Shameful Reckonings (17 page)

“Stop,” Paul ordered. Sigrid was hanging by her arms now. Only her heels were in contact with the floor. She’d gotten more feeling back now, and she wished she hadn’t. She could see well enough to know that Paul was coming towards her and that he was carrying something in his hand.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

“Fuck you,” Sigrid mumbled. She was getting some control of her muscles back, but it came out as: “Fug-oo.” Paul took her nipple between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and
pinched
. Sigrid yelped.

“I said, open your mouth,
bitch
,” Paul snarled, his face suddenly inches from hers.

She felt too weak to fight. She opened her mouth. Paul quickly stuffed some kind of hard rubber bit between her jaws, pushing it deep into her mouth. He buckled it tightly in place. Paul stepped back as if to survey his handiwork and then turned away.

“Keep going,” he ordered. The clicking resumed. The sheer slowness of it all was a form of torture. Sigrid managed to get her feet under her. It was a relief to find that her legs could actually take some of her weight. Her vision was almost back to normal. She tried to look around as best she could.

She was in a room… no, a chamber. It was round, maybe twenty feet across. The ceiling was domed, and very high above her head. The floor was paved with dark stone. The walls were of more dark stone. The dome might have been made of cement. It felt somehow as if they were deep underground. She could see only two other men in the chamber with her. Paul was standing against the wall, watching her intently. He had changed into jeans and a long white pullover shirt. The other man was off to her left. He was brown-skinned and well-muscled. He wore only shorts, no shoes, and a black hood that covered his face. He was operating a hand-powered crank that made the clicking noise. A chain ran up from the crank, through a pulley, and up to the top of the dome, where it ran through another pulley. From there it ran back down. Not far above Sigrid’s head, it split into two chains. One ran to each end of the metal bar that her wrists were strapped to. Looking down, she could see that her ankles were strapped to an identical bar. She could just about stand on her own now, but the man kept working the crank. Soon she was standing on her toes, and then she couldn’t reach the floor at all. Her arms and legs were painfully stretched, and it was too cool and damp in the chamber. She shivered.

“That’s enough,” Paul said. The man at the crank locked it in position. Sigrid saw Paul take a cell phone out of his shirt pocket. He held it up. Was he making a call? Then she remembered that some cell phones could take digital pictures and she hastily turned her head away. She heard Paul laugh. He came over to her.

“Too late, bitch,” he said. He held the cell phone up so she could see herself, stretched and suspended, the deep tan of her body broken by the creamy white of her breasts and loins. She looked tired and bedraggled in the picture. Paul snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket. His hands strayed to her breasts. She was still too weak to fight. With the bit in her mouth, it was enough of a struggle to keep from drooling.

“You have a magnificent body,” he said. “All you need now is the proper training.”

Sigrid tried to snarl at him around the gag.

Paul looked around her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” Apparently there was a third man there, standing behind her where she could not see.

“This is your first lesson in discipline,” Paul smiled. “Unfortunately, it must be harsh.”

Sigrid felt a sudden chill that went far beyond the cool dankness of the chamber. Paul patted her hip affectionately before he stepped back and away.

“Do not hold back,” he called out to the man behind her, “but be careful. Do not break that lovely skin.”

“I know my job,” the third man replied.

“Begin,” Paul nodded. An instant later, Sigrid heard a sharp
crack!
There was a terrible, searing pain across her backside. She shrieked, and it echoed through the chamber. Another
crack!
Something struck her painfully hard across the backs of her thighs and she shrieked again. The next blow fell across her calves. The one after that was across the small of her back.

She jerked and struggled and shrieked as the whipping went on. She tried to beg for mercy, but it was impossible to form words with that hard rubber bit wedged between her teeth. The pain had cleared her head of the last effects of the drug. Between strokes she wondered desperately what Paul
wanted
. She had teased him before. She had no doubt that he knew it. She’d thought that his rape of her on his boat had been a form of payback from him. She didn’t like it, but she would have understood it. But now she had no idea where she was, what Paul wanted, or
why
he was doing this to her.

Another lash across her backside, where she was already sore, made her shriek again. She looked at Paul, pleading for mercy from him with her eyes. He only smiled, as if he was perfectly satisfied with the way things were. If she hadn’t been gagged, she could have begged him, promised him anything he wanted, if only he would stop this. But she couldn’t form any recognizable words, and all she got for her effort to do so anyway was a trickle of saliva that dribbled onto her breasts. Another blow slashed across her shoulders. It was followed almost immediately by one across the backs of her thighs again. The pain of her tautly stretched body and abused flesh grew too strong, and she started to pass out. Then her tormentor lashed her up between her spread legs. She bucked and howled up at the domed roof as he whipped her ass again… and again.

The whipping stopped. Sigrid hung limp in her bonds. Her arms were aching badly enough now that they hurt worse than most of the places she’d been struck. She wondered if her ordeal was over. She hoped desperately that it was. She saw Paul approaching. He was still smiling.

“So…” he reached up to fondle her breasts again. “If I let you down now, will you do anything that I want?”

Sigrid nodded wearily.

“Anything at all?” He pinched one coral-pink nipple. Sigrid nodded more vigorously. She tried to say ‘yes, yes’, but it came out as ‘es, es’. She drooled onto her chest.

“Unfortunately, we are not done yet.” Paul shrugged. “I am sure that you are very eager to please me now. It seems a pity not to learn what skills you have, but there will be much time for that later.” He let go of her nipple and moved away. Now for the first time she saw who had been whipping her as he stepped around in front of her. Like the crank operator, he wore shorts and a black hood over his face. He was burly, his skin a pale fish belly white. He seemed to be covered with a thin pelt of coarse, curling black hair. He held a long, wide leather strap in his hand. Sigrid couldn’t see his face because of the hood, but she thought he was smiling as he stood there sizing her up. She shook her head ‘no’ desperately. Then he brought the strap down across her thighs and she screamed at the sudden pain. The next blow was across her belly. It was hard enough to knock the wind out of her. The third was across her breasts, and she had no breath to scream.

It went on. He moved to flog her right side, and then moved to give her left side the same treatment. Sigrid shrieked and squealed and struggled wildly and none of it did her any good. It hurt worse when he struck at only one of her legs, because the strap would curl around it. When that happened the end of the strap stung like white fire when it hit. The last thing she remembered was seeing him take aim at one of her arms.

The next thing she knew someone had doused her unconscious body with icy cold water. She came to spluttering and choking and gasping. Her body was nothing but one terrible ache and she wished she was still unconscious. Then the man brought the strap up between her legs again. It was as if a flashbulb had gone off in her head, blotting out all sights and sounds and feelings for a long, terrible moment. Then the pain came rushing in like a consuming fire. She barely noticed when he whipped her across her breasts again.

***

All she could hear was somebody whimpering. It took her a moment to realize that it was her. The side of her face was pressed against something cold and hard. There was hardly any feeling in her hands, but they seemed to be resting on that same cold, hard surface, as were her breasts, knees and lower legs. She seemed to be bent over something. Whatever it was, it was not as cold or as hard. Her pain-wracked brain dimly realized that her ass was up in the air and her legs were spread. She felt big hands gripping her hips. A moment later, she heard a deep male grunt and felt a cock being forced into her sore, throbbing pussy. She tried to move, but then other hands gripped her ankles and wrists, holding her still. Somebody pulled a bag over her head so that she couldn’t see. Then she heard Paul’s voice calling out.

“All right, men, that long-legged blonde bitch has her ass up and her legs apart. She’s waiting for you!”

The man raping her grunted, low and deep, with each thrust he made. Sigrid felt tears running down her nose. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt! She had no strength left to scream or to fight. All she could do was try to endure as they used her… and used her.

***

The pain would not let her rest. It would not let her slip back into unconsciousness. She was distantly aware that she was lying on her back and no one was fucking her at the moment. She tried to move and couldn’t. All her effort did was add more pain to what she already felt. She groaned weakly.

“She doesn’t look so good now,” a male voice commented from nearby.

“They never do after that,” another male voice responded. “C’mon, let’s get her to the bath. They can take care of her there.”

“Nice tan lines,” the first voice went on. “She must’ve worked pretty hard on that.”

“With a body like that, who cares?” the second voice said. “She’s built for sex.”

“Yeah, well, she’ll be getting plenty of it here.” Sigrid felt fingers tracing out her lips. “Wonder how good she is at sucking.”

“We’ll find out later. C’mon, help me get her onto the stretcher.”

Hands gripped her wrists and ankles and lifted her off of the floor. A moment later she was put back down on something coarse.

“Gorgeous tits,” one of the voices said. Sigrid felt hands mauling them. “Hey, they’re real!”

“Good thing for her. The boss don’t like anything plastic. C’mon, let’s get moving.”

She felt herself being lifted again, and she groaned. Any kind of movement seemed to hurt intolerably. She tried to lie very still as the men carrying her jogged her this way and that. She didn’t know how far they carried her. The pain she was suffering made time crawl by. From time to time she would open her eyes, but all she ever saw was an arched roof of stone overhead with dim electric lights set along it at intervals. It was no warmer in the corridor than it had been in the round chamber. Sigrid tried not to shiver for fear it would add to her pain, but finally her body took over. She began to shiver, and soon she was shuddering violently. She felt suddenly sick to her stomach and in spite of what the movement cost her she twisted over onto her side and tried to curl up in a fetal position. A series of dry heaves wracked her body. The men carrying her never even slowed down.

They passed through a doorway. The air on the other side was warm and dry, the lighting brighter and softer. Sigrid heard female voices now, several of them, all making cries of dismay. The men put the stretcher down on another hard floor. She thought that they left, then, but she was still shivering and dry-heaving too much to care.

“She looks bad,” Sigrid heard a woman’s voice.

“Looks like they had Bogo work her over with the strap,” another woman said. “Poor thing.”

“It looks like she’s going into shock,” yet another voice called out from further away. Whoever it was, she had a British accent. “Get her in the pool. Quick.”

Sigrid felt the stretcher being dragged across the floor.

“Careful!”

“I
am
being careful! How are we going to get her in the water, anyway? She’s a big girl. Ayesha, come help us.”

“Just leave her on the stretcher and drag it into the pool at the shallow end.” The advice came from the further-away voice.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Sigrid felt the stretcher being tilted. Then warm water washed against her feet. She shuddered and moaned. The soles of her feet had been beaten as well.

“Easy… easy…” a woman told her soothingly. “We know, it hurts like Hell, but just try to relax. The water helps.”

“Water…” Sigrid croaked. The soothing warmth was up to her knees and still rising.

“Yes, water… oh, wait… do you mean you’re thirsty?”

“Yesss…” Sigrid replied. Another bout of violent shivers overcame her.

“Ayesha, if you won’t help us move her you could at least get her something to drink.”

“All right, all right.”

The wonderful warm water was lapping at her breasts when Sigrid felt a straw being pressed against her lips. She took it in and sucked greedily at it. Cool water flowed into her mouth. She swallowed it and sucked again.

“Not so fast. Go slow or you’ll throw up.”

Sigrid obeyed, drinking more slowly as the water rose to her neck. She was lying on her back now, tilted at an angle so that her feet were lower than her head. Her violent shivering subsided. Her bruised and battered skin tingled. She took another swallow of water.

“Just relax. You’re okay here. We’ll make sure you don’t drown.”

Sigrid sighed. Those words were the last thing she heard for a while.

Chapter Five

“Who
are
you?” Sigrid asked weakly. She still hurt all over, but not quite as badly now. She had bruises all over her body, but none of them seemed deep. At least she could stand on her own and move now. She was sitting neck-deep in the round pool. The warm water seemed to help soothe her skin.

At the opposite end of the pool sat three other women, all as naked as she was. Sigrid could see that their pubic hair had been shaved. She knew Ayesha by her voice. She was the tall, slim black woman with the short, short hair. Next to her sat a waifish girl with long, pale blonde hair and creamy white skin. The third woman was average height and build. She had an olive complexion and she wore her dark hair in a pageboy bob. “I’m Lara,” she replied. She nodded at the waif. “This is Glory. That’s Ayesha. How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for a long time.”