Six Masters Island - De Lucia's Slaves (5 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mistress,” Fallon rasped out.

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

“Nipples and clit, of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER III

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Master,” the quivering voices replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Andrea… the collars.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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