'

She continued to speak slowly, as if every word was a struggle.

'You asked what.'

'Master.'

'It's not what that's important, it's who.'

'If you like someone...if you care about someone and are attracted to someone...then anything they do can be erotic.'

'But.'

'If the other person is someone you find totally repulsive...they can do the exact same thing.'

'And all it will do is make you feel awful.'

'Master.'

He smirked. 'A valid point. But not to worry pet-it won't be long before you love and adore your Master more than you ever dreamed you could love anyone.'

She dropped her head. 'As you say.'

'Master.'

That smirk she so despised returned.

'Well then,' he chuckled. 'That being the case, I guess we'll just do the things I enjoy until we can get past your barriers.'

He reached down and patted her head.

'Lucky for me, you look so lovely with my dick in your mouth-or with my cum all over your face.'

'As you say.'

'Master,' she replied, retreating back into herself.

One day, about a week after her return, he had tried to give her a massage.

In a quiet room, lit by soothing scented candles, he had layed her on the massage table, softly assuring her she would neither be punished or molested.

'I want you to realize the benefits and pleasures of being mine,' he had crooned as she stretched out on her stomach, stiff and trembling.

'I'm not licensed or anything, but I have taken massage classes, and I'm told I'm pretty good at it,' he continued as he poured some warm oil onto his hands.

But as soon as he touched her shoulders, she went rigid. Her jaw clenched, her fists clenched, even her toes were curled. It was like kneading wood.

He had taken a step back. 'Relax little one,' he murmured. 'Breathe slow and deep. This is for you to enjoy.'

She had tried-she really had. But again, as soon as he started trying to massage her she tensed.

He found the pressure points on her neck and shoulders that should have made her purr with pleasure, and it did no good. Her eyes were screwed so tightly shut it made her ears wiggle.

It was a counter productive disaster. By the time he finally gave up and told her to go shower and rinse off the massage oil, her muscles were actually cramping from being tensed.

He had tried seeing what happened if he got her to play with her sisters, hoping maybe she was more bi than she realized, and the softness of a woman might awaken her passions.

He couldn't have been more wrong. It was the one time she had demurred.

'Please Master, not that,' she had said quietly, tears in her eyes.

He gently stroked her hair as she lay on the bed, naked and spread at his command, as Rogue tried to rouse her with feather soft carresses and kisses on her legs.

Phyllis wasn't into girls at all. She had never even fantasized about it. She wasn't bigoted or homophobic-she just wasn't interested. Having to submit to another woman's lovemaking was far worse than being used by a male.

Her tears flowed endlessly as Rogue tried in vain to pleasure her. Finally, they gave up and let her go back to her room, and Dove practically sprinted away.

She remembered the day she had finally started to get some of her spirit back. He had come to her room and announced she had earned a reward for being obedient.

'You're trying Dove,' he said. 'I'm very pleased.'

And he had given her a gift-a piece of cotton cloth, cut into a sort of triangle shape, that she would be allowed to wear around her hips.

'Tie it at the left hip,' he instructed. It amounted to little more than a loincloth, giving her a small amount of modesty in front but leaving her backside bare.

She was appalled at how grateful she was, and put on the slave rag as eagerly as she had once put on her prom dress.

That was when she realized how far she had truly fallen, and how close she was to turning into another of his broken, destroyed playthings.

She still had to be very careful. She couldn't be openly defiant-her behavior hardly changed at all-but inside she rallied. 

And then, last weekend, came the opening she'd been waiting for.

He had thrown a party. A group of about thirty of his friends and associates had come to the mansion. Phyllis and the other girls had been given the task of serving drinks and hors de ouvres.

'This is your debut, Dove,' he had said. 'Make me proud. Be quiet, demure and respectful. Speak only when spoken to, and address every guest as Sir or Ma'am.'

They had fussed with their appearance for most of the day. Kitten was put in charge of making sure Phyllis looked her best, fixing her hair and applying her makeup until she looked perfect.

He dressed them in an erotic parody of a butler's uniform-a button down white shirt, cropped to leave their stomachs bare, complete with a black bow tie. The shirts had openings in the front to leave their breasts uncovered.

A tiny black skirt, little more than a belt, with black fishnet stocking and open toed high heel shoes, completed the outfit. Phyllis looked in a mirror and shook her head sadly, less concerned with the public nudity than with the knowledge her poor feet would be aching by the end of the night.

Her Master seemed a little nervous as they waited for his guests to arrive. Rogue leaned over and whispered.

'This party is for Masters and Mistresses,' she told Phyllis. 'It's important to his reputation-and his ego-that we impress.'

Phyllis and the other girls spent the night circulating, carrying silver trays with champagne glasses and tidbits of food as the guest mingled and socialized. The primary impression she got was money. Expensive suits, designer gowns, diamonds, gold, and confidence bordering on arrogance.

There was no flirting, no getting felt up-in their circle, the presence of nearly-naked serving girls was nothing unusual.

The only noteworthy moments came late. She had a single glass left on her tray when an older lady approached.

She lowered her eyes, as she had been instructed to do.

'Champagne, ma'am?'

The lady picked up the glass and took a sip. 'You must be Alexander's newest acquistion.'

'As you say, Ma'am.'

'Tell me, little one,' the woman continued, obviously amused. 'Do you like it here?'

Phyllis fought back a sigh. 

'No, ma'am,' she answered quietly.

The woman laughed softly. 'Doesn't he treat you well?'

She thought for a long moment, carefully phrasing her reply.

'I am a prisoner here, ma'am,' she finally answered.

The lady smiled and touched Phyliss' bicep lightly.

'Hmmm,' she mused. 'Perhaps I should make an offer for you. Do you think you'd be happier serving me?'

'No ma'am,' Phyllis answered honestly.

'You seem rather sure of yourself. How can you know I wouldn't be a better owner?'

Finally, Phyllis lifted her head, looking into the woman's eyes-only for a moment. She wanted to punch the smugness out of her, but didn't dare.

'If you believe people can be bought and sold,' she said quietly, her gaze back on the floor, 'then I know I would be just as miserable as your prisoner as I am now.'

'Ma'am.'

The woman threw her head back and laughed loudly.

'Cheeky girl,' she said, smiling, and Phyllis slipped away to the kitchen.

Amazingly, for the first time all night, it was empty. She glanced around frantically, her eyes wide, and finally spotted a tiny paring knife. Feverishly, she wrapped a cloth napkin around the two inch blade, praying no one would come in and catch her.

She pressed her fingers against the sharp little blade, making sure it was protected by the napkin. With no other real option, she took a deep breath and carefully slid the whole thing up into her pussy, handle first, knowing what a huge risk she was taking.

If it slipped out, or if it sliced through the cloth and cut her...she shuddered to think of the punishment.

Still, it was after midnight, and worth the risk. A plan began forming in her mind.

The last hour or so of the party seemed to take an eternity. Her calves and toes were agony after a night walking around in heels, her heart was racing from fear of discovery, and with every step she was conscious of the little knife moving around inside her.

At long last, her Master said goodnight to the last guests. As soon as the door closed, all the girls kicked off their shoes with sighs of relief.

He went to each of his girls, hugging them tenderly. He saved Phyllis for last.

'I'm very proud of you Dove,' he said with genuine affection. 'I got many compliments because of you tonight.'

Phyllis wasn't sure how to respond. Finally, she settled for 'I'm glad, Master.'

He smiled and kissed her forehead. With his arm around her waist, he spoke to them all.

'We'll clean up this mess tomorrow. Right now, I know you're all tired. Hell, I'm tired. You're dismissed for the night.'

The girls went down to their rooms, Rogue and Kitten chattering about the party guests and the beautiful jewels they had been wearing. Dove just wanted to get to her room and hide her weapon.

For the moment, the safest place seemed to be under her mattress. Too exhausted and stressed out to do anything else, she slipped off her absurd outfit, brushed her teeth, and fell asleep naked.

For the first time in ages, an old friend visited her in her dreams-her old friend hope.



Dove's Tale Ch. 05



IT WAS late the next morning when he came and woke her up.

She heard the hated nickname being called...'Dove! Dove!'...and rolled over, grumbling. His voice was amused as he continued.

'Time to get up Dove,' he said even louder.

As the fog of sleep slowly cleared, Phyllis recognized her surroundings and his voice. She let out a deep, miserable sigh.

Her Master ignored it. He was in a cheerful mood.

'Did you sleep well pet? You certainly slept late,' he chuckled.

'Yes.

'Master,' 

she mumbled, struggling into a sitting position on the edge of her bed.

He smirked and set a cup of tea on the tiny table next to her bed. 'Five minutes pet,' he said, mussing her hair. She tried not to flinch away from his touch.

Whistling, he left the room. Phyllis peed, splashed some water on her face, brushed her teeth and hair, and drank some of the warm tea. She felt almost human when he reappeared in the doorway.

'Come along Dove,' he commanded gently.

She reached for her *skirt*, but he shook his head.

'You don't need that this morning pet. But since I'm in such a good mood, I won't make you crawl.'

She turned away from him to set the tiny garment on her bed, letting her eyes close and her teeth clench for a moment to dispel her anger.

'Thank you.

'Master,' 

she said in what she hoped was a humble tone, then followed him down the hall.

He led her to another room she hadn't been in. Large, sparsely furnished, with a thick, luxurious white carpet that her feet sank into.

The other three girls were already there, standing meekly in a row with their hands behind their backs. They were wearing identical black shorts, and each was gagged. Phyllis noted with dismay the way their eyes lit up when he entered the room.

'God, they really do adore the bastard,' she thought sadly.

He led her to the end of the row, and handed her a pair of the black shorts. They were leather, or fake leather, and she bit back a gasp when she saw there was a small fake cock sewn into the crotch. 

Her Master crossed his arms and waited. She wanted more than anything to throw the sick thing in his face and storm out of the room, but knew she couldn't. Instead, she stepped into the shorts and pulled them up her legs.

The dildo was only about four inches long and no thicker than her thumb, and even without lube it was little trouble to get it inside her body. The shorts fit snugly, but not uncomfortably, and she could tell without looking they were cut both high and low in the back, leaving most of her butt uncovered.

He tilted his head and seemed to be waiting for something. Phyllis looked puzzled for a moment, then realized what he expected-how he expected her to degrade herself.

'Thank you.

'Master,' 

she whimpered, and he nodded with satisfaction.

Next, he gagged her same as the others. There was a similiar fake cock on the gag, but shorter. Her face reddened as he buckled it around her head.

The other girls were watching him intently, almost eagerly. He picked up a remote and Phyllis shivered in fear, remembering the last time he had used a remote control device on her.

But nothing happened to her when he pressed the button. Instead, four sets of handcuffs came down from the ceiling, dangling in a circle in the middle of the room.

'Come, my pets,' he crooned. The others made soft sounds of excitement as they were directed to stand directly under a pair of the hanging cuffs. Phyllis saw that each set was at a different height, corresponding to the varying heights of the girls.

'You all know the game. Hold on to the cuffs and don't let go no matter what.'

Phyllis obediently reached up and gripped the handcuffs firmly. They weren't too high-her arms were bent at a little more than a 45 degree angle.

And with every step, with every movement, hell with every breath, the toy jiggled around inside her. It wasn't really hard-it was spongey, and small enough to press and rub a different spot every time it moved. It felt odd but not unpleasant.

He had a many-tailed flogger in his hand. Kitten was on Phyllis' right, and she watched, her stomach twisting in fear and revulsion, as he flicked his wrist and lashed her bare back.

Only...there was no loud crack, no moan of pain-Kitten just shuddered as the blow landed, and the noises she made behind her gag sounded more like pleasure than pain.

Rogue was directly opposite Phyllis, and Trouble was to her left. Both received a lash, and both reacted to it the way you'd expect a woman to react to a lover's carress.

She heard him whisper, 'This won't hurt, little Dove,' and felt the flogger stroke her skin. He wasn't lying-the whip was too soft, the blow too gentle, to cause pain. It slid across her back like a kitten's whiskers.

He walked around and around the circle, fluttering the flogger over the girl's backs and rumps. Phyllis watched Rogue, only a few feet away right in front of her, as her eyes started to blaze with passion and her hips started to twitch.

'This little excersize is to remind you girls,' he lectured as the soft whip fell again and again, 'that you belong to me. Whatever I choose to give you-pain, pleasure, punishment, or any combination-you will accept gratefully.'

The other girls were all panting and moaning around the dildo gags in their mouths. Phyllis saw him whisper something into Kittens ear, and the girl's eyes gleamed with delight.

The red haired slave leaned forward and spread her feet apart, her hips wiggling voluptuously. He chuckled and flicked the whip up, letting the tails of the flogger kiss her between the legs.

Even with the gag, Kitten's groan of pleasure was clearly audible.

He whispered to Rogue as well, and the action was repeated. The diminutive girl gasped and moaned, clinging to the cuffs above her head as her hips bucked shamelessly.

Trouble was more demure, but her arousal was obvious from the glazed look in her eyes and the quivering of her spread legs as the flogger slid over her barely covered groin.

Phyllis sunk her teeth into the little fake cock in her mouth when she felt his lips brush her ear, but he surprised her.

'Keep watching, little pet,' he crooned. 'Watch and learn from your sisters. Next time, I'll ask if you want it the way they're getting it.'

He stepped back and flicked the whip, lashing it across her almost nude bottom. Her hips twitched reflexively, making the dildo in her pussy jiggle around inside her.

She was confused and puzzled by her reaction. It did feel good, she had to admit to herself. It had been so long since she'd felt any true pleasure or arousal that this little bit of excitement made her feel like a dam holding back a raging river. She was afraid to let herself go, afraid to truly enjoy the sensations, afraid that if she started she would lose control completely.

She watched the other girls squirming, moaning, giving in to the ecstacy, sucking on the gags in their mouths as the flogger carressed between their legs. Her own body was responding, the heat between her legs so unfamiliar and yet so welcome.

She was torn. Half of her wanted to fight it, half of her seemed to shrug and say 'Why not? Don't we deserve some pleasure in the midst of all this misery?'

Alexander smirked as he approached his Dove again, noting the way she ground her thighs together, knowing the scene was getting to her.

'Spread your legs if you want to, pet,' he whispered, then stepped back and waited a moment. She almost did-her hips twitched adorably and her back arched, but she wasn't quite ready yet. Smiling confidently, he ran the flogger over her lovely ass again, his grin widening when she couldn't hold back a soft sigh.

He brushed his hand over her hair as he walked past. 'Keep watching Dove,' he ordered gently, smirking as her head popped up obediently.

She watched wide eyed as he went around the circle again, giving each of the other girls a soft lash between the legs. All three were shamelessly trembling and panting with delight, seemingly on the verge of climax.

She heard his voice in her ear again, deep and soft and seductive. 'Do it Dove. You know you want to,' and helplessly she widened her stance, tears filling her eyes as she gave in to her body's demands.

The flogger licked hotly between her legs, and she squealed her joy, her knees shaking as long-dormant fires ignited inside her. She could barely focus her eyes as he moved on to the next girl, and found herself aching for his return, her sex throbbing with need, pulsing around the too-small toy inside her.

She heard Trouble's gasp of pleasure and eagerly arched her back, her pert bottom wiggling in anticipation as he moved behind her-and moaned in frustration when the blow fell across her buttocks instead of where she wanted it so desperately.

And then it was over. He had them let go of the cuffs and remove each other's gags. Phyllis flexed her lips and jaw as Kitten slipped the fake cock out of her mouth, then returned the favor, unfastening the girls gag.

She flushed as she gained a little control, stunned by what had occurred. Her desire was a sweet, burning ache in her belly and groin.

'I want you girls to clean up the mess from the party. Dove, you listen to Kitten-she knows where everything goes.'

Phyllis nodded and bowed her head, slipping back easily into the role of reluctant, scared slave girl.

Alexander chuckled. 'If you need to use the bathroom, come to my study and ask permission. Otherwise, you all get to wear those shorts all day.'

Looking down at her feet, Dove's eyes went wide again with dismay. To her surprise, the other girls seemed delighted at the prospect. Rogue even made a humming sound that almost sounded like contented purring.

He clapped his hands softly. 'To work girls. Brunch in a couple hours.'

With all four of them working, it didn't take long to clean up all the debris from the party. She knew Alexander had servants-three afternoons a week, the girls were confined to their rooms so his maid service could clean without discovering his secret, and the kitchen area was usually off-limits because his excellent cook didn't know he had slaves either. The girls were usually only responsible for keeping their own rooms and the playrooms clean.

But today he had given them this chore. The girls wiped tables, swept floors, ran vacuums-and all the while the little dildos in their shorts wiggled around inside them.

The toy was keeping her arousal steadily simmering. Phyllis hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was honestly wet-and it felt good.

She was glad she'd gone to the bathroom before she had to put the shorts on though-she wasn't looking forward to going to him and asking permission to pee. Two of the other girls did as they were cleaning, and came back blushing and giggling. Phyllis wondered if they'd relieved themselves in more than one way in the restroom.

The other girls laughed a lot and playfully teased each other as they worked. Phyllis stayed quiet and somber, but her mind was racing. They seemed genuinely happy with their situation, and seemed to truly care for one another-and from the soft smiles and gentle words that came her way, they seemed to care for her as well.

When everything was cleaned to Kitten's satisfaction, they all went to the kitchen and prepared brunch. Basic stuff-Alexander cooked bacon, joking 'It's a bad idea for topless girls to do this,' and there were scrambled eggs, toasted bagels, orange juice, hash browns, and fresh fruit.

It was a pleasant meal-no humiliations, no anger, and a relaxed atmosphere. Phyllis had more appetite than usual, and ate a strip of the crisp bacon, half a bagel, and several forkfulls of fluffy eggs.

She felt pleasantly full after, and they all took an hour to 'let the food settle.'

Finally, the demands of her bladder were too insistent to ignore, and she went to ask him if she could use the bathroom.

'Of course Dove,' he said distractedly, looking over some papers. 'But don't do anything else-understood?'

She blushed softly. She hadn't been planning on it, but it was unsettling how he seemed to know she'd been wondering about it.

'I understand.

'Master.'

'When you're done, pop back and tell me you're returning to the den.'

Phyllis feared he would subject her to some kind of humiliating inspection, but when she leaned through the doorway, he merely glanced up and nodded.

After a bit, Barry came in and gave them all brand new athletic shoes-a signal that they were to go to the workout room.

Alexander had a very impressive home gym, and Phyllis relished the opportunity to use it after so many weeks of idleness. Still, using the stair climber and treadmill bare breasted, with the small dildo jostling around inside her, was an exquisite kind of torment.

At one point, Rogue actually hopped off the treadmill and collapsed to the floor, shuddering and whimpering just short of a climax. Kitten came over and held the small girl gently, stroking her hair and murmuring soothingly as the hapless girl quivered in her arms.

Phyllis wasn't any where close to that level of arousal, but she was appalled by how quickly she tired, and vowed to use the equipment as often as she could. Then she remembered the tiny knife hidden in her room, and almost chuckled.

'Hopefully I won't be here long enough to get back in shape,' she thought.

After working up a good sweat, Kitten led the girls through some stretching and yoga poses as a cool down. A quick group shower and it was almost time for supper.

Yankee pot roast, with potatoes, carrots and onion, plus a salad and bread-Phyllis still ate slowly and said little, but the workout and long day had given her a pretty good appetite, and again she ate more than she usually did.

It wasn't as relaxed as lunch had been-Alexander used the time to quiz the girls on house rules, positions, and what they should do in various scenarios.

She found herself staring at her fork in amazement. 'I can't believe this is starting to seem mundane,' she thought. 'Sitting at the dinner table, topless, with a dildo shoved up my snatch, answering questions about how to be a better slave-this is too fucking surreal.'

She curled her left hand into a fist and dug her nails into her palm to stifle hysterical giggles.

After eating, they went into the TV room, where Alexander popped in a DVD of old Bugs Bunny cartoons. He chuckled through a couple episodes. It was so strange-he was an intelligent, extremely successful businessman and a cruel sexual sadist, yet his taste in entertainment hadn't changed much since he was eight years old.

Phyllis tried to act the same way she'd been acting the last few weeks-depressed, disinterested, listless-but between the anxiety of having a knife hidden in her room and the constant, low level stimulation between her legs she found it hard to keep that 'mask' on. A full day of wearing the dildo shorts had her on edge-she wanted to squirm, to fondle her breasts and rub between her legs and relieve the pressure and heat that had been slowly building for so many hours.

Alexander was in his black recliner, facing the TV, and the girls were of course on the floor. Rogue was at his right, snuggling against his leg as he petted her hair idly. Phyllis was to his left, close enough to touch although mercifully he mostly left her alone. Kitten and Trouble sat a few feet away with their arms around each other, whispering and giggling as they watched the cartoons.

The show ended, and he turned the TV off. It was getting dark, and the lamplight in the room was soft and gentle.

'Line up, my pets,' he commanded, his voice soft but confident, secure in the knowledge that he would be obeyed. 'Cat,' he added.

The four girls assumed the position before his chair, kneeling on their palms. Phyllis wasn't sure if it was easier or harder to pose like a doll when she was part of the group.

He smiled and reached down to carress each girl's face, coaxing them to lift their heads higher. Phyllis was on one end of the row, and when he got to Trouble on the other end, he guided her closer.

'Would you like to cum little one?' he asked the little blonde girl, his voice cheerful and amused.

'Oh yes Master,' she purred, gazing up at him adoringly.

He patted her head tenderly and nudged her back into line, bringing Kitten to his feet.

'Would my Kitten like to make her little pussy cum?' he asked.

'Mmmm yes please Master,' came the response. He pulled her head up and whispered in her ear, and the girl shivered with obvious delight and nodded.

Smirking, he looked down at Rogue, who had 'suffered' the most from the day's activities.

'I don't need to ask you, do I pet?' he laughed softly, and the tiny brunette blushed lightly, biting her bottom lip, her quivering body betraying her need.

Finally, he turned his head and looked at Phyllis curiously. He reached down and cupped her chin gently, urging her to crawl a little closer, looking into her eyes and trying to gauge what he saw there.

'What about you, my little Dove?' he asked softly. 'Would you like to have an orgasm?'

'I...I'm...I'm not sure,' she stammered, her voice little more than a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Look into your heart, little one. Forget for a moment what you think you *should* do, and discover what you truly *want* to do.'

Phyllis closed her eyes for a second. There was a dull, unfulfilled ache in the pit of her stomach. Her pussy pulsed and throbbed around the too-small dildo that moved inside her with every breath she took.

It had been so long! She hadn't felt true desire during her entire captivity, and now months of pent-up frustration were building to a peak inside her.

She took a slow, deep breath and opened her eyes, gazing up at the man she was forced to call Master. One of his biggest rules was to never lie, and she clung to that as she answered honestly.

'Yes.

'Master.'

His smile was genuine.

'Yes what, my pet?'

Her face got warm, but she knew what he wanted.

'Yes, I want to have an orgasm.

'Master.'

He bent down and kissed her forehead with surprising tenderness.

'Master is very proud of you pet,' he whispered.

He leaned back in his chair, and Phyllis crawled back into the line, her heart pounding. 

'Ok Kitten,' he said simply, and the red haired girl rose and walked across the room, her lovely backside twitching and swaying gracefully. She returned carrying a small leather bag-like an overnight bag. Kneeling in front of him, she lowered her head and offered it up.

'Shorts off girls,' he said as he unzipped the bag.

Kitten grabbed four pillows off the couch, dropping one behind each of the girls. Phyllis hesitated for a moment, until she saw how eagerly the others were stripping. There were gasps as they pulled the black shorts down far enough for the toys to pop free, and then all four girls were kneeling naked on the floor, gazing up at their Master eagerly, adoringly, or (in Phyllis' case) with a combination of curiosity and reluctance.

Alexander looked down at Trouble, enjoying her shy but lustful expression. 'Rabbit or wand?' he asked her softly.

'Rabbit please, Master,' she replied, blushing.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a fancy vibrator. Phyllis had seen them on the internet-rabbit style vibrators were pretty common. She shivered a little as Trouble took the toy with a murmured 'thank you Master.'

He turned his head slightly, and Kitten didn't hesitate-she didn't even wait for him to ask. 'Wand please, Master' she said grinning, and he gave her a foot long Hitachi style toy-another one Phyllis had seen pictures of.

'Rogue I assume you want your favorite?' he asked, chuckling softly.

'Please Master,' the girl purred, her voice husky with pent-up passion. He dipped his hand into the bag again and produced a black vibrator with a gold tip that Rogue accepted eagerly.




Dove's Tale Ch. 05



'Wait girls,' he ordered quietly as his gaze came to rest on Phyllis.

'When my men searched, they didn't find any sex toys. Have you ever used a vibrator pet?

'No.

Master,' she answered honestly.

He rubbed his chin and hummed thoughtfully.

'Master?' Kitten spoke up softly. 

Yes pet?'

'If it's Dove's first time, something simple. May I please?'

He nodded, and she knelt up to look in the bag. Finding a plain, slim white vibe, she held it up for his approval.

He gave her a little smile, and leaned closer to whisper something.

Phyllis watched, excited and aroused, as Kitten came over to where she knelt. Next to her, Rogue was caressing her black and gold toy lovingly, her upturned bottom quivering with desire.

Suddenly, a horrible thought hit her, and she looked up at their Master.

'Are these things new?' she asked earnestly.

Everyone laughed. 'Don't worry Dove,' he said chuckling. 'If they were ever used, they've been very thoroughly sterilized.'

Kitten put a gentle hand and Phyllis' shoulder, guiding her back until she lay on the floor, her head on a pillow. The tall girl stroked Phyllis' forehead, brushing her hair away from her face.

'Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to you,' Kitten said, smiling gently. 'Just help a little.'

She continued to talk softly and stroke Phyllis' hair. 'There's a button on the end for your thumb. Push to turn it on low, again for medium and high.'

Kitten leaned down until her lips were right next to Phyllis' ear. 'Forget about the room, the situation, everything-nothing matters but the pleasure. Close your eyes and let your body guide you. This pleasure is yours-take it all.'

She brushed her thumb tenderly over Phyllis' cheek, and then she was gone. She heard their Master's voice softly rumble 'Enjoy yourselves, pets,' and then the buzzing sounds of the toys and soft gasps and mewls of pleasure from the others.

Phyllis pressed the button and felt the vibrator come to life in her hand. Cautiously, she slid it up and down her quivering inner thighs, and brushed it softly over her wet sex.

'Oooooh,' she gasped, stretching her neck as the slim hard plastic kissed her aching lips. She could hear the other girls moans, but they seemed far away as she experimented to find what felt best.

She slid the toy up and down gently in her slit, letting out a surprised squeak when it touched her pearl. The little bud of her clit popped awake, and she started licking her lips, her firm breasts rising and falling as she breathed faster.

Phyllis brought her feet up and let her knees fall open, holding the buzzing toy against her creamy hole and now throbbing clit. She barely moved the vibrator, her body shuddering as she savored the sensations flowing through her.

Alexander leaned back in his big chair, taking a sip of fine red wine as he watched the erotic tableaux. Trouble had splayed her legs wide and was holding her rabbit vibe with both hands, slowly thrusting it in and out of her soaked pussy. The sounds she made each time the clit tickler on the toy's shaft bumped against her sensitive button were arousing and adorable.

Kitten had rolled onto her right hip, sitting up partway, parting her pussy lips with two fingers on her left hand as she caressed herself with the round knob of the wand. Her eyes were glazed with pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the vibrations drove her wild.

Rogue had found a rhythymn-she would slide her vibe up and down, letting the full length caress her pearl, then plunge it into her hole. Her hips lifted and wiggled as the toy massaged her inner walls, then settled back onto the carpet as it slid out to stroke her clit again.

It was all so beautiful-he loved watching his pets get themselves off. And when you added Dove to the mix...

She looked so cute and so sexy, tentatively rubbing herself with the white vibe, her body's needs and desires overwhelming her resistance. His smirk returned as he watched her intently, his cock throbbing in his slacks. Another barrier knocked down...

Phyllis could hear Rogue next to her, panting and thrashing. The sweet scent of arousal filled her head, and she got a thrill realizing some of it was coming from her. She pushed the button again, groaning as the vibrations got stronger. Suddenly little Rogue howled as her climax roared through her.

Kitten and Trouble followed in quick succession, the tiny blonde's cute squeaks of delight mixing wonderfully with Kitten's passionate snarls. Phyllis tossed her head from side to side, her hips rolling and tossing, hanging at the edge...

And then she peaked. Months of denial and frustration flew away as her orgasm tore through her. She bucked her hips and shamelessly rode the waves of pleasure.

'This is mine,' she thought feverishly, 'all mine!'

Rogue rolled to her, wrapping her slim arms round Phyllis and nuzzling her tenderly as she panted and quivered.

'You're so beautiful when you cum,' she giggled, and Phyllis smiled weakly.

The other girls were soon there, cuddling and sharing sweet kisses-it was loving and playful, but not really sexual.

Phyllis felt her heart opening to these other girls, reveling in what they had just shared. She didn't think she'd ever cum so hard in her life.

She closed her eyes, cocooned among the soft, warm bodies of her sisters...and realized the day had changed her. A part of her was gone, never to be found again.

She wondered if she would miss it.



Dove's Tale Ch. 06



IT WAS

so

god damn

frustrating.

She had a weapon-she had a plan-and she could not get the opportunity.

Phyllis refused to believe he somehow knew about the little knife hidden in her room. She was sure if he found out, she wouldn't live an hour.

Still, it was uncanny and supremely frustrating that after coming into her cell night after night, sitting in her chair and getting a blowjob-the exact scenario she had planned for-he had changed things up.

First, he started cuffing her hands behind her back, saying she 'needed to get better at using just her mouth.' It made it impossible to grab and use the knife.

Then he kept disappearing for three or four days at a time. She certainly didn't mind not having to deal with him, but it extended the amount of time she was stuck here, and made the tension build.

She tried to stop her jaw from clenching, tried to control the anger and keep her expression slack and neutral. If she gave into her rage, she'd forget her plan and try to kill him. And while he deserved to die for everything he had done, she wanted him alive.

Everything he had done, she thought bitterly. Not just to her, but to Kitten and Rogue as well.

She thought about what Kitten had told her, and her lips quivered with sadness and anger.

A few times, he had told her to spend the night in Kitten's room. Not to have sex-just on a whim.

Phyllis was still mostly silent and withdrawn, but the two girls did talk some. She actually liked Kitten, who was smart and sweet and struck her as competent-someone who could deal with almost anything.

So one morning, after they woke tangled up together in the not-quite-big-enough-for-two-people bed, Phyllis told her.

'I can understand the other girls. Rogue is just submissive-this is like a dream come true for her. And Trouble thinks that...man hung the stars in the sky.'

Phyllis shook her head. 'But I don't get you. Why does someone as bright as you obey someone who's such an evil bastard so eagerly?'

Kitten smiled and brushed Phyllis' hair away from her face in a very big sisterly manner.

'You don't understand Dove. This is all I've ever known. I was born into this.'

She almost laughed at the puzzled look on Phyllis' face.

'My mom was a slave, just like me. I've been serving and obeying my whole life.'

'Dear god,' Phyllis muttered, shocked. 'You've never been free?'

Kitten shook her head, still smiling gently. 'Nope. I wouldn't have any idea what to do on my own. This IS my life.'

She ran her fingers through Phyllis' hair again. 'Don't look so upset hon. It really hasn't been a bad life. I've always lived in palaces, I've never wanted for anything. I've only ever had to worry about one thing-pleasing my Master or Mistress.'

'Yeah but...I just...'

Now Kitten did laugh. 'I know, I know. I'm supposed to be all sad and bitter and yearn for freedom. But honestly, I can't even imagine it.'

'I'll tell you something else,' she continued. 'This is a pretty easy gig. Trust me-there are a LOT of worse owners.'

'That's hard to believe,' Phyllis said, frowning.

'That's because you never really made it past the training stage. Training is always rough. Even for me-when Master first brought me here, he needed to teach me how to do things his way. It was hard.'

Phyllis couldn't think of anything to say.

'Even now, you're still fighting. Yeah, you obey, but it's mechanical. You still haven't embraced and accepted your position. When you do, you'll be much happier.'

Phyllis scowled. 'No offense, but I hope that never happens.'

Still, as much as Kitten's story made her seethe and grind her teeth, it was nothing compared to what happened to poor Rogue.

He liked to lock her in a chastity belt when he went away, knowing that a few days of total abstinence would leave her panting eagerly for him when he returned.

One night, a couple weeks ago, he came home as the girls were finishing supper. He had taken them all into a parlor, pulling them onto his lap one after the other to cuddle and fondle them.

The others cooed and purred happily. It took all of Phyllis' willpower to endure his groping.

Then he'd fallen asleep on the couch, reminding them all that he was a man in his 40's. After a while, Kitten sent the rest of them to their rooms.

Phyllis was awakened at some point in the wee hours by shouts, banging and cries of pain. She shuddered when she realized it was her Master yelling angrily.

'All you bitches get out here-NOW!' he bellowed, punctuating the high volume command by slamming his hand against the wall.

Terrified, Phyllis hurried out into the hall. He was still dressed, his hair disheveled, one strong hand gripping a sobbing Rogue firmly by the hair.

'Come!' he growled, and stomped down the hallway, half dragging the small girl.

Rogue cried and whimpered, saying 'please Master please' over and over until he stopped and jerked her upright, making her squeal in pain as he yanked her brown and white hair cruelly.

'Shut the fuck up whore, or I'll cut your fucking tits off!'

Rogue trembled and clenched her lips, tears rolling down her face. In the dim light, Phyllis could see her eyes were wide with terror.

He dragged her the rest of the way to one of the punishment rooms and flung her inside. She fell heavily, her head hanging, and the other girls followed reluctantly.

'Kitten!' he barked. 'Put that bitch in the frame.'

'Yes Master,' she whispered fearfully, and went to the cowering girl on the floor. She said something too soft for anyone else to hear as she helped Rogue to her feet. The 'frame' was simply two floor-to-ceiling posts with wrist and ankle cuffs.

Crying, Rogue didn't resist at all as Kitten locked the cuffs in place.

Their Master turned to Trouble. 'Fetch the black whip off the wall,' he ordered.

She hurried to get the instrument, her legs quaking, as he pulled a lever that hoisted Rogue into the air, a helpless, spread-eagled X, all her weight supported by her arms.

Trouble knelt and held the whip up for him. It was an evil looking thing. Phyllis stood with her fists pressed against her mouth. His eyes blazed with anger.

Trouble crawled hurriedly out of the way, going to Kitten as he cracked the whip-the sound loud as a gunshot in the small room. 

'Not one night,' he snarled. 'You couldn't wait one fucking night!'

He swung the whip, and it lashed the hanging girl across the back. Rogue screamed her agony, a fiery red stripe across her shoulder blades.

'Fucking worthless whore!' he yelled, and the whip fell again and again. Phyllis realized this wasn't some toy-this was a brutal, sadistic instrument designed solely to injure.

'I cannot fucking believe ...I caught you playing with yourself  without permission!'

Rogue's screams had dissolved into sobs as the whip fell again and again. Bright red blood dripped down her body.

'I'm done with you,' he snarled as the whip ripped across her buttocks. 'You wanna be a whore? Fine! I'm shipping your slut ass to Bangcock!'

He rained lashes over her ass, the whip tearing the hapless girl's skin. Phyllis was crying and fighting the urge to be sick. Kitten and Trouble clung to each other, shivering as they watched helplessly.

Another blow landed across her back, and Rogue's battered body arched, her scream of agony echoing.

Kitten took a step towards them. 'Master, please,' she began.

He whirled, brandishing the whip, his expression insane.

'Silence!' he shouted. 'One more fucking word from any of you cunts and I double her punishment-and you get a taste too!'

Gasping, Kitten fled back to her place. Again and again the whip sang, ripping Rogue's skin. She hung limp in her bonds, and Phyllis hoped she was unconscious. Her back and butt looked like raw hamburger.

Finally, panting and sweating, he stopped. He turned and saw Barry, who had heard the commotion and now stood in the doorway.

'Throw this piece of shit in one of the black cells. If she's still alive tomorrow, we're sending her to Thailand.'

With a nod, his expression blank and stoic as ever, Barry got the girl down from the frame and carried her out of the room.

Alexander glared at the three remaining girls, his lip still twitching with anger.

'I've been too soft on you bitches. From now on, any infraction, any rule breaking, any fuck-ups will be PUNISHED!'

He locked his eyes on the cringing girls, as if daring any of them to say a word, still breathing heavily. Finally, he shook his head in disgust.

'Get your dumb asses to bed.'

That was the last any of them had seen Rogue. He made it clear the next day that they were not to ask, not to wonder, not even to speak her name. Phyllis wondered if she had survived the ordeal, and if she had, if she wished she hadn't.

True to his word, he had been harsher ever since-quicker to anger, faster to slap or paddle. Their workouts got harder, their sexual use rougher, and praise was rare to non-existent.

For Phyllis, he added a new wrinkle-she thought of them as 'those fucking headphones.' For an hour a day, she was strapped down in a pitch black, silent room, headphones over her ears, forced to listen to what he called 'training messages.'

The tapes were the soft sounds of women gasping and moaning in obvious ecstasy, and over the top of that a woman's voice, low, soothing and hypnotic, repeating over and over...

'I will be a good slave.'

'I live to please my Master.'

'My pleasure comes from Master's pleasure.'

'I'm lucky to have such a wonderful Master.'

'My Master makes me so hot.'

And on and on and on. She hated those sessions, hated every second. Her mind screamed a negation of every nauseating phrase as it was whispered. By the time each tape ended and she was released, it was a struggle to control her anger and not lash out at whoever came to get her.

She knew she needed that cover-lifeless, unhappy, emotionless-if she expected him to keep his guard down. But it was so hard-those goddamn tapes brought all her old rage and fury to life. 

'Control,' she thought, repeating the word in her mind like a mantra. She didn't want to kill him-that wasn't the plan. She just wanted to incapacitate him, hurt him, tie his hands (that rag he had given her to wear would work until she could get a pair of cuffs), and then force him to take her to a phone or a computer with Internet access. 

She knew no matter where in the world she was, if she could get through to either a US embassy or Interpol, she could get help-could get rescued-and send that sonofabitch to jail.

But if she killed him, she'd still be trapped behind impossible to break through doors, doomed to face Barry with nothing but a knife designed for peeling vegetables.

At last, the door to her cell opened and he was there. He looked at her and nodded sternly, seeing she was kneeling on her pillow the way he'd commanded her to.

In moments came the hated order 'Cat,' and she obediently knelt in the humiliating position. He smirked and ran his hand possessively over her back, legs and rump. Phyllis closed her eyes and shivered as she endured his caresses.

Soon enough, his fingers wandered between her legs, fondling her sex. She fought to stay still, her skin crawling, as he stroked her nether lips and clit.

She moistened-a little-but there was no pleasure in it. It was just her body's automatic response-the animal in her anticipating mating.

She remembered with a bit of satisfaction how puzzled he was by her lack of response, even after her first and only orgasm as his captive.

'I thought we were past this foolishness, little Dove,' he muttered. 'Didn't you learn the other night how much better it was if you let yourself enjoy?'

She wanted to rave at him, to snarl and scream at his clueless arrogance, but forced herself to keep her voice a bland monotone.

'This is completely different.

Master.'

'Explain.'

She bit her lip. 'Please remember that I must always tell the truth.

Master.'

'Yes, yes,' he said impatiently.

'I was able to find pleasure because you weren't touching me. I was able to block out your presence-your very existence-and do it for myself.'

'Plus,' she continued, 'you gave me the choice. That mattered a lot.

Master.'

He chuckled and continued to stroke her. 'You're getting wet though, little pet,' he said, a note of triumph in his voice.

'As you say.

Master.'

His fingers found her pearl, coaxing it out of it's hiding spot with gentle rubs and pinchs. She couldn't stay still. She quivered with disgust, and her hips twitched, her body aching to get away from his hateful touch.

In his overconfidence, he mistook her movements for arousal. He slid a finger into her, slowly gliding it in and out.

'Do you want me to stop?' he asked, mocking what he thought was her against-her-will lust.

She surprised him by answering firmly.

'Yes.

Master.'

He raised an eyebrow and finger-fucked her a little faster.

'Are you certain pet? All you have to do is ask, and Master will let you climax.'

It took every bit of willpower and control not to scream 'yes I'm fucking certain! Stop molesting me!'

Instead, she answered in the same monotone.

'Yes.

I'm certain.

Master.'

On this night, he skipped the futile ritual of trying to arouse her passions. Instead, after asserting his control by groping her, he gave her a pat between the legs-and moved to his chair.

'Snack time, slave girl,' he smirked.

Phyllis' mind was screaming with excitement, but she forced herself to move slowly, keeping up the reluctant charade.

Her hands shook as she undid his belt and opened his slacks, freeing his hardon. She thought about her plan as she began to minister to him with her mouth.

She knew his habits so well. He would watch for a bit, enjoying the sight of his slave girl giving him head, then lean back and realax. That's when she reached a hand under the little pillow and gripped the small knife.

So many times, kneeling in this exact spot, she had fought the urge to try to bite his horrid cock off. Now, at long last, she didn't have to hold back.

Her tongue stroked and fluttered, wanting him lost in passion, as she maneuvered his penis until her lips were wrapped around the very tender spot where the head and stalk joined.

With an animal snarl, she slammed her jaws together with all her strength, and at the same moment her hand jerked up, driving the knife into his inner thigh.

He howled in pain and surprise, reaching down to yank at her hair, but her teeth's grip was too strong,

And then she lost control. The taste of his blood flooding into her mouth threw her into a berserk frenzy. She tore at him with her teeth, and thrust the knife up between his legs again and again, stabbing and slicing his most sensitive spots.

He was screaming and thrashing, frantically trying to escape, as she cut him to ribbons with the little knife. Finally, in desperation, he flung a fist at her face, knocking her to the side.

He fell from the chair, both hands covering his bleeding groin, crying like a little girl. Phyllis shook her head to clear the cobwebs. Spying the knife between her and her victim, she snatched it up and attacked him with a wild yell.

She jumped on his back, slashing wildly at his face, neck and throat, her fingers clawing for his eyes, her teeth snapping, seeking purchase. All rational thought flew from her, and she was overcome with bloodlust and the drive for vengeance...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alexander hummed contentedly as he strutted down the slave hall. He opened the last door and flicked on the lowest light, chuckling as he watched the girl on the bed squirm and murmur, obviously in the middle of an enjoyable, active dream.

'Good morning, little Dove,' he called cheerfully.

She stretched adorably, yawning and muttering. After a moment, her eyes focused enough to see him standing in the doorway.

She stretched her body again, languidly, sensuously, kicking the sheet off her nude body and spreading her legs wantonly. Her eyes sparkled and shone with adoration.

'Master!' she purred joyfully.



Dove's Tale Ch. 07



The comments about Ch. 6 were almost entirely negative, and I don't blame people for not liking how that chapter unfolded-I didn't like it either. I actually re-wrote it three separate times, but each time it ended the same way. I really thought that was the end, and it bothered me-I didn't want Phyllis' story to finish that way.

Suddenly, just last night, inspiration hit, and I blazed through this chapter with no effort at all.

I make this pledge-there will be no more 'dream sequences' ever in this story!

*****

PHYLLIS jerked awake with a mild curse, then swore louder as her head thumped against the concrete wall.

'Son of a fucking bitch!' she snarled, slumping down on the thin mat and touching the back of her head gingerly. In the little rooms Alexander called the black cells, there were no blankets or pillows, just a narrow pad to sleep on. Phyllis couldn't sleep flat on her back or stomach, and without a pillow sleeping on her side gave her a sore neck.

So she'd gotten into the habit of falling asleep propped partway up in a corner, and waking up suddenly had caused her to smack her head.

She rubbed her fingers against her cheek, trying to determine if they felt slick. The cell was pitch black, so she couldn't see if there was any blood, but her hand felt dry.

She took a couple deep, slow breaths. 'Fuucckk,' she said softly.

Ever since the bastard had brutally whipped Rogue, she'd been having vivid, intense dreams. She liked the one where she cut him up and bit off his dick-hell she even day-dreamed that one when she was awake.

But there were too many nightmares-nightmares in which it was her, not Rogue tied between two poles while the bastard tore up her body with a brutal whip, or nightmares of being back at that horrible brothel.

And for the three or four days she'd been in the black cell, the worst nightmare of all-the one where she was thrilled to see him, eager to be used by him, the willing, enthusiastic sex slave he wanted her to become.

It was strange. Her time in the darkness had made her more determined than ever to keep resisting him any way she could when she was awake, while at the same time bringing on these nightmares of total submission when she slept.

'That's why they feel like nightmares,' Phyllis thought as she rubbed her face sleepily. 'It's your brain trying to deal with your worst fear.'

She felt her way along the wall to the toilet, peed, and sat back down on the mat, leaning her back against the wall. There was nothing else to do. The lights went on twice a day, when she was fed, and once a day Barry took her out to shower and brush her teeth. The other twenty-two hours a day, all she could do was sit and wait, pace, maybe do a few pushups...

And think about what she was going to do-how she was going to act-when he finally let her out.

She'd given up trying to figure out Alexander. Either he was nuts, or being unpredictable on purpose to keep her and the other girls off-balance. Either way, there was no guessing how he was going to react to anything anymore.

She should have gotten far worse than poor Rogue. Instead, he'd just chucked her into the dark and left her alone. Phyllis figured he thought it would be a horrible punishment-to be alone and bored for endless hours in the silent darkness.

It was backfiring. Alone in the dark, Phyllis could feel her strength and determination coming back. She had endured so much, been put through so much hell, and she was still here, still going, still herself.

She felt like she'd won.

She knew the bastard couldn't figure out how to deal with her. His plan had fallen apart, and his attempts to improvise had failed. Yes, she obeyed him out of fear, but he wanted so much more and she would *not* give it to him.

Her last day 'in the light' had actually started out pretty easy. She hadn't had to endure Alexander's presence until nearly noon, after breakfast and a long, tough workout supervised by the stone faced Barry.

A quick shower and Barry dismissed the other girls, leading Phyllis to one of the playrooms. She stood, naked and passive, while he put her in restraints-cuffs on her wrists and ankles, all connected by light chains. When he was finished, she couldn't raise her hands higher than her waist, or move her feet more than a foot apart.

Alexander entered and looked at her for a long time while she just stared at the floor, fighting to not show the anger and hatred in her heart.

'Dove,' he said at last, and she lifted her head slowly.

His expression grim, her captor reached into his jacket pocket and held up her little knife.

He didn't say a word as she stood there, chained and helpless, staring at the tiny knife she assumed sealed her fate.

Alexander thought she would break down, cry and plead and beg for mercy, but she confounded him again. As the realization he had found her weapon sank in, Phyllis felt light-headed, almost giddy. She was filled with the freedom of having nothing more to lose.

She finally looked him square in the eyes, her expression fearless and defiant. It was over, and the thought filled her with a bizarre sort of relief. 

'Do you even want to try and explain why this was in your room?'

'I thought I'd take up whittling,' she quipped, and oh god it felt good-so FUCKING good-to not have to kiss his worthless ass anymore she almost laughed.

His eyes narrowed. 'You're in enough trouble without the stupid jokes.'

'All right, I'll skip the jokes.'

Phyllis couldn't keep the smile off her face as slowly and deliberately, she said the words she'd been aching to say to him since he'd brought her back from Russia.

'Fuck...you.'

Alexander's face twisted with anger. He closed the distance between them with two quick steps and grabbed a handful of her hair. Yanking her head to the side, he pressed the sharp little blade against the side of her neck.

'This is plenty big to cut your throat, bitch,' he growled.

Phyllis felt the steel against her skin. What she didn't feel was fear.

'It woulda been more than big enough to cut off your tiny little dick,' she scoffed.

He leaned back and slapped her brutally, the blow splitting her lip open and rocking her head.

'Asshole,' she managed to gasp. He had hit her hard enough that she saw stars.

He gave her hair another yank, bringing them nose to nose. 'I will...'

'You won't do shit,' Phyllis spat, interrupting him. 'You can't afford to.'

'Don't...' he started again, and again she spoke over him.

'Your ego can't handle it. How are you gonna explain to your scumbag friends that you had to get rid of two slaves in just a few days because you couldn't control them?'

He looked at her and smirked. 'Maybe you're right. All the worse for you, little Dove. I'm going to break you.'

'Puh-leeze!' she scoffed. 'You've been trying to break me for months, and so far you haven't done shit.'

Phyllis looked at her captor, contempt in her eyes. 'Face it, Dickless,' she mocked. 'You're not just a worthless, raping piece of shit-you suck at it.'

Her bloody lips curled in a smile. 'So again. Fuck you.'

Alexander flung the knife across the room and stomped out. Phyllis laughed, savoring her moment of triumph until Barry came to carry her to the cell.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ALEXANDER set his phone down on his desk, even though what he really wanted to do was throw it against the wall, and continued pacing round his office.

Damn it. More bad news on top of bad news. It was getting to the point where he dreaded answering his phone.

His business empire had suffered setback after setback. His political maneuverings-in Russia, Eastern Europe, and the US-had been stymied again and again. He had lost millions directly in the last month, and lost the opportunity to make millions more.

Some of it was his own fault and some the fault of circumstances, but it was all frustrating.

That frustration, he knew, was the reason he had fucked up so badly dealing with Rogue. It was a minor offense, deserving a sound paddling at worst. Instead, he had over-reacted absurdly, and it had cost him both one of his favorite slave girls and his best weapon against Dove.

She drove him nuts. The recipe for training a girl was simple. Make her scared, make her dependent on you, punish unacceptable behavior harshly and reward good behavior lavishly. Once you became her only source of pleasure and comfort, she would begin to adore and worship you.

It was foolproof. It never failed. Until now.

'Fuck it,' he thought. 'We start again. Forget what's worked in the past-you have to figure out what will work with her.'

He nodded to himself, just as his computer beeped, warning him of a new priority message, and his phone rang at the same time.

'More bad news,' he sighed, and glumly went back to work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

HIS PLAN was keyed on keeping her off-balance and always unsure of what was going to happen.

He walked with his arm around Trouble, his hand idly fondling the blond girl's pert ass, leading her to a bedroom.

'Dove will be there, pet, but don't worry about her. Don't acknowledge her in any way. In fact, don't say a word.'

He looked down at the girl and smiled. 'Make all the noise you want-just no words. Understand?'

'Yes Master,' she purred. 

Phyllis was bound on the bed, gagged and blindfolded. She made muffled, snarling noises when she heard sounds in the room, but Alexander didn't worry about that, and Trouble had been ordered to ignore her sister, so she did.

Alexander bent the naked girl over the bed, her face close to Dove, and played with her until she was gasping and whimpering with need. Then he took her from behind, slowly and leisurely, wringing two powerful climaxes from his slave girl before blowing his load deep inside her.

And all during the scene, Phyllis was forced to helplessly listen to the sounds of their fucking, to Trouble's moans and squeals of delight, to all the noises of pleasure.

Alexander left her there for another half hour before sending Barry to take her back to her cell.

The next day, he had her bound standing, her hands high over her head, her ankles locked in a three foot spreader bar, gagged and blindfolded again.

She knew-she just knew-that that hated smirk was on his face as he fondled her. She could hear it in his voice.

She really was lovely, Alexander thought as he amused himself with her body. Oh, she needed to gain a few pounds, but that would come later. For now, it was important to leave her just a little bit hungry.

'You can deny the truth all you want, little Dove,' he murmured as his hand stroked her naked body, 'but the reality is all of this-all of you-belongs to me.'

He tugged and pinched her nipples into unwilling hardness with surprising gentleness, reinforcing the lesson verbally all the while. 

'Your pleasure-your pain-your comfort or your punishment-is all up to me.'

With a soft leather paddle, he tapped her ass, slowly warming up the luscious, firm cheeks until they turned a light pink.

'If I chose to, I could make this very painful. But for now, I'm just enjoying the way your buttocks jiggle.'

Phyllis snarled and growled incoherently behind her gag, yanking furiously but uselessly at her cuffs as the paddle beat a gentle tattoo on her behind.

Alexander chuckled, rubbing her ass firmly with the paddle. 'You will learn-you've already learned, you just won't admit it-that your will, your desires, don't matter.'

He gave her a few more gentle smacks, than slipped his other hand between her spread legs, stroking her soft as a feather.

'When you finally do stop fighting-and you will-ahhhh pet, then you will receive pleasure and fulfillment beyond your wildest dreams.'

He paused and frowned, watching her. She had stopped trying to yell, and was repeating the same two syllables over and over, all the while jerking her head up towards the ceiling.

Finally, he took the hint and looked up. His jaw clenched in anger when he saw she had both middle fingers stuck in the air.

'Close your hands, Dove,' he said, his voice quiet and thick with menace.

She shouted something, and instead wiggled her hands, emphasizing the defiant gesture.

He traded the leather paddle for hard, unyielding wood. 'You always have to push me. This could have been painless.'

The paddle cracked across her ass viciously. 'Close your hands now!' he ordered firmly.

She shrieked into her gag, her body jerking against her bonds, and did put her fingers down for a moment...

Only to put them right back up-then down, then up-flipping him off again and again.

Twice more the paddle landed, the sound of the blows filling the room.

'Last chance, slave girl. Put those fingers down or I will make certain you can't put them up.'

Tears trickled from beneath her blindfold, and her body shook with pain. Unable to see, she turned her head in his general direction, and tilted her chin up again.

Almost in disbelief, he looked up, to see her slowly raise her middle fingers yet again.

Three more times he swung the paddle, turning her buttocks from pink to bright, flaming red-and still she held her fingers up.

'Stupid bitch,' he snarled. 'Fine. You want to push me? I can push back harder.'

Phyllis screamed her fury and disgust, until she felt the sting of a hypodermic needle. Her hands went limp as she lapsed into unconsciousness.



Dove's Tale Ch. 08



'...ll be fine...'

'...no fever or infec...'

'...bigger dose than you needed to...'

'...soon as she wake...'

The voices were fuzzy, fading in and out. Phyllis wasn't sure if she woke up or imagined them. She vaguely recalled sipping water through a straw, and another time a cool, damp cloth gliding over her face.

Finally, her consciousness managed to swim through the fog for a few moments. She was lying on her back on a narrow bed, partly propped up, and felt so weak and groggy.

A soft voice said 'Hey,' and a gentle hand was on the back of her neck, supporting her head. Her eyes didn't want to focus, but she thought she saw blond hair and blue eyes.

The voice urged her to take a sip, and her lips closed around a straw. A little suction, and her mouth filled with cool water.

'Just a little more,' the voice said, and her head was softly lifted again. 

As she swallowed, the voice told her she was gonna be ok, but the darkness reclaimed her, her eyes giving up and closing as she went back to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

WITH a soft groan, her eyes blinking rapidly, Phyllis woke up, feeling disoriented and confused.

Kitten was there, sitting next to her bed with more water. 'Don't guzzle,' she warned, pulling the straw away after a couple gulps.

'How are you feeling?'

'I'm...ok,' Phyllis answered, her forehead creased as she took inventory of herself. She was kind of sitting up in a hospital-style bed. She still felt a little slow, like she'd been sleeping for days.

Her arms felt heavy, and she was wearing...mittens?

She started to try to get up, and felt the familiar, hated sensation of cuffs on her ankles, limiting her movements. There was a dull ache between her legs.

'Do you need a bed pan?' Kitten asked quietly.

Surprised by the question, she turned to look at the brunette girl.

'What the hell happened?' Phyllis asked. She lifted her right arm to gesture at her bed, and saw her hand was swathed in bandages.

'Well, you've been out for two days,' Kitten told her as she looked at her wrapped hands, her mind frozen. 'As for the rest, that's for Master to explain.'

'Ah, here he is,' she finished as the door opened. Kitten rose from her chair, and a quick whisper was exchanged before she slipped from the room.

She watched her captor smirk at her, and her mind replayed her last memories-what she had done, what he had said. She stared at her bandaged hands again, her stomach churning.

'No...he couldn't...he wouldn't...' she thought desperately.

Alexander reached down and tugged the thin sheet off the bed, leaving her naked. With no ceremony, he dropped his pants and crawled up between her bound legs.

'I warned you, slave girl.'

With his hand, he guided his cock into her, thrusting in slowly but mercilessly until the entire length was sheathed in her pussy. She barely noticed. She held her hands in front of her wide eyes, her mind recoiling in disbelief.

'You push me, I push back,' Alexander growled as he started to rape her. 'You fight me, you lose.'

'Motherfucker!' she screamed, her eyes blazing with hatred. 'MOTHERFUCKER!'

He was wearing a padded glove on his left hand, and slammed it down over her mouth, silencing her even as he continued his slow, deep thrusts into her.

'Shut the fuck up, bitch,' he snarled. 'Or do you want to lose your tongue too?'

She stared up at him in utter horror, shocked tears filling her eyes, and he nodded slowly and deliberately.

'You belong to me and me alone. All of you-your cunt, your mouth, your ass...'

Alexander forced himself to keep his movements slow, even though the terror in her eyes and the tears rolling down her cheeks were making his cock throb with lust.

'Your hands, your feet...your mind and soul...are all my property.'

'And if you're too fucking stupid to figure that out...'

He let go of her mouth and grabbed her wrists firmly, holding her bandaged hands inches from her face.

'...then I will drive the point home!'

He pulled her hands apart and stared into her shocked eyes.

'You understand now, slave girl?' he snarled.

Phyllis couldn't answer. It was too much. Her mind was overloaded.

He pulled back until the tip of his cock was just barely inside her, and held still.

'Fuck me,' he commanded.

She was too numb to respond in any way. He grabbed her by the chin, his eyes cold as ice.

'Fuck me, slave girl,' he repeated firmly. 'You do not want to just lay there like you're...paralyzed...'

The smirk returned as he trailed off, letting that last word hang between them. It took a moment for the threat to sink in, but when it did fresh terror gripped Phyllis' heart. With a moan of anguish, she began to buck her hips, shoving her pussy up and down his cock.

'That's better, slut.'

She wasn't very wet, and the friction was painful, but she forced herself to keep moving, too stunned and afraid to do anything else.

'This is how it works, cunt. I command, you obey. Very simple.'

He savored her fear and pain as he forced her to rape herself.

'Harder, slut!' he snarled. 'That's your Master's cock! Giving it pleasure is your only purpose!'

With a sob, she forced herself to shove up onto him faster and faster, wanting only to get it over with so her brain could shut down.

'Shake your fucking ass!' he growled, and she started to mindlessly wiggle her hips as she pumped up and down his dick.

Just when she thought she could take no more, on the verge of a hysterical breakdown, he suddenly pulled out. Stepping his right foot over her leg, he started to stroke himself, pointing his cock at her face.

'You're nothing but a cum dump. Say it!'

Phyllis whimpered miserably, fresh tears flowing. 'I-I'm a cum dump,' she managed to whisper.

With his gloved hand, he slapped her right breast. 'You're NOTHING but a cum dump-now fucking say it!'

'I'm...I'm nuh-nothing but a cum dump,' she sobbed.

'Open your fucking mouth, bitch,' he commanded, and unthinkingly she parted her lips as he started to spurt his cum down onto her. It splashed into her open mouth and onto her face, mixing with her tears.

The last of his load dribbled onto her breasts, and he grabbed a handful of her hair, bringing her sperm-covered face close to his.

'You ever gonna fucking disobey your Master again, slave bitch?' he demanded.

She tried to shake her head, but his grip was too tight.

'Answer me!' he practically shouted.

'No Master,' she whimpered, and he let her go.

He picked up his pants and started towards the door.

'This world is ruled by the ruthless,' he said without turning around, 'and I'm the most ruthless sonofabitch you'll ever meet.'

A few minutes later, Kitten returned. She cleaned Dove's face, removed the cuffs and chains from the bed, and gave her an injection-antibiotics and a painkiller.

Out in the hallway, Kitten locked the door and wiped tears from her eyes. 'That poor girl,' she thought. 'She's almost catatonic.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Morning, Dove,' Trouble said softly as she slipped into the room. Phyllis looked up sluggishly, just in time to catch a glimpse of Barry as he closed the door.

We need to...change your bandages...and check to make sure there's no infection,' Trouble said in a small voice.

Phyllis swallowed hard and looked away as the blond girl set a small bag on the end of the bed. She pulled out a roll of gauze, then a roll of tape.

'Can you sit up?' Trouble asked mildly.

Phyllis struggled upright, her legs hanging off the edge of the narrow bed.

'You don't need to look if you don't want to,' Trouble said as she started to unwrap Phyllis' right hand.

Phyllis' eyes were empty, her expression blank, but she didn't turn away. She had to see.

'Dear god,' she whispered when Trouble pulled away the last of the bandages. Her face twisted in anguish, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying.

'You've cried enough,' Phyllis thought. 'No more.'

Gently, carefully, Trouble held up Phyllis' hand and examined the spot where her middle finger had been.

'No sign of infection,' she murmured, more to herself than to Phyllis. She dabbed a little antibiotic ointment on the wound, then wrapped the girl's hand back up.

She repeated the process on Phyllis' other hand.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry,' Trouble said as she put the old bandages into a bag.

Phyllis sighed deeply.

'Still think he's a good guy? Still think he's a savior?' she asked, turning the last word into a curse.

'I...I...' the girl stammered, her eyes filled with confusion.

'If you're not sure, maybe you should ask Rogue what she thinks,' Phyllis sneered.

Trouble grabbed her supplies and fled, but not before Phyllis heard her start to cry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'WHY?' Trouble wailed, her tears soaking Kitten's shoulder.

'Why did he do something so horrible? HOW could he do something like that?' she sobbed miserably.

Kitten didn't answer. She just held the tiny girl and let her cry.

She lifted her head to look at Kitten. 'I loved him. I luh-loved him...a-and then this,' and the pain in her voice nearly broke Kitten's heart.

Trouble let her head fall back onto Kitten's shoulder, and more tears flowed.

'How can I serve him after this?' she whimpered.

Kitten stroked the girl's blond hair tenderly. 'Do you know what they tell soldiers to do when they're scared?'

Trouble looked up, her eyes red and puffy. 'I'm not scared,' she said softly. 'I'm angry. And I hate it. You're not supposed to be angry at Master.'

'I know, angel,' Kitten answered, at a loss of what to say.

'Dove didn't deserve that. Rogue didn't deserve it. No one deserves that,' she said firmly.

She leaned back against Kitten and sniffled. 'What do they tell soldiers?'

Kitten smiled sadly.

'Fall back on your training,' she said softly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ALEXANDER gave her one more day in the hospital bed, then sent her back to her old cell-with a couple changes.

'You've lost the right to wear clothes,' he said with a smirk as he tucked her tiny wrap into his jacket pocket. 'And these are not clothes.'

He locked a pair of padded cuffs around her ankles, connected by a short chain. Wearing them, she could walk almost normally, but there was no way she could move quickly.

'You've proven you can't be trusted. So from now on, you'll always be restrained.'

Phyllis hung her head, but he tilted her chin up, gazing into her eyes.

'What does a slave say when Master gives her something?'

Helplessly, hating him, hating herself, hating everything, she whimpered thank you, but it wasn't good enough for him. He didn't nod and leave until he had forced her to thank him for her beautiful new ankle cuffs.

Phyllis curled up on her cot and wished she would die.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'He's losing it,' Phyllis said to Kitten as the girl helped her bathe. 'He's gone from cruel to psychotic. Our lives are in danger.'

'I know,' Kitten said sadly. Her own backside bore angry red stripes, her punishment for the awful crime of discretely belching during dinner the night before.

'We have to get out of here. No more excuses. We have to escape.'

'It's not possible,' Kitten replied. 'Even if we can eliminate Master *and* Barry, there's too many locked doors between here and freedom.'

Phyllis touched Kitten's face with her index finger. Her hands were healing, and the bandages no longer covered her fingertips.

'*We* don't have to get out,' she said. 'I have a plan.'

Kitten looked at her skeptically. 'What plan?'

The corner of Phyllis' mouth turned up. 'Can you give me an hour?'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kitten looked up from her knees. 'Master, may I speak?' she asked quietly.

'What is it, pet?'

'Have you noticed how much more unhappy Barry seems lately?'

Alexander raised an eyebrow. 'You can tell?'

Kitten looked at him and nodded. 'Yes Master. And you know I would never tell you how to run your household-but it occurs to me that a happy employee is a more loyal employee.'

Alexander chuckled and tousled the girl's hair. 'And just what do you suggest, pet?'

She nuzzled his hand gently. 'If you wish, Master, perhaps the next time you take Trouble to the playroom, this girl could try to...improve Barry's mood?'

She lowered her eyes and blushed softly as he stroked his chin.

'Actually, that's not a bad idea. The man does work very hard for me. Perhaps he deserves a reward.'

He tipped her chin up and brushed his middle finger across the tip of her nose. 'And you, my pet, would be a very sweet reward.'

Kitten looked up at her Master and beamed, hoping he couldn't hear how hard her heart was pounding.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

IT WAS Alexander's newest tactic to humiliate her and break her spirit that gave Phyllis the final piece of her plan. 

Almost every afternoon, he would chain her by an ankle in one of the bathrooms. With a toothbrush and a little tin of baking soda, she was supposed to make the toilet sparkle.

In deference to her injured hands, he did at least give her a pair of heavy rubber gloves to wear.

The game was pure bullshit. He'd leave her for a couple hours, come in to 'inspect' her work, give her a slap across the face and tell she didn't do a good enough job, forcing her to start over.

She'd gotten Kitten to steal a paper clip from his office, and practiced and practiced until she could pick the very simple lock on the cuffs.

Today, she was in the bathroom closest to his office. She pretended to do her gross job while she listened intently.

She heard footsteps in the hallway outside, and a few minutes later, more footsteps, this time going in the other direction, and Kitten's voice saying 'we're going to have a wonderful time'-the signal that the coast was as clear as her and Trouble could make it.

Heart thudding in her chest, Phyllis wiggled the bent paper clip in the lock until it clicked open. She forced herself to count slowly to one hundred, her ear pressed against the door.

Silence. She slipped out and tip-toed down the hall to Alexander's office.

The door wasn't even closed, let alone locked, and she breathed a silent thank-you to Trouble and her talents of seduction. The little blond girl knew what to say and do to make Alexander forget everything but his desire and need to fuck her.

She'd been in this office enough times to recognize his main laptop, sitting silent and closed on the big desk. She sat down on the carpet, hiding behind the desk just in case someone peeked in, and booted it up.

In a few moments, the screen lit up and asked for a password. Phyllis stared at it in dismay.

'Shit,' she thought. 'Who the hell leaves their personal computer set up so they have to enter the password every goddamn time?'

She thought feverishly of everything Alexander had said to her, trying to remember anything that might give her a clue to his password, and started randomly typing in whatever popped into her head.

KittensMaster

DovesMaster

TroublesMaster

RussianStud

WhipRogue

BarrysBoss

No luck. None of them worked.

She looked on the desk and carefully in the drawers, but there was no convenient Post-It note labeled 'password.'

She sat back down, scrubbing her face with her hands, her heart sinking into her stomach.

Dammit! Ten minutes used up already!

Angrily, her index fingers pounding the keys, she typed in Dickless and jabbed the enter key...

and watched in amazement as the computer came to life.

'What an asshole,' she mumbled, shaking her head.

She looked at the date and gritted her teeth in rage. The bastard had stolen ten months of her life already.

'Fuck him,' her mind snarled. 'He's going down.

First, Google to find out where she was and get the email addresses she needed.

The locator came up, and her jaw dropped. She was even more surprised than when that stupid password had worked.

'No. 

Fucking

Way!'

She blinked and shook her head. It didn't change.

'Gary?'

'You gotta be kidding me. I'm in Gary fucking Indiana?'

'Stop wasting time, Philly,' she silently admonished herself. She got five of the addresses she wanted, then looked at the clock.

Twenty-five minutes. They would have to be enough.

She went to Yahoo to get her old email account. It had been so long since she'd logged on it was inactive, and she had to answer a challenge question.

She copied the addresses and added three of her old friends from her address book, her hands starting to shake with excitement.

Gnawing on her tongue in concentration, she began digging through the files.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

BARRY rolled off the brunette slave girl and collapsed on his back, his powerful chest heaving. Kitten slid into the crook of his arm and lay her head across his torso.

'Mmmm that was good,' she purred.

'Yes it was,' the big man rumbled. He gave her hair a stroke, and started to sit up.

'I enjoyed that, Kitten,' he said quietly. She turned her head to look at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

'Bet I can get you up again,' she giggled, and gave his flat stomach a slow, wet kiss.

'Now, we can't waste the whole day.'

The girl laughed softly, her head moving lower. 'Oh poo,' she breathed. 'We don't know when we'll get to do this again-so I'm gonna drain you dry!'

'Really, girl, that's...' he started to say, then sucked in a breath as she took his soft penis into her mouth.

Kitten smiled to herself as she felt him twitch against her tongue. He lay back down, submitting to her oral ministrations.

'Come on, Phyllis,' she silently prayed as she sucked him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phyllis found three files with spreadsheets, two with lists of names and phone numbers, and a couple in what looked like Russian that looked suspicious. She attached them all to her message.

45 minutes. Gotta hurry girl!

It was hard, typing without middle fingers, but she quickly summarized the story of what had happened to her since that awful night almost a year ago, and threw in every bit of useful information she could think of that might help them find her.

At last, she hit SEND, and it was out of her hands. She'd done everything she could.

She did everything she could remember to do to cover her tracks and erase any evidence that someone had used his laptop. Then, she shut it down, put it back on the desk, and dashed on silent, bare feet back to the bathroom.

She had just closed the cuff around her ankle when she heard noises in the hall.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In a red Kia just outside of Chicago, a cell phone bleated a few bars of Taylor Swift.

The dark haired woman behind the wheel looked at it, but-personal safety policy-she didn't answer.

She listened to the leave-a-message spiel, and then one of her best friends was practically yelling.

'Call me right away. I got an email from Phyllis!'

Her eyes wide, the woman jerked her car to the shoulder, getting honked at in the process, and hurriedly grabbed her phone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Post-Tribune, Michael Schumaker's desk.'

'Mike, it's Jack. Did you get an email from a woman named Phyllis? About Russian mobsters and white slavers?'

'I was just reading it now.'

'Do us a favor. Don't do anything with it yet. Turns out that's the name of a girl who vanished ten months ago in Chicago. Let us look into it ok? Don't put her in jeopardy.'

'All right, I'll sit it on for now. But I wanna know when you move.'

'Trust me, buddy. You can have a front row seat.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took about twenty hours to get the Russian documents translated, and another four to get the warrants and assemble the assault team.

They decided on a night raid. At two o'clock in the morning, police used a battering ram to smash through the front door of Alexander's mansion. A dozen officers in full riot gear spread through the house.




Dove's Tale Ch. 08



They knew he was there-he'd been under surveillance since they pinpointed his location.

Sophisticated infrared and heat-sensing equipment had shown exactly where the five people inside were.

But to find the girls, all they had to do was follow the cheers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

EPILOGUE

The only question when it came to Alexander was whether to try him in the US, or extradite him to Russia. The files Phyllis had sent were just the tip of the iceberg. There was enough on his laptop-money laundering, racketeering, bribing officials, and much much more-to put him away for a dozen lifetimes.

Of course he posted bail, and of course he tried to flee, but they were watching him like a hawk. The instant he got too far away, he was surrounded, handcuffed, and returned to jail.

Now he was a flight risk. No bail allowed.

Staring at hundreds of charges and life in prison, he hung himself in his cell with his own trousers.

A guard saw him in the midst of his preparations. The man-a husband with two teenage daughters-turned his back and walked away.

The FBI and CIA shared the information on Alexander's computer with Interpol, MI6, G-7, and numerous governments. A couple of white slavery rings were broken up, some arrests were made, and a few dozen girls and women were freed-admittedly a drop in the bucket, but small victories are still victories.

Barry cooperated fully with authorities. It turned out the primary reason he was working for Alexander was that he had a sister in Russia, a doctor who had worked for a while with a rebel group. Alexander demanded his loyalty in return for not giving his sister to the Russian government.

He told everything he knew, which admittedly wasn't much, and the girls all agreed he had never been unnecessarily cruel, so he was copped a plea and spent seventeen months in prison.

The US State Department helped his sister immigrate to the US, and when he got out of prison they moved to West Virginia, where she found work at a clinic. He is currently working for a construction company.

The Gary, Indiana reporter who received a copy of Phyllis' email helped the three women write a book. It sold extremely well, helped by Phyllis' and (especially) Kitten's performances on the talk show circuit.

Kitten was a revelation in an interview setting. Having been a slave all her life, she was unfailingly polite, respectful, and soft spoken. She was incapable of lying or embellishing, and there was no guile in her at all.

She didn't try to make herself look good, or wrap things up in a tidy narrative. There was no self-pity or bitterness. She just told what happened.

She left Oprah and Ellen sobbing. She had the Today cast wiping their eyes. Almost every time she spoke, the audience rose as one at the end, applauding and cheering even as the tears rolled down their cheeks.

Trouble was the least interested in being a celebrity. She took back her old name, cut and dyed her hair, and moved to the West Coast, reveling in her anonymity.

There was always one huge shadow. Their book was dedicated 'To Rogue,' but they never found her. Alexander had a huge file on Phyllis, and folders of information on Trouble (now Karen), and Kitten-but absolutely nothing on Rogue.

The girls knew her real name was Pam, and they did everything they could-hiring artists to draw her from their description and flooding the Internet with appeals for help-but none of the hundreds of pictures people sent them were her.

Barry swore she was still alive, battered yes but awake, when he last saw her. He had taken her to a private doctor known for his discretion, to have her injuries treated before they shipped her off.

He agreed that Alexander had said she would be sent to Thailand, but couldn't say for sure-and the doctor in question had vanished the same day news of the raid on Alexander's mansion hit the news.

Phyllis' mutilated hands became an international symbol of the fight against the exploitation of women. Sometimes holding a dove, sometimes in handcuffs, the picture was everywhere.

'If hearing my story helps even a few girls, it was worth it,' she often said, and maybe it did. One more tiny step in the fight.

Phyllis and Kitten got apartments in the same building. Kitten often broke the tension and horror of the story of their captivity by telling funny stories about how little she knew of living in 'the real world,' and she relied on Phyllis to answer questions and be her guide.

One day, she tapped on Phyllis' door, a thick envelope in her hands.

'This is a big day for me,' she said, her voice thick with emotion. 'I've never had a name.'

She ripped open the envelope and pulled out an official-looking document. She stared for a long time, then handed it to Phyllis, with tears in her eyes.

'I hope it's ok,' she said.

Phyllis read the birth certificate.

Katherine Phyllis Free it said.

She looked at the woman who was once a slave named Kitten, her own eyes misting.

'Thank you.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

EPILOGUE TWO

Katherine stood and fidgeted, her eyes moving from the arrival/departure board to the doorway and back, again and again.

At last, the door opened and the passengers flowed into the terminal. She held up the cardboard sign that read 'Melissa' with trembling hands.

Of course she recognized the woman. She'd seen her picture. She'd stared at it for hours and hours.

The woman-tall, slim, brown-haired and still attractive on the edge of fifty, stopped a few feet away.

'I won't cry, I won't cry,' Katherine thought. She could see the woman's face was already wet with tears.

Melissa went to Phyllis first, and gave her a short, hard hug.

'Thank you so much. For everything.'

Phyllis smiled, her own eyes starting to leak. She gave the woman a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

'Go say hello,' she whispered.

Melissa and Katherine embraced, sharing shameless, joyous tears. At last, the older woman leaned back.

'I'm so proud of you, Katherine,' she said tenderly, and the love in her words and her eyes slipped into Katherine's heart. They found the last vestiges of the slave once known as Kitten, among other names, and gently crushed them, leaving behind only a free woman.

'I'm so glad to meet you,' Katherine said, her voice husky with emotion, and before she broke down completely she managed to say the word she'd been dreaming of saying her entire life.

'Mom.'