Part Two
For two solid days and nights, Bret alternated between punishing Zara and
allowing her to suck him. Neither had had sleep in over 48 hours, and while Zara
was reaching a point of hysteria and complete psychological exhaustion, Bret was
more excited and seemingly indefatiguable.
She begged repeatedly to be freed, and when she realized that she would never be
allowed to leave, she softened her desperate demands by begging for rest.
"Why Zara, I bet you've lost 10 pounds of water weight since you got here. You
look splendid, even if you don't approve of you new accessories. Speaking of
accessories, I've got some new territory to cover before I introduce you to some
friends of mine."
Bret began eyeing her luscious tits, taking his fingers and squeezing her
hardening nipples. He left her for his work bench and returned with more
hardware. Zara's eyes refocused, fighting off the urge to sleep in order to see
what agony he had in store for her.
"If you look carefully at these rings, Zara, you'll see an inscription on the
outside of each band. Go ahead, read it. Read it aloud, honey."
Zara mindlessly complied with his latest instruction.
"'Property of Bret,'" she whispered with her hoarse voice.
"Exactly, and don't you forget it."
Without further ado, he produced another menacing needle and penetrated her
erect nipple. Zara threw her head back and screamed with all the volume her
worn-out vocal chords had. She heard the now-familiar "click" and he grabbed her
hair and forced her to bend down to observe this latest adornment. This ring
felt lighter than the ones in her pussy and clit, but the band itself was wider
and punched through most of her nipple flesh. She cried new tears at the sight.
Her wishful career as an actress was a distant memory and now, Bret was making
certain she could never get work in any legitimate entertainment field ever
again. All because she stuck to her principles and refused to sleep with him.
He affixed a matching nipple ring to her other tit and sucked on them hard to
elicit a few more fresh screams from Zara.
"While we've got the needles out, let's put another ring through your clit. This
one, just a little further back."
Zara started to plead for mercy, but she gave up as he plunged another sharp
needle into her increasingly sore clit. Bret slid another small ring just next
to the first one, side by side. There wasn't much space left, Bret thought to
himself, but if he felt like it later, he could probably fit another couple of
rings on her throbbing clit. To his chagrin, Zara passed out again. He slapped
her face rudely to renew her senses.
"Hey, hey, wake up kiddo, I'm going to take these wrist shackles down."
Bret had her stand on her tiptoes and then he released her to the floor. The
eyebolt-chains kept her attached to the concrete floor, so Zara knew she
couldn't make a run for the steel door. "I have something special for you,Zara.
A gift from me to you."
He withdrew a heavy black collar and snapped it around her neck. He took out two
small padlocks and clicked them to secure the collar around her fragile neck. It
fit tight around her neck, and within minutes the black leather was chafing her
tanned skin.
"Now, this gift is very special for two reasons. First, when I attach the chain
leash to this collar it signifies that I love you enough to want to walk you
around and show you off in front of friends and colleagues. Second, this collar
has a special feature that symbolizes in a very real way that I love you enough
to keep you near me at all times. Let me explain."
Bret walked to his work bench and picked up what looked to Zara like some simple
television remote control. He pressed one simple button and the leather began to
constrict Zara's neck, instantly blocking her ability to breathe. She wrapped
her hands around the collar vainly trying to squeeze her fingers between her
neck and the suffocating device. Bret pressed the button a second time and the
collar released its vice grip just as suddenly.
"Whenever you misbehave, I have only to cut off your oxygen supply and I think
you will get the message. Oh, and the other feature that I am really proud of?
It has a built in radius control device. If you stray from me in, oh, let's say
in an escape attempt, the collar identifies that you have gone outside of your
allowed radius and it releases a non-lethal nerve gas that serves to
incapacitate you immediately. The gas causes a few small side effects like
severe abdominal cramps, miosis of the optic nerve, vomitting, and dizziness,
but they are relatively temporary."
Zara only stared back in disbelief and disdain.
"Oh, and there is a fail-safe sensor in the collar, so that if for some reason
you were to remove the collar in my presence. You see, I am the center of your
world, therefore I am the center of your radius and the collar's computer
recognizes me; it won't release the gas within five feet of me I'm happy to say.
So, you see, you really are stuck with me, and wherever I choose to take you,
Zara."
Having explained her dubious situation, Bret felt no harm was done by releasing
her ankles from their shackles. Once this was accomplished, he attached a
six-foot chain leash to her collar, and instructed Zara to prop herself up on
her hands and knees. He unlocked the steel door entry and led her along the dark
tunnel leading away from her cell. She "walked" in the humiliating fashion down
the narrow concrete path with Bret tugging on her neck if she slowed her pace.
"I've got a few dozen close friends coming over tonight, Zara," he explained
while walking, "However, some of my friends are still nervous about the idea of
being seen with you. No, no, let me put it another way: Some of my more
prominent friends are nervous about being seen by you, and apparently, your
wearing a blindfold is just not assurance enough for them. Politicians and
actors can be so paranoid sometimes. Anyway, I promised to prepare you in a
special way just for them. After all, each person here tonight is paying big
bucks to fuck you, so how could I resist?"
Zara was utterly confused, and with the lack of sleep, she was finding it hard
to concentrate on his words, not to mention his meaning.
"Ah, here we are. Welcome to my humble clinic."
Zara was led into a brightly lit room, much like a doctor's office, decorated in
white on white. She was allowed to stand, and then commanded to lie back on the
table. She wanted to resist, her mind knew something wasn't right here, but her
brain and body were so pliable now and easily commanded. Bret strapped her
wrists to the sides of the white table then strapped her ankles to either side.
He wrapped another tight band around her waist and cinched it. Bret followed
this by securing her collar and neck in place at the head of the table. She
could move only slightly at her joints, but otherwise she was vulnerable and
motionless.
"I know how you love these needles, but this operation is a little more
delicate, Zara. I need you to close your eyes and remain perfectly still. That's
a good slave, close your eyes tightly for me."
Zara was getting nervous again, and thought to herself, what body parts could he
mean. What could be more delicate than my pussy and nipples? Suddenly, she felt
the sensation of the needle. The new pain was coming from her left eyelid: Bret
was sewing her upper and lower eyelids together.
With her right eye she strained to see the source of this excruciating pain, but
she could only make out Bret's hand moving up and down. Zara panicked and began
moving every muscle in her face and body. She was frantic and Bret couldn't
subdue her with his own two hands. Finally, he stepped back several feet and
pressed the red button on his remote control. Within seconds, the nerve gas
knocked Zara out and all her muscles collapsed as if on cue. She would be
unconscious for this rare treatment.
It was the first time Bret had felt any ounze of compassion for his victim, and
as he completed his work routinely, the unusual thought of compassion scared
him.
She started to feel the sensation of something warm and and moist on her face.
Her dreams and nightmares were coming to a close and her return to consciousness
was imminent.
Zara felt like she was awake now, but as she tried desperately to open her eyes,
she could not. It suddenly came back to her, and the tightness along her eyelids
confirmed the fact: her lids had been sewn shut! She started to panic at this
realization, and wanted to fidget. But her restraints were not limited to the
thin flesh covering her eyes.
As the sleeping state wore off, Zara became physically aware of her situation.
Her head was tilted back further than she thought it would bend, almost to the
middle of her back, and her hair had been french-braided and tied to her ankle
restraints. Zara was resting uncomfortably on her knees, still wearing her
original high heels, with her neck straining to reach her ankles. And the warm
liquid sensation across her face? Oh, my God, she realized from the
smell....someone is pissing on me!
Actually, several people were taking their turns pissing on poor Zara. Her head
was leaned back and this allowed the male and female party guests to aim their
urine right down her cooperating throat. Some were missing the goal, but most
were striking the tongue and spraying Zara with the most bitter taste she had
ever known.
Once she gained consciousness again, she fought the party goers and spit the
incoming piss out; but Bret handled the insubordinance with appropriate measures
by squeezing the collar around her neck. Zara quickly remembered the
asphyxiating form of punishment and she suffered through additional pissing.
By the time this unseen ordeal was over, Zara had received the piss from 25
party-ers, and some of them had gone through the line twice. If she hadn't been
so thirsty, and if Bret hadn't starved her over the last 56 hours, then she
might have thrown up the contents in her stomach. But Zara was just that
thirsty, and just that hungry, that she didn't seem to care anymore.
Eventually, Zara adjusted to the stitching in her eyelids, and the pain in her
joints as her body was stretched unnaturally. She overheard Bret's voice and
keyed into his announcements. "Now that everyone has been relieved, feel free to
take your turn at fucking this lovely young slave. Cunt, mouth, ass---I expect
them all to be violated. Many times over in fact. Have at it, friends, and
whenever you feel like quitting, there will someone next to you who is willing
to take over."
And so it happened just as Bret pronounced. Zara felt her pussy invaded by
strange cocks, some tentative, but most rough and violent. She felt her mouth
being covered by the lips of men and women alike. She could taste the alcohol
and appetizers on their breath. Zara felt the hands tug at her nipple rings, tug
until they almost ripped out of her body. And worse, she felt bodies rubbing
against her back where the fresh scars of her branding screamed in pain.
The fucking went on for hours. Men diving their cocks in her pussy, her ass, and
literally ripping her apart. She sceamed, but the screams of a slave only
excerbated their efforts. The anal thrusts came harder and even the women with
strap-on dildoes demonstrated no mercy. She had been penetrated multiple times
by 25 guests, and she had lost count of the total number of fucking violations.
75? Maybe 100 times? She couldn't remember; it was all one big atrocious blur of
pain and penetration.
Strangely, she had expected to have men cum down her mouth. Her boyfriends
always preferred to splash cum on her face, so she was preparing herself
mentally for this insult. But none of the men released their cum on her
face.Zara felt a kind of relief, but she had no inkling of what Bret had planned
inadvance. The men were instructed to spew their loads into one of the champagne
glasses and when all of them were collected....
Bret brought the glass to his slave, who thought her fucking torment was
over.She was dead wrong. He got the attention of all invited then held the full
glass over Zara's unsuspecting face. He quickly propped her jaw open wide and
tipped the glass to release the gooey white substance straight down her throat.
Zara was getting sick at her stomach, but she knew better than to resist. Maybe
there was still the slim chance that Bret would free her. She gulped the sperm
down and let nothing escape her mouth.
The guests were all mightily impressed, and several of them inquired about
"renting" her out from Bret. Zara kneeled at her master's side and wondered if
and when she was to be sold off to someone else.
"Now, now, friends, before you ask, I have to tell you, my slave Zara doesn't
come cheap. If you need to use her for a night or a weekend, we're talking about
$10,000 easy. And if you plan on incorporating any serious means of punishment
or torture, well, we're talking about maybe----"
Suddenly, Bret's voice was cut off without courtesy or warning. A heavily
accented Japanese man from the back silenced the room: "One million dollars! I
offer one million dollars to you sir, to buy your slave for my personal use---no
holds barred---for one week. One week, one million, no questions asked."
The attention of the room focused on this man in shades, sitting on the long
leather sofa. All eyes then seemed to turn back to Zara and her master. Bret
stayed silent for a moment, then reminded himself of the money involved. He
looked down at the helpless Zara, watching her eyes---still sewn
together---manage to release a number of frightened tears. Zara cried because
her intuition told her that this foreign buyer would be worse than anything Bret
could dream up.
