Someone Elses Daughter (4 page)

“Good girl,” Leo said.

“Thank you, sir,” she mumbled with a giggle on the thick shaft.

Sasha stripped off his clothes and stood naked, watching as Sara sucked his colleague. He climbed onto the bed and stretched out on his back. He then reached to grasp Sara’s right hand and placed it on his cock, tightening his hand around hers.

“Jerk me off for a while, Amerikanski.”

Sara obeyed, without missing a beat as she continued to suck Leo’s shaft. Her hand closed around Sasha’s thick cock, and she felt the silky sheath of skin slide against the hard shaft as she wanked him. A whirlpool of excitement swirled and sucked in a her belly. She had never before pleasured two men at the same time, much less bi-guys. It continued thus for some minutes with only the sound of their breathing and the occasional grunt breaking the silence. Then, just when she thought that Leo was reaching a climax, he withdrew his cock from her mouth and pushed her away. He reached into his pocket and produced a foil-wrapped condom, handing it to Sara.

“Put this on Sasha’s cock,” he ordered, “and then get on top.”

Glad that a condom was being used after her bare back session with Dom, Sara took the sachet and tore it open. Sasha waited. He lay on his back as she somewhat inexpertly rolled the latex over his shaft. She then straddled his hard, trim body and guided his cock into her hungry cunt. She grunted and sank slowly down, closing her eyes for a moment and sighing. Then, recalling the sight of Dom’s squat member in her cunt, Sara paused and looked down curiously at her pussy as it clasped around Sasha’s beautiful cock. Sasha reached up and grasped her breasts, and he squeezed them tightly to pull her shoulders downwards, while at the same time he jerked his hips and fully impaled her.

“Ride me, Americanski whore,” he growled. Panting with lust, Sara laughed and rose up and then slid slowly down on the shaft again. She repeated this, slowly, tentatively, “Faster. Work harder!” he ordered, slapping her tits.

“Yes, sir!”

I’ll give him faster!
Sara furiously bounced up and down on the cock, her bottom thudding down on his belly. Sasha bucked, keeping a tight hold on her breasts, his fingers digging into the soft orbs as if trying to wrench them from her. Sara, utterly lost in the fucking, screeched and groaned. Then she felt a hand on each shoulder and realised that Leo had climbed onto the bed behind her. Even as she fucked Sasha, Leo pushed her forward, until her tits were lying on the hard muscled chest beneath her. She continued to ride the cock in her cunt, not really thinking of what might be happening. Then, though, she was aware that Sasha’s hands were on her buttocks, prizing them apart Leo immediately nuzzled the wet head of his cock into the divide, pushing at her anus, lubricating it with pre-cum. Realising their intent, Sara gave a small squeal of protest. But the forefingers of Sasha’s hands were digging into her anus, pulling and distorting the tight ring of muscle. Each time she rose and thrust down onto his cock, it seemed that his fingers were pulling her arsehole wide open, and Sasha held her thus as Leo’s cock slid up her arse. With a slow groan, she surrendered, feeling herself trapped in a wall of flesh between the two men, and with their cocks impaling her, separated only by a thin membrane inside her. Leo lay on her back, insistently pushing his cock up her arse. Sara gasped and squirmed. She felt her anal canal stretched wide the cock forced its way in, and yet all the time her hips were moving slowly against Sasha’s shaft in her pussy. Sara grunted and gasped like a sow rutted by two boars, overwhelmed by waves after wave of pure sexual energy, the raw, sensuous pain in her arse, and the wild animal heat of her cunt... She was humped and between the press of the two hard youthful male bodies as their cocks pumped up and down, feeling them nuzzle together on either side of the thin wall of flesh. Her body exploded into orgasm. Then Leo pulled back from her anus, and seconds later Sasha’s cock was dragged from her cunt. Even in her tumult of orgasmic ardour, Sara was aware that the two youths were somehow changing position, but keeping her sandwiched between them. Leo’s legs were clasped around her torso from behind, his ankles hooked together. He rolled his body, lifting her until she had to splay crab-like with her legs spread and her feet flat on the bunk for support. At that moment, Sasha thrust his hips forward. Sara braced herself for the renewed assault, but none came. Instead, she heard Leo emit a grunt and his legs clamped hard around her body. She realised that Sasha had plunged his cock into Leo’s anus. Then she was tossed around like a rag doll as the youths rutted together, and Leo used her breasts to haul himself against her and best present his arse to Sasha’s rampant cock. Sara could feel Leo’s hard penis slide against her bottom, and she reached behind to grasp it and push it into her pussy as he grunted under Sasha’s hard fucking. Within a couple of minutes, both youths yelled simultaneously, and she could feel Leo’s shaft pulsing cum inside her.

Then all three of them slumped onto the bunk. They lay there panting, thoroughly rutted and utterly spent. It was some time before any of them moved. Then, before the two youths left Sara, they cuffed and chained her wrists again. The lights soon extinguished and darkness enclosed her like a womb rather than a tomb.

Sara drifted off into an exhausted slumber. She was unsure how long she slept. The person who came to awaken her was a young woman, blonde, slim and muscled, dressed in figure-hugging black lycra.

For a moment, Sara thought she would have to lick pussy, and her heart skipped a beat. However, the woman entered and tossed a couple of black garments onto the bed, and then unfastened the handcuffs and tossed them aside, leaving them attached to the chain dangling from the eyebolt in the ceiling.

“Bra and pants... put them on.”

Surprised, Sara reached for the black sports bra and pulled it over her head. She was familiar with such garments, of course, but this one seemed to have some extra wiring where her nipples nestled, although it seemed comfortable enough. The lycra running shorts were also wired, with a metal foil gusset strip. Glad of the clothing, Sara pulled the figure-hugging shorts over her hips. The woman nodded, and then led Sara from the small cell. The basement was even bigger than Sara had realised. A dozen people were working there, sitting at individual computer work stations within partitioned corrals. They were mainly men, although she could see at least four more women there, all of them young and attractive, one of whom wore only a black leather harness that fully displayed her otherwise naked torso. A trainer was putting her through an exacting routine of bondage positions. True to Sasha’s words, it was evident that Sara wasn’t the only decorative piece Borzov kept there.

The woman took Sara to the far corner, where a small gymnasium with various pieces of equipment had been set up amidst the concrete pillars.

“Get on there.”

The woman pointed to a treadmill. It was a robust commercial model, made for hard running, with sturdy side rails and a stout upright at the front with a hi-tech electronic console.. Sara stepped onto the platform between the rails, and she meekly allowed the woman to place separate cuffs on her wrists; and short lengths of chain secured her to the side rails of the treadmill. Another bar was fixed behind Sara, engaged across both of the side rails, effectively penning her in, and she leaned her butt against this rear bar as the woman connected two electric wires, one to Sara’s bra and the other to her running shorts. Sara watched, bemused, as the woman reached to flick a switch on the upright, but then she let out a shriek as searing pains repeatedly shot through her breasts and pussy. She found herself dancing in anguish on the platform of the treadmill, and the shocks only stopped when she moved away from the rear metal bar. Sara gasped, but the woman merely smiled and reached to activate the conveyor belt. Sara was carried back to the rear bar, and another series of electric shocks fired through her most tender flesh. She immediately realised that she had to somehow keep from touching the steel bar fixed behind her, and the only way to do that was to keep pace with the speed of the treadmill. This wasn’t too difficult, for the belt was only moving at a reasonable walking pace, and she quickly adapted to the required rhythm. However, almost imperceptibly, the speed increased, until she had to take long, rapid strides. After a couple of minutes, Sara found herself trotting to keep pace, and more than once her bottom touched the bar to send the sharp electric shocks screeching through her tits and pussy. Worse still, the power of the current seemed to increase each successive time. She was only vaguely aware that the woman had walked away, leaving her to pound the treadmill and desperately try to keep away from the rear bar. Soon she was sprinting and blowing hard but then the belt slowed for a while, back down to a trot. It was evident that the machine was pre-programmed to give an arduous interval training workout.

VI

The first time that Sara became fully aware of the size of Viktor Borzov’s ‘family’ was about a month after she had arrived at the oligarch’s Moscow HQ. Sasha supervised her preparation but he was unusually quick and perfunctory about it. Besides her sapphire choker, he merely provided a pair of shoes and instructed her to apply make-up and tend to her hair. She was also made her powder her body and apply rouge to her nipples and the lips of her sex. Sara was then left to sit with her hands on top of her head and legs splayed widely. She knew better than to change position, even in the pitch blackness. As Sara had learned to her cost, the cameras had infra-red and someone was always likely to be monitoring her, even in the dark. So she sat alone with her thoughts, meek and submissive.

After that first night with the creepy Dom, life had fallen into something of a pattern for Sara as one of Borzov’s discreet harem of willing, or nearly willing young beauties. As his newest acquisition she received rather more of the Boss’s time than the others, often being chosen to dine with him alone. He liked to hold a cultured conversation with her, but this seemed more and more strange to Sara when she was clad in a bizarre bondage outfit, panting to be fucked. Still, the fabulously wealthy oligarch seemed to enjoy teaching her the game.

Her life as a demure Ivy League college graduate seemed a long time ago but despite the strict and often painful incarceration (or perhaps because of it), she was enjoying her erotic adventure. And, of course, she wasn’t the only Borzov bondage bitch. She had attended several small soirees in the Boss’s penthouse suite, often with other girls who were equally subjected to the ‘fun’. And she had seen various young women being led out for exercise. But she had never got to know any of the other young women, and there was little chance of conversation, either at the parties or at exercise.

The guests she entertained were usually well-known and sometimes glamorous, and at other times they were downright sinister but, without fail, these little parties always ended up with Sara and any other girl present getting heavily dominated and thoroughly fucked. Often, guests would bring their own sluts too, and Sara was never sure which girl belonged to Borzov and which didn’t, so it was hard for her to assess the size of the oligarch’s stable of bitches maintained. After the parties, Sara was always returned to the darkness of her metal box in the basement. Plenty of others came for her oral services, and Georgy, Leo and Sasha often came to fuck her too, but she had no social intercourse with the other girls. This night, though, proved to be somewhat different.

Sara’s arms were beginning to ache when Leo came for her, an hour or more after Sasha had left. Leo he ordered her from the small, claustrophobic room and out into the basement, her hands still atop her head. To her surprise a dozen or more naked young women were already assembled there with five trainers, and Sasha was leading yet another woman through the forest of concrete pillars towards them. All of the bitches had their hands on their heads and, although they were silent, there seemed to be an almost palpable frisson of excitement amongst them.
So these are Bo
r
zov’s bitches, ready to party!
Yay!
Sara felt a familiar tingle of warm anticipation in her belly.

The chill in the open basement after her warm cell prickled at her skin and made her painted nipples even more prominent. She glanced at the other nude girls. Their bodies had been powdered and painted too. She suppressed a gasp as she recognised the beautiful woman with long, wavy, shoulder-length, midnight hair whom Sasha had led across the basement. She was a famous TV news anchor in the USA, where she was probably instantly recognisable to most of the population. Lucy Letwell was slightly older than the others with a rather thicker waist, and her natural breasts were perhaps on the small side, but she was very beautiful with a well-rounded bottom. Sara raised her eyebrows with interest.
So some of Borzov’s bitch
e
s are allowed to come and go, and what could be better for a career than the powerful patronage of an oligarch.
Now though, Lucy stood naked with her fingers laced atop her head like everyone else. There was evidently a price to pay for such patronage. Still more naked women arrived to join the group. Sara counted eighteen, including herself. None of them spoke.

The elevator door hissed and Georgy Nikitin walked out into the basement. He glanced at the women and then at Sasha. “They are all here?”

“Maddy missed her flight because she’s filming.”

Georgy’s face creased in a frown. “The Boss won’t like that. She’ll get her ass whipped, for sure. Borzov expects his bitches to come when he snaps his fingers. Okay, get their asses up there. The guests are already gathering.”

There were too many of them to fit in the elevator car at the same time, so the women were split into two groups. Sara was in the second lot, supervised by Leo, and she waited with them for the lift to return.
Can’t we lower our hands? My arms are killing me.
Perhaps the other girls felt the same way, but nobody asked, and like Sara they kept their fingers laced together on top of their heads. Furthermore, they remained like that when the lift returned and on the ride up to the penthouse.

As the door slide aside, Sara and some of the others gasped. The entire top floor had been converted into a luxurious banqueting suite. She had never seen it looking so opulent. Tables were laid out with snowy-white cloths, silver chargers, sparkling glasses and gleaming cutlery. For decoration, marble statues, more pornographic than erotic, had been installed throughout the room, and there was a larger number of empty rectangular white marble plinths, like sarcophagi, each four feet high and topped with padding covered in sumptuous red velvet that matched the faux antique dining chairs. The rectangular roof support pillars had been concealed inside marble columns. The plinths, statues, and pillars were festooned with black chains. Clearly, neither imagination nor expense had been spared.

Sara was amazed by the number of people who were there and there was a multilingual babble of light conversa
versa
tion. Only a few people spared a glance to the bevy of naked women who were ushered a few paces into the room under discipline. This was hardly surprising, for there were slaves to be seen everywhere, some nude except for chains and collars and slicks of oil, a few were wearing leather or rope harnesses, and others wore all manner of exotic erotic costumes.

The slaves’ owners were rather less exotic. Most of the men wore tuxedos of one kind or another, but there were a few Arabs in the room wearing flowing white robes. Across the floor, Dom, the European politician, stood sipping champagne and chatting animatedly to an aging royal. A triple-ended chain rested lightly in the fingers of Dom’s hand, two ends leading to collars on the necks of two black girls who both wore leopard skin loin cloths and gold bangles on their wrists, and gold rings on their long, protuberant nipples. Sara recognised the girl Zanzibar, but the other black girl was virtually identical, except for a frizz of woolly hair. The third length of chain led to the diamond-studded collar of a sleek Asian leopard cat which sat quietly at Dominique’s feet along with the black twins.

Waiters glided through the throng, dispensing champagne and fine wines. Three Arabs stood chatting together, their naked chattels behind them - two women and a young male with a diamond ring through his foreskin - kneeling with ramrod straight backs, knees widely spaced, chins raised, looking steadfastly ahead. Every nation seemed to be represented. There were several black men, most of them suave and sophisticated, but a few who were younger and more street hip, dressed like pimps, and a couple of them in tribal gear. A dark-skinned Asian man in a Nehru jacket was quietly talking to an autocratic and assured woman white woman - obviously a dominatrix. There were other women too, some young, others more matronly, but all displaying effortless authority. They mingled with easy aplomb, trailing their own playthings behind them. Until then, Sara hadn’t realised that so many of the world’s great and mighty played the same game as Borzov. There must have been a hundred or more of them, and God knows how many slaves.

Viktor Borzov was by the elevator doors on the other side of the room, welcoming his guests as they arrived. He was unattended by slaves, but Georgy Nikitin was alert nearby, and a group of vanilla aides stood ready to usher the incoming guests into the room.

“This way,” Leo said, leading the group of naked women through the throng of guests in a meandering line, weaving in and out of chatting groups. Sara gave a start when a hand unexpectedly pinched the inside of her thigh from behind, brushing the peach of her sex. She turned to see a handsome man of her own age smiling at her. He looked vaguely familiar, but she had only time to give him a weak smile before the following girl pushed her breasts in her back, urging her forward. Sasha was waiting with the other gaggle of bitches in the centre of the room.

“What’s the plan?” Leo asked Sasha.

“How do I know?”

It seemed that neither of the youths knew what to do with them, so the Bitches were left to stand with hands atop their heads while enquiries were made. Sara stood directly behind Lucy Letwell, looking down curiously at her ample apple-like arse. She was quite certain that many people had recognised Lucy because she had seen their glances as they were led across the room, but the woman remained calm and detached, a statuesque nude, hands atop her head, staring glassily into the near distance with chin held high, as if abstracting herself from her surroundings, or perhaps from her identity as ‘the lovely Lucy Letwell’. Somehow, it made Sara feel more anonymous and her own nudity seemed less relevant. Yet she was aware of people appraising the group, casting sideways glances at the naked bitches, and more than once she smiled artfully before averting her eyes as she found herself candidly appraised.
It’s delicious
. What a hoot.

When Sasha returned, he was accompanied by a somewhat breathless, bespectacled woman who wore a bizarre fluffy outfit of red and black feathers, like an overgrown and miscoloured Easter chick, and her hair had been died to match. “The set designer,” Sasha told Leo with a shrug.

The woman glanced at the clip-board she carried and then at the women. “So these are Borzov’s bitches?” she said, almost in wonder. “I’m expecting nineteen...”

“We’re one short. She’s late.”

“Oh my God!” The woman clasped a hand theatrically to her forehead, as if disaster had struck. “There will be an empty plinth.”

“Shit happens,” Sasha said, winking at Leo.

“Well, it can’t be helped. Follow me.”

The bizarrely-dressed woman led the line to a nearby statue, situated almost in the centre of the room. It towered above them: a large statue of a hideously grinning satyr, half-man and half-goat, with a hugely erect phallus and an obscenely protruding pointed tongue; one of its arms was bent at chest height with the palm of its hand upraised, while the other hand was cupped about a foot away from its body.

“Voila! The centre-piece,” the woman said, showing the clip-board to Leo. “There’s lubricant up there somewhere.”

Leo glanced at the board and nodded, and he then pushed Lucy Letwell forward. The proud woman walked without resistance. Sasha stood beside the plinth, slightly stooped, with his hands cupped. Sara watched, fascinated, as Lucy lifted her knee and used Sasha’s cupped hands to climb onto the plinth beside the statue. Leo leapt up beside her and reached to take a tube of lubricant and squeeze some onto his hands. Glancing down with an artful look at Sasha, he massaged the length of the stone penis, using both hands. Sara’s smiled as she heard Sasha’s sharp intake of breath. But she Sara inhaled deeply too, feeling the fluttering in her belly. She smelled the aroma of female arousal and she realised uncomfortably that it could well be from her own body. With bated breath, she watched Leo manoeuvre Lucy into position.

Lucy Letwell did not protest or complain as she faced the hideous statue, her hand clinging to its neck for support. She was made to place her thigh on the satyr’s outstretched hand. When Leo lifted her bodily and lowered her upon the thrusting organ, her buttocks lay in the palm of the monster’s other hand. Lucy moaned audibly as the greased cock stretched her sex. Then Leo leapt to the ground, leaving the Lucy helplessly impaled on the monstrous organ, with one leg hoisted at the height of her trembling breasts. Then Lucy grunted, a sound of surprise, Sara thought, and the set designer woman chortled. Sara looked up in awe at the impaled woman, who now had her eyes closed and her lips set in loose, lascivious half-smile. The famous Lucy Letwell made an impressive erotic centre piece, Sara had to admit. The famous bitch was obviously displayed there as a testament to Borzov’s power and status.

“Quickly now,” the set-designer was saying, and they were led to the next statue, some fifteen feet away.

At this next station, a clearly-frightened blonde girl was confronted by another fiendishly grinning satyr with its arms projecting forward. Leo turned the girl and backed her towards the statue, pushing her beneath the outstretched hands, forcing her to bend sharply at the waist and presenting her buttocks to the massively erect stone phallus. When Leo pushed the girl onto the penis and it impaled her cunt, she looked down, her eyes first opened wide and then clenched tightly shut as she was chained in position.

“Next,” the set-designer called urgently, already at the next plinth.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Sara was looking down from a plinth near one side of the room, squirming against a giant phallus that vibrated like an angry wasp inside her. That had surprised her, for she hadn’t realised that the cocks on the statues merely simulated the appearance of stone. As soon as she had been chained in position on the massive dildo, it had started to vibrate, changing speed seemingly at random, and it was already driving her crazy. The stone satyr that she straddled was bent backwards, supporting itself on one arm with the other hand raised to the fore, and she faced away from its fiendish face with her hands on its knees and her breasts hanging beneath her. Leo had snapped a clover clamp onto her left nipple, and the clamp was hooked to a ring embedded in the palm of the statue’s hand. This produced the effect that the satyr was clutching Jade’s left breast. She had never worn a clover clamp before but quickly found that its grip tightened irreversibly on her throbbing nubbin when she pulled against it. So she had to keep her chest still when she used the strength of her arms to push her hips up on the length of the penis as far as she could, reducing the pressure of its wide base. Then, she gave a small squeal and settled back as the organ within her began to vibrate, sending a startling tingle through her loins. The vibrations increased with each movement. She knew that the guests below, when they were seated to eat, would clearly see the cock entering her ripe vagina.