Part 3
The horror of her stay in the prison broke into the depths of her mind. The
flashbacks of something similar having occurred seemed to be as unreal as
her splitting. She realized, the more she thought of what had happened, the
more it seemed real for her, in her early years. There inside that
overcrowded cell full of demoralized and broken women, the past rushed back
to haunt her.
She was conceived and birthed as the result of a brutal rape, and never had
she known what true love was. Her mother cared nothing for her, allowing
the stepfather to abuse her in any way he saw fit. But, as far as she was
concerned, what she did know was real, it was true. She had no other way of
gauging anything else, other than her own experience. She was extremely
intelligent, far above what most "smart" people would ever know, and that
one trait alone kept her surviving from a living hell where she was
brutalized continuously. From even before her preteen years until she
finally escaped the torturous horror at age fifteen, her life was one
unspeakable assault after another, never knowing what each sick day would
bring. She had been treated by several psychotherapists and without
realizing until now what had occurred during those therapy sessions, she'd
been hypnotized to such a degree that her real life experiences were mostly
blocked out and forgotten. She was conditioned to take life in small
sequences, a week, perhaps a month. But to look back and remember, was more
than difficult; it was impossible, thanks to the benefits of skilled
hypnotists. It took a nightmare just like she'd known as a child to wreck
all the years of therapy, and bring her back to the hellacious horror she
knew all too well. Totally overcome as she fell to this bleak, nasty
jail-cell, she cried uncontrollably. More pitiful than this alone, she was
hardly noticed by the others present.
Crumpled into a soiled, broken heap on the ever-cold chipped concrete
floor, she barely looked up to see the door swing open. When she did, her
heart froze, as she looked into the menacing eyes of a hooded brute. His
arms were wrapped with leather cuffs, reaching to his elbows. His chest was
bare, and his pants of black leather ended in shined, black boots. He was
without challenge from the other women in the cell, as he reached down and
lifted her to a standing position, wobbly now from so much time spent in
her reclusive pose.
Slamming the door behind them, again she was ushered down endless hallways,
impossible to remember. When he spoke, she recognized the voice as one of
the two in the heavy police cruiser, glancing again at his eyes to confirm.
He shook her, and without pause now, she lowered her eyes obediently. Just
before a heavy door that seemed to be one that would lead outside, she was
turned around and put roughly up against the wall. A strong hand was dipped
deep into her shorts, unzipping them to allow him to cup her mound. As he
leaned closer into her, enjoying her discomfort, he felt her warm juices
automatically begin to flow. He smiled and continued stroking her with his
fingers, two of them deep inside her, curled to rub her g-spot.
"We know of your background; of your childhood." She cringed with open
mouth and began to slink down the wall. "You were selected months ago by
the Judge, and now he's going to make you one of his own. We are about to
enter the courtyard where you will be ultimately marked with the Judge's
"official seal," and from this day forward you are to be of service to him
in his harem of slaves. There is no choice of your's to make; everything is
decided for you. That's why the jailer had his fun with you, for within an
hour, you will be totally untouched by anyone, other than what the Judge
allows. By the way...an interesting bit of trivia...the Judge purchased you
from your stepfather, instructing him how to raise you...and until now,
you've had no idea how your life unfolded as it has."
A sweeping wave of incredible awareness crashed over her, more intense now
than anything she'd ever known. She realized that what was imprinted in her
from the time she could possibly remember, was for a purpose. This
purpose...to be a slave, bought and paid for long ago. Now it all, for
once...made horrible sense to her, as memory upon memory of sadistic sexual
torture once again became alive. She saw herself, as if she was viewing it
all over again, from being split. The faceless men buying her for a few
dollars or a stuffed animal, the intense sessions of bondage, pictures and
videos being made, the images of her own mother masturbating while
watching, the beatings... many of them on her cunt, the scars...physical
and emotional...left from an overzealous fanatical idiot of what she
thought was her "daddy."
All the terrible reality seemed to explode upon her now, more desperately
real than any imaginations had ever led her to believe. Incredibly, a wave
of orgasmic energy suddenly surged upwards from her troubled loins as she
remembered all of this. Totally complicated images flashed over her, as she
shook upon the shoulders of this masked assailant, clicking her memories
back to times when she was so out of control and so used for others'
pleasures. The brute realized her turmoiled mind, and with desperation,
grabbed his thick shaft from his pants and thrust his bulging cock up into
her, catching the last jolts of energy coursing through her. With only a
few strokes, impaling her into the wall, his bursting load of steamy cum
shot into her, as she almost immediately came again. This time, her body
surrendered to what she'd always been, as far as she knew. With a
negligence from years of protective therapy, once again this gorgeous
fuck-toy responded as the slaveslut she was. Her moans were not of agony
now, but of complete and ultimate pleasure of being used as a toy.
Just as suddenly as she was about to drop to her knees from blissful
weakness, the steel door swung open and a huge glare of bright sunlight
bathed the two. Her captor picked her up roughly now, by the elbow, and
pushed her into the back of a cart, being hitched to a mule. Hands once
again cuffed, she was linked to an O-ring at the front of the cart, as this
huge, disguised man continued to rip her clothes off, using a sharp dagger
for any of the soiled garments that hesitated. Totally naked again, the two
began their medieval journey to a long, broad platform in the midst of
dozens of howling men, on the far side of this huge area surrounded by high
walls. She looked up, blinking against the harsh sunlight and spied a
gallows in the middle with the unmistakable 'X' of a St. Andrews Cross in
front of it. The arm of the gallows extended in front of the cross, and a
long link of shiny, thick chain dangled from the rotating snap above.
Despite the jeering crowd, who pressed against the cart to run rough hands
along her firm legs, she saw at one end of the platform a burning cauldron
with handles of iron pointing into the middle. She recognized the Judge in
white flowing robes just then, as he looked up and held her in his gaze.
Her eyes never left his, as she felt some sense of closure in the awful
wandering years of her youth. She drank him in, knowing that for once, she
understood some of the questions that never were allowed to be asked. And
her eyes were still on him, when she heard his voice reverberate over the
mob. "This one has been chosen by me from the time she was born. I have
waited until now to claim her, and she is surely mine to have from this
moment on, as the ninth hour is about to strike. Until that exact moment of
time, I will have her prepared for my personal touch, by using this chain.
Much like a Japanese style of Wooden Pony, this chain will stay attached to
the strong arm of the gallows above. It will pass under her invitingly firm
ass and gorgeous pussy to be linked in a very tight enclosure, as it
circles her tiny waist in a most sadistically pleasing "thong." She will
then be lifted off of her straining legs and toes so that her entire weight
will be focused on her most tender of feminine charms. Her balance will be
maintained by her handcuffs passing around the chain, and over her head. We
have thirty minutes until three p.m., the ninth hour, and until that time
comes...our delightful young slave will entertain us with her pelvic
gyrations as the steel links will assault her like no hardened knuckles
could ever achieve. Gather 'round and wager your bets as to when she will
first scream in agony, and when she will indeed pass out. The winners of
each are allowed a full forty-eight hours with her, as my guests, in my
personal dungeon."
With that, she was taken off of the cart, turned to face the crowd, as her
arms were held aloft, chain sent down and in between her cuffs and her
back. A twinge of pleasure almost creased her mind, as she not only looked
fully into the eyes of her new Master, but also knowing that she was
finally about to be the person she was intended to be for so many years.
Yes, she was indeed reacting to this with a degree of pleasure.
The cold links were pulled tightly by her hooded escort, under her ass and
spreading her pussy lips. He held it at her navel, then circled it around
her tiny waist, fully to come around in front of her again. Looping it on
the links he originally held, he pulled it tightly again, back on itself,
to form an exquisitely tight knot of chain that bit into her warm flesh
from every direction. The chain was ratcheted up slightly, bringing her to
the tips of her toes, then off the platform, so that her weight naturally
went forward. She felt the intenseness of the pressure totally on that one
point of her wet pussy. Her arms kept her aligned vertically, but the
incredible pain shot through her like electricity, as her eyes quickly shut
out all sight as the searing pain almost choked the very breath from her
lungs.
Squirming immediately, she found there was no comfort from this insidiously
sadistic torture device. The only intention was for her to entertain these
men with her gorgeous body being used for such cruel pleasures. Soon, she
was "riding the pony," as her reflexive attempts to find some comfort
eluded her. The thick links of chain only rolled over a bit perhaps, to
reveal the same terrible force as her body weight made its own demands on
her softened, tenderized cunt. So cruelly passive in nature, it was perhaps
the most sadistic pain she'd ever imagined. Before dozens of men, now, she
was enduring it...hurting so badly that tears began to dampen the hot
wooden beams below her. Finally, she could bear it no longer and screams of
absolute hysteria broke over the usual, heaving hum of these gathered
sadists.
Again, and again, she screamed...begging for some relief...for some
attitude of comfort. Crying uncontrollably now, between the shrieks of
maddening torture, she felt the roughness of her head pulled back, as her
white-blonde hair was jerked upward and back by the Judge. Into his eyes
she saw her life possessed, as his smiling face indicated his pleasure at
sadistic tortures.
"You have done only ten minutes, my dear, and you have another twenty to
go. Have you given up on my wishes so soon?" She could only nod slightly,
and through parched lips, croak, "Please, sir."
"Very well then, for I am a considerate Master of my slaves; I will let you
decide now whether you will want to endure another twenty minutes of this
entertainment for my guests or enjoy a very special gesture of my
'ownership' of you."
"All of my personal slaves have one special identifying mark that is
permanently sealed into their bodies at the moment of my taking them into
my harem. You saw the cauldron with the irons inside them, I believe, when
you were headed this way in your cart. Those irons have my special seal of
approval fashioned onto them...an emblem that many would call a "brand,"
and I prefer to call a "Monogram." You have another twenty minutes to
endure "The Thong," as I like to refer to my little chain ordeal. If you
can last, and not make one sound, then you are spared from the branding for
a month. At that time, another test of your resolve will be offered you,
unless you choose to have the brand placed on you, which it inevitably will
anyway."
He turned her tear-streaked chin upward, while she was still squirming
uncontrollably now. The judge slowly licked her salty cheek, and asked her,
"More of this torture, my sweet, or do you want to go ahead and take
advantage of the numbness your cunt already has long since passed?" She
could only squeeze a piteous, "Please, Sir," out of her enflamed soul. He
countered, "The Thong?"
"No, Sir."..she clenched her teeth..."the Monogram...please, Sir."
"Ah," as he drug her head up for all to see the intensity of pain on her
gorgeous face, "she has chosen to have the branding done, instead of more
fun with The Thong. Let's take her down from this nasty contraption and
make ready for some sizzling entertainment, shall we?" The hooded escort
dropped her quickly to her feet, and as wobbly as ever, made sure she
didn't fall to the boards below. Hastily rearranging her arms to be opened
onto the cross behind her, she was soon spread into an "X" with all of her
charms visible to these men below. The cauldron was rolled over, heavily
creaking the weathered wooden platform, as carefully, the irons were kept
from jostling loose from the white hot core. A choke chain was passed over
her head, and down upon her soft, white neck as a leather strap was wrapped
around her forehead and snugly tightened to keep her head absolutely still.
The hooded monster was behind her, making sure the choke collar was so
effective. She felt her blood vessels swell in her neck as she found her
air strangled. Gasping with panic all over again, she looked down to see
the judge choosing one of the irons.
Another hooded guard placed thick leather gloves on the handle and raised
it up for her to see. In an oval shape, she could make out the letters "PW"
backwards. The man then turned to show the throng how incredibly hot it was
by spitting on it to reveal an instant curling of steam skyward. With a
grin under his mask, and the Judge beside him, he turned towards the girl,
now moving to get away as her last gasps of ragged breath warn of her
impending blackout. She slumped as again the murky darkness covered her
eyes. As her waist is caught up in the wide leather belt that will insure
she can't move, the branding iron is positioned, its heat radiating already
into her.
The Judge, knowing all is set, and his slave won't object physically now,
gives the nod. Just above her pubic bone, amongst the softness of her downy
hair, a red-hot piece of steel is placed at a depth of a quarter of an
inch...sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssizzling into her
virginal skin. Left there for 15 seconds, it burned a permanent fixture
into what was a totally unblemished part of her beautiful skin.
Forever now, she'll be labeled as a "Police Whore," a "PW" kept in the
buildings there, or the Judge's estate, as he chooses. However, now her
life does make sense, and she knows what she was groomed for...knowing all
along that this is her fate, she embraces each day with a peace she's never
known before. In time, the wound heals into a symmetrical diagram of her
status.
THE END
WolfenDom
Copyright '99
...to learn more of WolfenDom,
e-mail him at...
WolfnDom@aol.com
