Teema was awed by her first view of the dungeon. I don't know what she was expecting - in fact, I didn't know if she was expecting anything, but the sight of the huge bubble in the rock, well lighted and furnished and populated had her frozen in place and just staring. I knew she would be hungry, so I asked, "Teema, I'll have some food made - what do you usually eat? And is there anything you aren't supposed to have?" Until I read the information that came with her, I had no idea of her status.
In her quiet voice, she replied in perfect English. "I have spent my life living in all parts of the world, sir. There is little that I haven't tried. I have no religious beliefs that bar me from eating certain foods."
I told Pancake to fix us some dinner, and with several different choices. At my desk, while we were waiting, I indicated a chair that she could relax into. I opened the thin envelope, withdrew a sheaf of papers and began to read.
The Information was obviously written by a non-native English speaker. Some of it took a while for me to decipher though the fractured grammar. But the gist of it is as follows-
Teema was the daughter of an educated family, related in some indecipherable way to Ayhan - what the heck, call her his niece. Her parents worked for the government and were aides to various ambassadors around the world. As she had said, she spent almost the entirety of her life in one capital or another around the world. That explained her command of multiple languages. Then one fateful day, she was fortunately elsewhere when a bomb took out the ambassadors limo and her parents with it.
Now came a part that I had trouble understanding, despite multiple re-readings. Eventually, through all the broken grammar, badly translated legalese, and descriptions of customs that I didn't understand, I finally got an idea of her plight. Her parents were very well off, and the inheritance would descend to Teema when she came of age, which was apparently the age of 20 - three years from now. However, if something happened to her in the meantime, the estate would devolve onto another relative. I gathered that the idea of that relation getting any part of the inheritance was a total anathema to Ayhan. Reading between the lines, Ayhan thought of that relative's entire family to be about equivalent to what a camel converted grain into.
After a couple of incidents that the information didn't go into, Ayhan had come to the conclusion that if his niece stayed in that country, then she was unlikely to see her next birthday, much less the one three years away. In conclusion, he asked my help in hiding and protecting her until she reached her majority. He knew that I had placed an order with Tarkan for a girl who spoke high class English, Turkish and Arabic, but hadn't found a suitable one yet, and given the type of merchandise he that usually arrived at his establishment, the odds were very low that he ever would.
He asked that she be treated as an honored guest until she reached her majority.
But, in return for protection, Teema would fit the bill nicely as a language tutor. In our friendship, I would have helped Ayhan out in any case, but he was correct, she was just what I had been looking for.
The girls set up a dinner table in my office area, loaded it with masses of food, then with surreptitious looks at the new girl, left us alone to eat. Teema did not speak during the meal, but had a healthy appetite. If the airline that she had flown in on was anything like the ones in the USA, she was probably starving after being offered the crap that was passed off as food by the flight attendants.
After the meal and the table had been removed, I told Pancake to call everyone together for instructions. Shortly, she came over and informed me that my slaves were ready. I motioned Teema to follow me over to the area where they were all lined up, squatting, knees apart and waiting.
"This is Teema, " I started, pointing at the new visitor. "She is a relative of a good friend of mine and is a free woman. You will call her Mistress and will obey her as you do me. You will obey any orders and accept any punishment that she sees fit to give." I nodded to Pancake. "Thats all."
Back at my desk, and sitting down, I asked Teema. "What did your Uncle tell you about my business?"
She replied. "He described you as very wealthy and this cave as your private harem and that you sometimes bought and sold upper class women in our country." She looked around. "I have to say, that his description of this- place was far from adequate."
"You, of course, know why he sent you here."
"Yes, Sir. Because my lifespan was probably going to be extremely short if I continued to abide anywhere in reach of that- " At this point she inserted an unknown word, but I had no problem figuring out that it wasn't a complimentary description. "He also said that you wanted to learn Turkish and Arabic, and that possibly I could assist you in that endeavor." I was about to reply, but she continued, "Let me say, Mr Tatum, that I am grateful for your protection and that I will assist you in any way that you see fit."
I smiled. "Excellent. I want the lessons be totally immersion based. That is, once I can began to put sentences together, we will only speak in that language. We will only drop back into English in the case of some technical word that can't be translated. Meanwhile, let me show you to your bedroom in the house upstairs, although as you can see there are sleeping places everywhere down here, so feel free to sack out anywhere you wish. "
"You might have noticed that nobody down here wears clothes, including me normally. You may do what you wish in that respect. Also, feel free to give orders to any of my girls or the boy for anything you need or want." I was wondering how to phrase the next information, then thought, what the heck, give it out with the bark on. It isn't like she won't know what goes on here.
"One other thing. This cave is my harem, and I use the girls for that. If it offends you in anyway, I have no problem with you wishing to live upstairs and avoid my dungeon. And as I said, the use of my slaves is yours while you are here, in any way you wish."
My lessons started immediately. In a few weeks I could put together short sentences and we went to the mode of only speaking in Turkish or Arabic. Teema was a child of the world, and had no problem with my lifestyle. She would strip off her simple one piece gown and enter the hot tub with no qualms of nudity. When the girls cleaned and washed her, she acted like it was a normal feature of life. So far she showed no sign of being a dominatrix - orders that she gave to the girls were ordinary, and no different, either in tone or content, than she would have given to an servant back home. In a very short time, she was spending the days nude like everyone else and thinking nothing of it.
Coco awed her for a while. The boy/girl was her first experience with actually seeing an intersex person. She was actually shocked when she saw Pudgy for the first time.
Pudgy was now a huge overflowing mass of girl flesh. She could barely rise to her hands and knees or turn over. I doubt that she could walk anymore, even if her neck chain would have allowed her to get to her feet. On the occasions that I fucked her, it was like laying on a large warm waterbed. Her flesh would ripple and wave back and forth with my movements as I pounded her pussy. She was big enough to fall asleep on after sex, if one wanted to do that. Her tits would put basketballs to shame for size, and her face was so puffy that her eyes looked out through long tunnels. There was no way to weigh her, but I estimated that she had to weigh in at upwards of four hundred pounds. Her pussy lips were so prominent that it took at least half the length of my cock to just reach her actual love channel. Her brand was almost closed up by the overarching flesh of her thigh. To make it easier to keep her clean, she was now shorn of all hair, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She was barely recognizable as a woman, and not at all as Shirley, the ex-detective.
Day after day, she just lay there on her back or stomach with arms and legs spread out in chains, waiting for the next delivery of her enriched milk supply. The liquid that she consumed was now metered and pushed up the tube with a pump. That way, the precise amount for her to consume for the day could be regulated. Also, because she was so inactive and had no use of her hands, she now had a throat tube held in place by what looked like a gag, but wasn't. The liquid could now be delivered directly into her stomach. She had long since stopped getting regular meals - the cook would now puree her food in a blender and mix it in with the milk. The richness of the liquid supply had been decreased to prevent her from getting any larger. I didn't want a lump of a woman who couldn't move herself around on her platform at all, however little she could anyway. Her bodily functions had been on automatic for so long that I doubt that she was even aware of pissing and shitting. At least twice a day she would be rolled over to her other side and fastened back in her spread eagle position. Her arm and leg muscles were almost nonexistent now, so she would almost stay spread without the chains, which were really just used for symbolism - there being no possible way for her to escape from the cave, or even just to crawl a few feet.
I had sent Jameel a request for a meeting, using the secure method that I had set up for him. We met at the same club, then in the same park across the street. I gave him pictures of my actress and Ms B. and as much information as I knew about them, including proof that the older one was definitely upper class. I knew that the younger girl, just because she was famous, and beautiful, would be highly desired, but didn't know about the older woman. He commented that the two women were excellent. He would forward the information to his Uncle and wait for a reply. He also asked for my asking price for the pair.
"Jameel, " I replied. "I don't want money. I don't need it and have too much now. What I am interested in is a trade for something. Maybe girls, maybe something else exotic. As the American vernacular goes, 'Make me an offer I can't refuse.'"
He didn't answer. He was suddenly staring at the picture of the ex-Hollywood star. Then he looked up at me with an incredulous expression that seemed to change by the second from disbelief to awe. First came some expression in Arabic - maybe a curse, maybe an appeal to the gods - I couldn't tell. That language I hadn't started on yet. Then he started to speak, thought better of it, and looked around to make sure that nobody was listening. "You have-" He lowered his voice even more and apparently decided not to say her name. "-this girl?! She didn't die by falling into the ocean? You took her-? -have her?"
I just smiled. Another unknown exclamation in Arabic. Then, "My uncle will-" he struggled for a word or phrase, "be inside himself."
"You probably mean, 'beside himself'", I said with a grin.
He looked at me with a wan expression. "I should control myself. All I am doing is driving up the price." He looked around again. "What is your fee for these women?
I realized that, in the sudden realization of what he was bargaining for, he had not heard a word I had said about trading instead of money. I restated my desire for some object or objects, not a pile of money for the pair and warned him to be very very careful about who he let see those pictures.
"Otherwise, my friend, you are liable to be to be hauled off to a really bad place to answer questions that you don't have the answers to."
I was sitting in the parlor of Suliman, the courtesan trainer, sipping tea, which I despise, but I had learned early on that my host never touched alcohol. We conversed on many things, none of them pertaining to women, until a woman entered the office, bowed and informed us that Stephanie was in one of the show rooms, waiting. I nodded to Suliman and followed the woman down the hall to a room that was used to allow examination of an item by a client. Inside the room was a naked woman. She was immaculately clean, a vast improvement from the last time I saw her. She had a thin green scarf around her neck. I realized that the color probably was a code for his employees, probably indicating her status or progress in training. She just quietly stood in the middle of the room, head bowed, and in a sirik. Chains led from her collar to both wrists, which were also hooked with a short chain, then from there to her ankle bracelets. Her ankles were also chained together but with a length to allow her to walk. None of the bindings prevented any normal use of hands and feet - they were just to indicate the status to herself and others that she was a slave - totally. Her earlobes, nipples and pussy lips had rings and jewelry hanging from them.
As the door began to open, she instantly dropped to her knees, head bowed and frozen in place. I walked up to her, then slowly around and just looked for a few seconds, then, taking my clothes off, sat down in a chair in front of her and waited. I was wondering what she would do, but she could have been a marble statue rather than a very desirable middle aged woman. Obviously, the lesson that the days of being a demanding socialite were gone had been well and truly drummed into her skin.
"Look at me," I demanded. She immediately looked up, and her eyes instantly widened as she recognized me. I saw the muscles of her jaw twitch, just before she clamped off the exclamation. Her face stayed blank, but I knew that inside she was raging to ask questions. I just looked her up and down as she looked back, head lowered but eyes still on me. Finally, I spread my knees apart and said, "Address yourself to my pleasure."
Instantly, she rose, moved up to my chair, dropped to her knees again and began to suck. I remembered back to years ago, the first time when she would barely touch my cock with her tongue, and then had to be whipped to make her take it in her mouth. Now, as I sat there trying to hold back my premature orgasm, she demonstrated an knowledge of frenching that I had never felt before, by far - had never even imagined. Cupcake was good at it, but now I knew now that she was a bumbling amateur compared to her aunt's newly acquired skill.
This chained girl could take my cock all the way down her throat, then with her tongue, tickle the front of my ball sac, then wiggle them to make them swing back and forth sideways. She would use her teeth with just enough pressure to rake the skin of my cock as she withdrew. She would clamp on my rod, just past the circumcised head, and saw her lower teeth sideways back and forth on that extremely sensitive spot just under and back of the head. I suddenly realized that her tongue was pierced, and the device had two different ends - the top had a flat and very rough surface that she would drag up and down the bottom of my cock, almost making me jump out of my skin. The bottom of the device had a stack of tiny round balls, small, medium and large, with the largest next to her tongue. She would curl her tongue up, then insert the little ball stack into the hole in the end of my rod and wiggle while pulling on the head with her lips. I had never felt anything like that before - both pain and pleasure in my never before violated peehole.
Anytime that she detected that I was about to blow, she would switch to just a slow licking or suction till my balls unknotted. Once the danger point passed, she would start again, with a different technique. As I shot off, way too soon, she actually helped pump out the cum by swallowing my pecker whole, then dragging her teeth on it as she pulled out, then again and again until I was empty. And not a drop was seen - she took it all in. As I sat there recovering, I thought about the huge gap between the performance of a an expert amateur and the demonstrated expertise of the absolute master of a skill. And in front of me, now having moved back a few feet and waiting with head bowed, was an master of unbelievable ability.
Once I had decided that the jelly in my legs had firmed up enough to be able to stagger to my feet, I exited the room and headed back to the parlor. I was effusive in my praise of Suliman's services, paid him in full and with a bonus for spectacular results.
"My friend," he said. "Your woman has made remarkable progress in her abilities, but I can assure you that she is only a pale shadow of the actual possiblilities of her profession. To make a proper courtesan, we alway try to start with a girl who has just come from her mother's breasts. For proper training, she needs to be well along in instruction by the time she goes through her female change into a woman."
Wow, was all I thought.
I received a message from Jameel confirming the desire for the purchase of my movie star. Also a request to visit his uncle at his home to negotiate the transaction. That was fine with me, and arrangements were made. Meanwhile, I sat and thought about the population of my dungeon. When Stephanie eventually showed up, I would have too many slaves. Pudgy didn't really count since she was more of a piece of furniture rather than a usable girl, and I didn't have much interest in the boy from a sexual standpoint. I just kept him around as a plaything, plus I was interested in how far I could stretch his ball sac. Chocolate was still my favorite bedwarmer and Coco was an exotic that gave spice to the mix. That left Pancake and Cupcake as ordinary girls and potential sales items.
As I mused over the status of each slave, I walked around the dungeon just looking and talking with Teema. Pudgy was obviously still just stretched out on her back. At intervals, the feed tube would pump in a measured amount of liquid food and swallowing was just automatic. Her piss flowed out as it was produced, and her poop was flushed out automatically once a day without any effort on her part. I wondered about the state of her mind as time flowed by, year by year, after just laying there in the same location, with no stimulation except for what she could see across the cave and no way to communicate with anyone. Did boredom atrophy the mind? Actually there was little she could see - if she was on her stomach, she couldn't hold her head up long and most of the time it just lay down onto the mat. If she was on her back, her entire view was of the ceiling of the cave over her and nothing else. She was manually rolled over twice a day to prevent bed sores, but other than that nobody ever gave her a command - there was nothing that she could do in response to anything, anyway. Did she even notice when the boy or Coco, and very seldom myself, climbed onto her gigantic body and used her pussy? If her gigantic boobs were played with, or the nipples pinched and pulled she seldom reacted, just laying there as her liquid food was delivered. I didn't know and there was no way to ask.
I motioned for the boy to come and stand by my chair. I examined his swinging nuts, now almost to the level of his knees. There were about six inches of stretched scrotum showing between the three weights sitting on his sack of nuts, and bottom of his dick. Interestingly, the huge stretch had no effect on his ability to orgasm, except that he had to be careful not to let them swing into something when he was pumping away. By now, he almost alway fucked a girl from behind with her bent over something because of the fact that if the girl was laying on her back, his nuts would drag back and forth on the bed, or pallet or whatever she was laying on.
For now, my usual play toy or bed warmer was selected from Choclate, Pancake or Cupcake. Once Teema had come accustomed to the lifestyle in my home, I told her in plain terms that she was welcome to any of them for service at any time. She was hesitant at first, but eventually bedded down on occasion with Cupcake - probably since she was the only normal girl in the cave that was close to her age. I assumed that it was Cupcake that was doing the servicing, but it could have been going both ways for all I knew.
NYC and parts east
Jameel met me at our usual watering hole. Only this time we stayed inside and enjoyed the ambiance of the exclusive establishment. I certainly had enough money to become a member of the club, or most any other I wanted, but it just wasn't my thing. For one, every conversation that I overheard had to do with deals, proposals, speculation and other high flying forays into financial details. I just wasn't interested. I had the fortune to get in on gold before it zoomed to its current highs, and I liked the investment because once I bought into gold, gold stocks or such, I could forget them.
He informed me that his uncle had sent one of his private jets to pick me up. (Apparently every male in the Middle East was an uncle to every other male.) I assumed that a corporate jet would be waiting at the airport, but once we got there, Jameel led me to a huge 767.
"What the fuc- frack," I exclaimed. "How many people are going with us?"
"Just you, my friend," Jameel replied. "He didn't invite me." Up the boarding ramp we went into the plane. I was expecting the normal cavernous insides of a wide body plane, but this one was like Air Force One. All rooms and sleeping quarters. A minion took my bag, and a- flight attendant? came up to us from the back somewhere.
"Good morning, Mr. Al-Fulan." Totally American accent. "Mr. Tatum, I presume?"
"That's me," I replied, still bemused by the idea of traveling alone in this flying boardroom.
Jameel took my hand, and said. "Bonnie can take care of you from here. I'm back to the grindstone." I waved goodbye and he departed down the ramp.
"This way Mr. Tatum. You will be most comfortable in the forward lounge 'till we get airborne." As she led me up the hall she asked, "I have any drink you want. Would you like breakfast? Or a snack?"
"Just coffee, please" as we entered a large cabin with different kinds of loungers scattered all over. Actually, I doubt that scattered was the word, since they were all obviously fastened to the deck and immovable. Someone obviously carefully planned the arrangement. I heard an engine start, and then the other and soon we were taxing out for takeoff. I watched Bonnie as she stowed some stuff up front. Wow. A real dish. Probably early twenties, 5'8", 120 pounds. Big tits, big hips, thin waist, and real blond hair, I thought. She would take about six inch wrist bracelets and about ten inch ones on her ankles. I wondered what her qualifications had be to get this job. Of course, anyone who thought nothing about sending a jumbo jet to pick up one person could have his pick of girls as stewardesses. In an hour, we were high over the Atlantic heading east.
I got up and walked around, just looking. I made sure not to enter any room with a shut door, but there were plenty of other places to visit. I didn't find a swimming pool, but there was plenty of other entertainment to while away the long hours. A movie studio with a gigantic flat screen and more loungers, another viewing room with multiple kiosks with TV's - connected I assume to a master DVD jukebox, or equivalent somewhere. Meeting rooms with long desks, several bedrooms, more rooms with comfortable chairs. It went on and on.
Back in the original lounge, Bonnie brought more coffee and a selection of sweet rolls and snacks. "Anything else, Mr. Tatum?"
"Nope, this will do fine for now. Thank you."
She leaned over to me, her double D's trying to pop the top button that was bravely straining to hold back the flesh. A bra would have helped tremendously. "My instructions are to make sure that I give you anything you want on this flight. Just let be know."
I noticed that the offer wasn't for anything I needed, just anything I wanted. Maybe this flight wouldn't be so long after all.
Some forsaken place in the desert of Saudi Arabia.
A limo about the length and size of a school bus pulled up to the now parked plane. An aide, dressed in standard western business attire, greeted me and escorted me from the blazing asphalt to the delicious coolness of the vehicle. Immediately, we drove down the ramp and out of the airport. Apparently, anyone connected with my host didn't need to worry about minor things like customs or passports. Seventy minutes later, after driving at about ninety miles an hour down the flattest and straightest road I have ever seen, a walled town finally appeared on the horizon.
My guide pointed and said, "That is our destination."
"What town is is," I asked.
"It isn't a town. It is the primary residence of his excellency Abdul Hassan."
Holy shit. From here it looked to be about the size of a small town back in my state. Shortly, we passed through the guarded gate and into the compound. My host's home was a huge mansion in the middle of several dozen acres of outbuildings, water gardens and lawns. Where all the water came from in the middle of the Arabian desert was a mystery to me. We stopped at the front of what appeared to be the main building, and several lackeys immediately appeared to collect my luggage. A fantastically dressed individual approached me and said, "Mr Tatum. I will show you to your rooms where you can rest from your travel." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed back up the marble steps with me following.
The walk though the mansion was like a stroll through a museum. Fantastic displays lined the hall that was wider than most houses - paintings, statuary, glass cases with treasures. Finally, several million dollars worth of displays later, we got to a tall set of double doors, which opened as we approached. Inside was my "rooms." All of which took up about the same area as an entire floor of a major hotel. I turned to my guide for instruction and noticed that he had already disappeared. No matter. In a few moments another servant approached and motioned me into another room - a bedroom. At least, it had a bed on a raised dais, silk curtains everywhere, and gigantic mirrors over several pieces of furniture.
"You will want to bathe, of course. His excellency has requested that you join him for lunch. Dress will be casual." Nobody seemed to care if I replied to anything or not. He clapped his hands and two gorgeous, not quite naked young girls immediately stepped up and began to undress me. Fortunately, Bonnie had drained me totally on the plane as she initiated me into the mile high club, several times, so my rod didn't immediately respond to the unexpected service. Once my underwear had dropped to the floor, they motioned me into an adjoining room with what I assumed to be a huge hot tub installed in the floor. Of course, most standard hot tubs don't come with massive gold fittings and trim in what seemed like acres of beautiful marble floor, but obviously this one was a special order.
As I relaxed, my two sirens proceeded to clean me from top to bottom, literally. I made note of several procedures that I would initiate once I got home to my non-gold enhanced hot tub. In an hour or so, I was squeaky clean all over and wearing fresh clothes that I hoped weren't too casual. I had a set of Seville Row suits if needed, but the lackey had indicated no formalware for lunch.
I was escorted down about a mile of hallway to a small dining room, I supposed. Once again, my guide asked me to wait without bothering with my reply, and left. Shortly, the double doors opened and the Man entered. A middle aged man, dressed in what I assumed were casual clothes of a light robe and headdress. He walked over to me with his hand out.
"Mr. Tatum. My name is Abdul Hassan. I am very glad to meet you." So far so good. A standard meeting. He gestured to the small table. "Please sit down." I did so and as soon as my host assumed his chair, the doors opened and a series of servants entered with drinks, soup and a dozen or so plates of meats and breads. He gestured over the table. "All of this is standard fare, Mr. Tatum. You won't be surprised by something to upset the western palate." I thanked him and he continued. "My threshold of boredom is very low, so I hope you won't be offended if we talk during our meal?"
"Certainly, Sir. I can talk and eat at the same time."
"Mr. Tatum," he began. "We are having this meeting for one reason." Of course - a famous movie star, I thought. I was wrong. "Jameel related your first conversation to me and I decided to transact in person rather than use an associate." What the heck? I tried to remember what I might have said to impress a multibillionaire. "I know that you are a very wealthy person, but you indicated that you had no interest in accumulating more wealth, but wished for something of value in trade. That makes you a rare individual indeed, to finally recognize when the amount of enough has been reached."
I could think of nothing to say in response to the praise, so I just took another drink and waited.
"It is none of my business, but I would be interested to hear how you got into your current, well, shall we say? Line of business?"
I thought for a moment, the decided to give him what he wanted. A billionaire could probably find out as much as he wanted to anyway. I gave him a synopsis of my life from the inheritance of the Hotel to now, just avoiding any mention of the cave. I just let him assume that I had a big basement for my dungeon. During the talk, we adjourned to a roof top lounge over looking the desert through the glass walls. All that could be seen were miles and miles of miles and miles.
Finally, I wound down, and he sat back in thought. "So you are looking for the different, the exotic, something besides the normal female, no matter how subservient." It wasn't a question as much as just a musing statement while he thought. "I am the same way. I collect females of all kinds from all lands. In fact, it has been my only hobby since I inherited my father's estate as a young man." He waved his arm at the vast expanse of desert beyond the glass. "As you might imagine, I have no problem with keeping women here, willing or not. No woman, least of all some civilized female from another country could live for long out there even if she knew how to navigate the desert. The sun by itself would bring her to a cruel end long before nightfall."
"May I ask, has any tried to escape from here?"
"Once, back when I was young and naive, a girl left during the night. We didn't find her for several days, and then only her bones. It has never happened since. My first training session of any new acquisition is to take her out a few kilometers during the day, and turn her loose to walk back to my compound. Some don't even make it that far and we watch for them collapsing from the heat and sun and then are brought back. After that lesson, no female is going to delude herself into thinking that she can walk a hundred and sixty kilometers to a city. Even if she did, no woman can just walk around the streets here without being picked up."
It was middle afternoon. Jet lag was not a problem with me since long ago I had learned to start adjusting my sleeping schedule starting a week or so before I left for the other side of the world. Suddenly he said, "Let us retire for a while. We can continue this conversation at dinner. Mr. Tatum, feel free to avail yourself of any of the females that you find in your suites. There is apparatus available for them if you want." Immediately, from some hidden signal, my original guide entered the room and escorted me back to my quarters.
Another refreshing bath, in which I did some of the cleaning this time on my two bath partners, but didn't "avail" myself of either of the girls - my cojones were still recovering from Bonnie, and I was no longer a teenager. In a couple of hours, I was back in a far larger and much more formal dining room wearing a suit.
When the sumptuous meal was finished, we were back in the observation room. He brought out the packet that I had given his man in New York City and spread the contents over the table in front of us. "Now, Mr Tatum, tell me in detail of the operation in which this female fell into your hands."
With many pauses for his questions, I recited the sequence of events from the time of conception to capture. By the time I was finished, it was night. During the recitation, I watched the sun go down over the far distant dunes - a beautiful sight from the rooftop.
Finally, he suddenly came to the point of my visit. "Mr Tatum, I have selected some items from which a possible trade for your merchandise may be made. Please do not consider yourself to be under any obligation to accept it, or any others. If none are satisfactory, I will make more effort to find a suitable trading item." The door opened and two young girls were escorted in to the room.
I looked as their escort placed them in front of us. Very young, hairless from the neck down, obviously prepubescent. And- identical twins. Very pretty, small but totally firm titties up front - dark but prominent nipples. And, they were connected by about a three foot gold plated chain connecting their neck collars, also gold plated. At a word from their handler, they stood straight up, and spread their legs to the full extent, with hands at their sides. Surhan waved at them, "Please examine them to any extent you want."
I looked at him for a moment, then got up and circled around the two girls. This was going to be a beautiful pair when they matured. I stooped down to examine their smooth pubes and venus mounds. There was a no hint of depilation or shaving, but looking up at their growing breasts, I was puzzled. Girls didn't get tits until they started getting hair.
"Do not be confused with their smoothness. They are indeed past their female change but, like you, I have grown fond of the western look of hairless women." Ah ha, that made them probably fourteen or fifteen years of age. I examined the chain holding them together. When I lifted it, I realized my mistake. It was not gold plated - it was solid gold. Probably twenty or so caret, since the pure metal would be far too weak and soft for strength. Looking at each end of their bonds, I saw no locks or fasteners. Again, Abdul spoke. "The chain is never removed. The two girls have been bound together since they started walking." At my look of incredulity, he continued, "Yes, they have never been further than that length from each other their entire lives. They are of course, virgins." In a while, I was finished with my examination, and their handler towed them out of the room.
In came another man with a girl in sirik, small chains connecting her limbs to her throat collar. Her ears were pierced with gold rings, her pussy lips also had a delightful arrangement of rings. There were golden bands around her upper arms. No barely pubescent kid this time - a young teenage woman with sexuality oozing from every pore. She stopped, and stood in front of us in that timeless female pose with one leg bent, an arm across her midriff and the other held out in the same direction. Large and high tits, thin waist and big hipped. She could probably squeeze the seed from a man like an olive press.
"This woman has been bred to be a bed partner - nothing else. She cannot talk or hear and responds only to sign language. No expense has been spared to train her to pleasure a man to the last ounce of his strength. Submission and service to a man is all she knows." I continued to look at her wide eyed. My rod was taking on a life on its own, and all I was doing was looking. "She has no knowledge of anything outside of this building and has never left it. To her, the world is not a mystery - it doesn't even exist." I again walked around the slave, examining her closely and trying not to let my cock push a hole in my very expensive suit pants.
I sat down as she was led off. Christ on a crutch. I had thought of myself as a top professional purveyor of submissive women. I was beginning to realize that I was just an amateur hobbyist. Jeez. What was next?
The next girl was beautiful, obviously of Oriental extraction, but as far as I could see just an ordinary woman. I had a feeling that I would be disabused of that qualification shortly. I looked over at my host for enlightenment.
"She, also has been trained for service to men, but in a different way. He waved at her handler, who immediately dropped his robe - his only garment other than slippers. A word to the woman and she immediately assumed the doggy position. Her handler dropped to his knees and entered her pussy from behind. Big deal. But, suddenly, leaving her legs and hips in the same position, began to fold her body underneath both of them and brought her head up under her twat and took his balls in her mouth. I felt my eyes trying to bug out. She then continued on the same path to put her tongue in his asshole. A few seconds later she unfolded as I was still watching in disbelief. But she wasn't through. Bending the other way, she bent her back to where she could lick his cock on the top as it stroked in and out of her pussy. She had to have been born without bones.
A while later, as we sat looking at the desert night, Surhan asked, "Would any of those be a satisfactory trade for your catch?"
I almost missed what he had said, as I just sat there thinking over the trio of women I had just seen. And for all I knew, these were inferior culls that he would like to get rid of. "Yes," I said, "Any of them would be more than satisfactory." But which did I want? I hoped I didn't have to decide right then.
"Sleep on it. We will conclude our transaction in the morning." With that, I followed my escort back to my suite.
Teema had become really smitten with Cupcake, so I gave orders to have the girl be her body slave while she was my guest. Of course, since Cupcake couldn't leave the dungeon, Teema spent most of her time down there, even sleeping with her on one of the many mats and mattresses around the cave. That just left me with Chocolate, Pancake and Coco. Occasionally I would take the boy from behind. By now he would tolerate either myself or Coco plugging him, but the act would never be one that he cared for.
I had procured some special cock rings for both of my swinging dicks. These were rings that would be placed over the cock and balls, although in the case of Coco with no nut sac, the ring was much smaller and just went around the base of her dick. A long shaft went under their taints then right angled up into the asshole. The shaft ended in a large steel ball. I tried one myself, and was surprised at the erotic feeling it gave. As the wearer moved around, the natural movement of the shaft between the legs would move the ball in the anus, slowly massaging the prostate. Unless the person had been drained recently, it wouldn't take long, especially with Coco, before a spontaneous orgasm would result. Even fucking with it, brought new sensations as it moved around.
To save the boy and two girls the necessity of continually servicing my boy/girl, and to keep from having to lock her up and belted for constantly begging for sex, I gave Coco permission to fuck Pudgy whenever she wanted, and almost every day would see her laying on the huge mass of rippling girl meat, pumping away. As long as it would rub on her cock, Coco had absolutely no discrimination about what she put it into.
I received a call that a certain airplane had landed at the airport in the nearest city. I dosed my actress slave with just enough drug to make her docile, then drove her to the field. There I turned her over to an attendant and watched it begin its journey back to the Middle East. Her acting career in Hollywood was over - a new one was about to start far away.
A message came in that my half of the bargain had arrived at Tarken's for processing. Then another informed me that delivery across town had been and that Suliman had begun the training regimen. And that Stephanie's was coming along fine, also.
Meanwhile, I thought about the final subject that Abdul had sprung on me. I was still somewhat stunned at the audacity of his request. After agreeing on the final details of our trade, and just a few hours before I left, he called me into his study. He handed me a photo. I took it and looked - it was a stock shot of a movie actress, one of the highest paid and most successful in Hollywood. Middle thirties, big boobed and big lipped - a real knockout.
I admired the photo for a few seconds then looked at my host for an indication of what-
"Holy shit." That was out loud. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Why not just ask me to drive up to the back of Fort Knox and load up my pickup with gold bars before anyone notices?
"You aren't serious?"
"Mr. Tatum," he began. "I am not suggesting any course of action for you. I just wish to point out that upon delivery of this person, I would reciprocate beyond your wildest dreams."
I looked back at the picture, then back at my host. "Mr. Hassan. My usual delivery consists of high class women who had been seeking a service in total anonymity and secrecy. Because of that, the actual capture of them is no risk and dead easy. Even the young star that is now yours got into her predicament because of a desire to hide her drug and alcohol use. But-" I waved the picture, "-this woman is as hard to approach as the Pope. I can't even imagine the situation that would allow her to disappear."
"I am not placing an order. Just mentioning a possible future possibility."
I continued to think about that as I flew back to the US. In fact, I couldn't get it out of my mind. Totally ridiculous, of course. I wasn't running a Mission Impossible team. In fact, I didn't even get into the permanent slave business until I was made to by my first two girls and then had to continue with several others in a defensive move.
I was anxious to get Stephanie back into my possession. If, as Suliman had claimed, that she was an inferior specimen of the class of Courtesan, I would love to try the real thing. But from the little that I had experienced, I expected that she would do for me. Suliman wanted to keep her another year at least, but agreed that her training could be interrupted for a while. Supposedly she was on the way.
I had received a massive offer for Coco thru Tarkan, but so far it didn't tempt me.
Teema was an excellent teacher. How many dudes are fortunate enough to receive language lessons from a beautiful, raven haired vixen, who walked around all day wearing nothing but a tittie support halter? By now, I had a fairly good command of both languages - I wouldn't pass for a native by a long shot, but unless the conversation was about some highly technical subject, like programming, I could chat with no problems.
I walked upstairs to check on my current client, Mrs. B. She had developed a movie fetish. She had been intensely searching the almost hundred year output of Hollywood for situations that heroines got themselves into. The only reason that she wasn't hauled off into the wilds of the Ozarks by a giant gorilla, is because I didn't know where to rent one. Her latest episode was one in which she was stretched out vertically in a spider's web made of rope. She actually brought me a clip of the Grade B jungle movie that she found it in.
So I made the web, hoisted her up into it, and every place that a strand of the web crossed a part of her body, she was tied to it with smaller ropes - probably 30 or more. Of course, she was tightly gagged. She would have preferred some genuine natives to torture her, but I couldn't find any who were available. But, to alleviate the tedium as the hours went by, I would enter the room occasionally and try to take her mind off of her predicament. Usually with the whip. Possibly she might have preferred the tedium, but unfortunately she was unable to communicate her wishes to me while stuck in the spider's trap.
I looked at the clock. Because of the card she had drawn before her "capture", she still had 7 hours to go. I suspected that she would be glad when she was finally "rescued."
She had no idea how close she had come to now be living in a desert sheikdom. Fortunately for her, my last customer had been so taken with the idea of a famous movie star that he had no interest in an unknown woman, no matter how desirable. Finally, I fingered around down below for a while then left her hanging.
I wondered how often the actress (that I was beginning to think of as Madam X) left town on vacation or other reason. Then I told myself to stop it - enough already!
Teema and I had dinner in the dungeon that night. As Pancake turned away after serving I noticed several red whelps on her back. "Come back here," I demanded. She knelt at my chair. "Why are you wearing stripes on your back?"
With her head down, she replied, "The Mistress found a girl unsatisfactory, Master." I looked questionably at Teema.
"Twice she countermanded my instructions to Cupcake," she answered. "Then she talked back to me when I tried to ask her about it."
'Hmmmm," I said. Then called, "Coco! Chocolate!" I motioned them over to our table, then pointed to Pancake. "Take this bitch and string her up at the whipping posts. Tight!"
Pancake fell forward and put her head on the floor. "Mercy, Master. A girl is very sorry."
Smiling, the two girls grabbed an arm each and frog marched Pancake to the twin posts, hooked up the chains, then pulled to tighten them until her feet left the floor.
We went back to eating, with Cupcake now in the serving roll. I was relating to Teema the sights and pleasures that I had found at the courtesan training center in Turkey. She was interested and continued to ask me to expand on what I had seen. Finally, I told her about the trip to the desert and the trade that I had made with Suliman.
Once dinner was over, I walked over to where Pancake was hanging. "Why did you disobey a free person," I demanded.
Pancake was considerably thinner than the day she came into the cave as a fairly chubby swell, but she was in no way a skinny female. By now her weight on her arms and wrists was beginning to reach the very painful level. "A girl didn't mean to, Master. A girl is very sorry. A girl will-
"I didn't ask you how you felt about the matter," I interrupted harshly. "I want to know why acted as you did."
She looked up at her straining wrists, futilely trying to shift her weight to relieve some of the pain. "A girl thought that Cupcake needed more instruction, Master. A girl will never never let it happen again."
I stepped behind her and selected a leather strap. "Good," I replied. "I'm glad that a cunt has recognized her mistake." I reached around with my left hand and bobbled a tittie for a few seconds. "This should help you to remember." With that I stepped back and laid the leather across the broad stretch of her upper back. For the next few minutes the cave rang with the screams of the tormented female. Finally, leaving her limp and hanging, I dropped the whip on the table and walked back to my office area. I had just thought of an idea that needed some input about Ms. X.
A delivery truck arrived a few mornings later, and deposited a crate in my garage. Inside was my long away Stephanie, unconscious. I dollied the crate into the house. Teema was looking into the box with interest. "So this is the woman who got you started." Together we pushed the crate on its side and the limp woman sort of flowed halfway out. I pulled her out onto the carpet, and waited for Teema to lock a collar and bracelets on her. Then I threw her over my shoulder and carried her upstairs to my bedroom. Shortly, a chain was attached to her new collar and we left her sleeping on the bed.
I drove over the state line to the Fixer's new office. "Nice," I commented as I walked across the ankle deep carpet to his massive rosewood desk. "I have to think that business is good."
He was in an excellent mood. "Well, it could be better, but I'll try not to complain too much. How is your- latest acquisition?"
"Already gone. I told you I didn't want her for pussy. She was a trading card for something else." I accepted a drink from his extensive bar. "That is why I'm here. I need another like her." We sat down and he waited. "This next one I have no idea how to acquire. I'm not even in the early planning stages, yet. All I need now is data." I handed a picture to him.
The reaction didn't take long. "God almighty damn! Son of a bitch!" He looked up at me with a slightly stunned expression. "Man, when you decide to do something, you don't just fuck around, do you?"
"Relax," I said. "This is a long way from an operation. There is an excellent chance that there may be no way to do it in reasonable safety. For now, I just need a scout. A very discreet one." I pushed an envelope across the desk. "These are some of the questions I want answered, and anything else that he can find out. Anything and everything," I emphasized. "If she loves green ice cream, I want that data. If some acquaintance hints that she hates white toilet paper, write it down. Who do you have?"
He sat back in his executive chair, steepled his fingers and thought for a moment. "This is going to take a professional weasel. Harry Ballard would be the best, but he's doing a nickel for a blown scam - not his fault, just bad luck. Stigger would be good in the east, but with his accent he would stick out on the west coast like a sardine in a punch bowl. Probably one of the Simpson brothers or maybe Doggert." He leaned forward. "I'll see who's available."
I reached down and picked up a small brief case and pushed it over to him. "Get someone started - whoever you think is best. Let me know when this runs out." He popped it open and looked at the stacks of hundred dollar bills for a few seconds, then set it under his desk.
He shook his head. "If I had known years ago that pussy was this valuable, I would have never started bookmaking."
I assumed that by the time I got back Stephanie would be awake. Teema and I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, and while I waited inconspicuously in the hall, she entered to check. She was awake. Stephanie immediately dropped to her knees, holding her hands on her thighs, and with her head bowed. Teema walked to the front of the kneeling girl and stood looking for a few seconds. Then she said, "Look at me, slave." Stephanie immediately looked up. "My name is Teema. You will call me Mistress. I am the ward of your Master." I slowly stepped into the room and moved to a position behind the slave girl as the instructions continued.
"Your Master has spent a small fortune on your training, and I hope it wasn't wasted. Forget the casual acquaintance that you enjoyed with him in your former life. Right now, your only value is in the pleasure that you can give him. Remember this, above all else." She - Teema - looked at me and I realized that she was really enjoying herself. "The moment that you cease to please him, you will be shipped right back to the slave pens that you started in, and you will be sold. And with your age, the best you can hope for is a camel breeder or a shop keeper of trinkets. You won't be sleeping in a warm bed under clean sheets."
She patted the side of Stephanie's cheek with the crop. "Any transgression of your proper actions, and I will handle your punishment. And, since I am a woman, I know how to make another female hurt much more than any man ever could." I tried to keep from smiling, even though Stephanie couldn't see me. This little girl was really coming across like a dominatrix. And, I knew that the only punishment that she had ever handed out, besides some love taps on Cupcake, was a fairly mild whipping of Pancake.
She pointed to the bathroom. "Now, get in the water closet and prepare yourself to service your Master, and hope that he finds you satisfactory." Stephanie immediately jumped to her feet, and dragging her neck chain behind her, ran into the bathroom and immediately started the water.
We both left her for downstairs. When well out of earshot, I complimented her. "All you need is some tight black leather clothes and a whip and you can have all the submissive men you want. That was quite a performance."
Back in the cave at my desk, I sat thinking about the thing that I kept trying to keep myself from thinking about. How do you abduct a female who is rich, famous and lives behind layers of probably very mean guards? I had no idea. Teema knew what I was doing, and left me alone. I knew that she had something on her mind, but I was willing to wait until it formed up enough to tell me.
That evening it was time to see what all that money had bought. Stephanie had been fed well with a meal bought up by Teema, and was kneeling on a thick rug at the foot of my bed. I stood in the doorway and looked at the woman who got me started as a successful businessman and now a multimillionaire. She was beautiful, kneeling on the rug, hands on her thighs, head bowed with her now long hair tied in a ponytail with a piece of green silk.
I climbed on the huge bed, lay down in the middle and said, "Now, slave. Come and pleasure me." The session can't be described, only experienced. Unlike a normal American girl who would have immediately jumped on the bed, sucked on my cock for a few moments, then shoved it in her twat, that didn't happen. Instead, Stephanie slowly got to her feet, walked around the bed and deliberately climbed on to the mattress and scooted up to my side. Raising up on her knees, she spread her legs and reached down with three fingers of one hand, used the two outside fingers to spread her lips and the middle to stroke up and down her exposed crack. Just for a few seconds. Then back down on her haunches, she reached out and lightly moved the same hand up and down my midriff. A finger traced a line lower, toward my cock, then missed it as the touch continued down the side of my ball sack, under it and up the other side. Meanwhile her other hand started to trace lines around my neck up up around my ears. As I concentrated on what she was trying to do up there, all the while watching her beautiful titties sway back and forth, a finger and thumb lightly grabbed hold of the skin between my balls and asshole and pinched. Then the finger traced around my hole, lightly and without touching the ass star itself.
At this point she hadn't even touched any sexual part of my body and I was rock hard and rutting already. Her technique was to get my attention on some mild action with one hand and then suddenly touch, pull or pinch in an unexpected location. She reached up and pulled on the top of my ear to stretch it fairly hard. Then the other - it actually felt pretty good, like a session with a massage therapist. Suddenly, a fingernail traced the seam of my ball sac, from the bottom and up the underside of my cock, then stopped at the sensitive area just south of the head, and stroked it firmly with the edge of her nail. At this point, it was all I could to to keep from rolling her over and jamming my rod into her.
After a few seconds of this, she slowly leaned over and dragged her tongue over a nipple. I suddenly realized that she still had the tongue piercing installed. My nipples are no more sensitive than any other man's, but this got my attention. Then the other one. Suddenly I stiffened as a finger began to circle my asshole, almost but never quite entering. As my attention moved to that new location, her head began to move south and the sensation that I had only felt once before came back as she pushed the lower part of her piercing into my peehole and moved her tongue in a orbiting circle, all the while using her teeth to do something with the head. I could see my nuts almost totally withdrawn into my body and knew that I was going to shoot big time in just a few seconds.
Then she stopped, sat back and looked off into the distance, as her hands absently massaged her breasts and nipples. As the danger of blowing cum all over my chest passed, she again lightly ran her fingers at random up and down my body. Once she saw that my nuts had dropped back out of the cocked position, she shifted around, and leaned over my legs. More delicate tracing with her fingernails on my legs. Legs on a man are not erotic - the idea is ridiculous. But my nervous system didn't know that. The touch was absolutely unique and- and- God, she must have been made to study nerve endings and pressure points in detail. She knew every one of them. As she got to my feet, she bent over and started on my toes with her tongue piercing, and just casually moved her knees apart so that I could look up her cunt. My legs were quivering with the stimulation.
So much for your threat, Teema. Hell would freeze over before I sold this woman to anyone. I had been laying there for just a few minutes and would now have gladly fucked a knothole. And she done very little yet that could have been called erotic. If she ever gets around to fucking, I may not survive the night, I thought.
A hand came back, did a three finger spread on her pussy, and a few strokes up and down the inside again. Just for a few seconds. I was about to blow again.
She stopped her action on my feet, slowly straightened up, swung back around and again began tracing my body again as my nuts slowly began to return downward. Then, for the first time, she looked me in the eyes, brought her hand to her pussy, inserted the middle finger in and stirred it around. I assumed that it was for the visual effect again, which was ungodly erotic, but it was actually to get it lubed. She slowly bent over my midriff, then suddenly took my cock all the way into her throat, and at the same time immediately inserted her lubed finger in my ass, and began to vigorously massage my prostate. It was like suddenly being hit with an electric prod - but one that had been ordered from a website in heaven. In milliseconds I erupted, thrashing my body in all directions as I pumped the load into her throat. She withdrew to just where her lips covered the head, then with her free hand began to jack my dong to get the maximum feeling during the orgasm.
Then I just fell back, exhausted, soaking wet and limp. I had blown so hard that my nuts were actually aching. I looked at Stephanie beside me - she had resumed her waiting position of kneeling with her hands on her thighs and her head bowed. This was the woman whose knowledge of sex when I had first met her, consisted entirely of laying on her back with her legs spread so her husband could get off.
"That was very good, slavegirl," I commented.
"'Ank you, Math'her. A girl is pweased." The piercing in the tongue was causing her to lisp. I got up for a bathroom break, and when I returned she had resumed her position on the rug.
"A girl will stay in this room for now. She may use the bathroom and sleep whenever she wants. Understood?"
I stripped the wet sheets off the bed, got two others and spread them out - not making the bed, just laying them over it. I lay down and said, "Come here and lay down, slavegirl."
Again, "Yesss Math'her." She lay down beside me, I turned her over facing away, turned out the light and began to explore her long absent body, from her full titties and down to her crack and holes. It had been a long time and I had missed her. She still felt wonderful, even with my empty and aching nuts and no pressure to have her at the moment.
The next morning, I ordered breakfast for Stephanie and asked Teema if I could borrow Cupcake for the morning. Stephanie's residing in my upstairs bedroom was only temporary, but I needed to decide just how and when I wanted to take her into the dungeon. She had never been there before because there was always in the back of my mind that I might have a reason to free her for a while. That reason was gone - she was now as permanent a slave as any that I ever had.
Cupcake came up to me holding a tray of food. I picked up a long collar chain then ordered her to follow me upstairs. I had her wait outside and around the corner, took the tray of food, entered my bedroom and set it on the dresser. Stephanie was in her holding position on the rug and I ordered her into the bathroom and told her to wait. I called Cupcake in and sat her on my bed, connecting the chain that I had brought to her collar and to the same ring that the new slavegirl was hooked to. She was definitely puzzled as to what was going on.
Then into the bathroom where I told Stephanie, "Your breakfast is on the dresser. Until I come back after a while, you may talk and act normally." I turned and exited to the hall, where I paused for a moment to listen.
First there was a gasp - from which one I don't know - then a loud "AUNTIE!," a rattle of chains and then nothing but two women sobbing and trying to talk at the same time. I left them to reunite and headed back to the dungeon.
A huge packet arrived by special courier. It was from the scout in California. He had taken my instructions to heart - there was a detailed day by day description of Madam X's doings and goings. I studied it for hours, but absolutely nothing was that that suggested any way to successfully gather her in. I gave orders to continue the surveillance with a bonus if he came up with something that I could use.
Mrs N came for a session for two days. That in itself was a problem. I was so smitten with Stephanie that I almost couldn't get it up for my client. I put the butterfly and anus vibrators on her and ran them on low for hours as she desperately tried to come as she hung in chains, but couldn't until the end of the day when I turned them up to full. As she was reaching her climax, I took her from behind, pumped away and simulated an orgasm on my part. But she was so consumed with her own, that there was no danger of her realizing that my act was phony.
That evening, I took Stephanie into the dungeon for the first time. I assumed that she was awed like everyone else when she first saw it, but her training kept her from expressing anything at all. I chained her to my dungeon bed and put a thick rug at the foot for her to kneel on. Calling Pancake over, I informed her that this was my personal slave, and she was not to be disciplined by anyone but me. And that she was damned sure not to be touched by anyone else. That night I closed the privacy curtains that had seldom ever been used, laid down and let her work on me again. This time she did an entire repertoire of different actions for an hour before she laid back and I entered her, by now almost blind with lust. Once again, my load came out with a force that totally precluded any further sex that night - there wasn't a drop of cum left in my body.
The next morning, both Teema and Cupcake asked to be allowed to talk with the new girl. I assumed that Cupcake just wanted to continue to converse with her aunt, but had no idea what Teema's interest was.
While they were talking, I sat at my desk and went over the intelligence packet once again.
Several days went by. Stephanie continued to just kneel all day on her rug unless she was eating or doing bodily maintenance - or working on my body. I had realized that this girl was like a very rich, very expensive box of candy from an exclusive chocolatier - as wonderful as it tasted, continual gorging on it would soon bring me to the point of not being able to stand the taste. I would ration my use of her to once a week. Meanwhile, she couldn't just spend her days kneeling on a rug. For one thing, the lack of physical exercise was bad, and for another the lack of exercise for her mind would be just as debilitating.
I had Teema inform her that, unless I was nearby, she could talk to and mingle with the other occupants of the cave. She would only kneel on her rug in the evenings when I was getting ready for bed, until I indicated that I did or didn't want her that night. After that, unless Cupcake was engaged in service to Teema, the two women would sit and talk for hours. Eventually, Pancake joined them on occasion for a girly talk session. But as soon as I approached, the new girl would immediately drop to her passive stance and kneel there as long as I was near. I wondered just what the training that she had received actually consisted of. They had taken a upscale, self assured, strong willed woman and had completely replaced her personality to become totally pliant and submissive.
Teema, I noticed, would send the other girls away, and, with Stephanie kneeling before her, converse with the slave for long periods of time. Interesting.
More information came from the west coast. Again, I went through it with a fine toothed comb and came up with nothing. She went to work, made a picture or two, went to upscale parties, flew to Europe a few times, was learning to fly for some reason, and generally acted like a rich movie star. One thing she didn't do, was go anywhere alone.
I could tell that something was on Teema's mind and almost asked her a few times, but decided to wait till she wanted to fill me in.
Mrs T. scheduled for another session. She still hadn't made the decision to become a full timer, so the branding iron was still out. As I opened her reservation email, I wondered what it would be this time - burning at the stake? Buried alive? Nailed into a box and then have spikes driven into it? She had a desire for punishment that was just barely this side of a death wish. Nope, just a normal session, for her, of horrendously painful bondage and whipping.
Even though I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about Madam X. I thought up and rejected one ridiculous plan after another. Some where barely feasible, some were science fiction.
She flew to Europe on occasion. If I had the plane hijacked, she would be out of range of her normal bodyguards. It wasn't a totally impossible idea. I knew that, despite all the bullshit coming out of the security bureaucracy, any plane can be hijacked whenever someone or some organization wants to make the effort. All of the metal detectors, scanners, no fly lists and the myriad other aspects of the so called security that made flying by air today to be an excruciatingly horrible experience would have no effect on a real set of perpetrators.
But, once the plane was taken, then what? If it was a Hollywood thriller, no problem - just find a deserted Carribean island with an old airstrip long enough to take an intercontinental jetliner. The problem is - there aren't any. Any tropical island big enough for even a helicopter pad, has at the very least a billionaire mansion in the middle of it.
Ok, fly it back into the country at a low enough level to avoid radar. Very unlikely - the hijackers would probably find an escort of fighters alongside before they even approached land. Besides, the sight of a massive jetliner flying low over the countryside was going to have the 911 lines lit up like Christmas tree lights.
Fly it to some other country? Still the problem of those pesky fighters.
Anyway, that operation would totally fly in the face of my idea of low level, almost unnoticeable operations. Every crime unit in the world would be working balls to the wall to find out who took a planeload of people on an unscheduled intercontinental jaunt.
Teema approached me one morning and asked for a talk. Ah ha, I thought. Now I find out where her female mind has been playing in the last month or so.
She sat down, looked around apparently marshaling her thoughts. Finally, she started. "May I ask if the training that you sent Stephanie to, was satisfactory in your opinion."
What the hell was this leading to? "Teema, you are a female and there is no way that I can explain to a woman the significance of that training. But believe me when I say that I have had sex with many women - beautiful women, plain women, skilled women, all kinds - but Stephanie's level of expertise is so far above that of any other woman that I have had- Well, let me just say that after her, the idea of having an ordinary women is sometimes almost repugnant."
"So you consider her to be an expert, now," she asked.
I shook my head. "Far, far beyond expert. Chocolate is a natural expert. She is an absolute delight in bed, and before Stephanie came back, I considered her to be the best I ever had. But even she doesn't approach Stephanie's training - by far." I waited. She seemed to be mulling things over.
She began again. "Have you ever thought of, well, offering a training service like Stephanie went to?
"How?" I asked. "And why?" I was trying to figure out where she was going with this. "I have no idea of the training that she got, much less how to give it. Besides, why would I do it? Not for the money, certainly."
"You have told me that you are wanting to get out of the rich female business, as you call it. This would be one that is different, and new. It would be for submissive women, yes, but not necessarily for bondage and torture." She stopped and waited for response.
"Men would bring their wives or girlfriends to be trained like Stephanie. It would be expensive. Besides, if you stop with the bondage business are you just going to retire? I don't see you doing that at your age."
I was amused at her idea of a new sex service business. It was ridiculous, but at least this was a girl who was thinking of the future, not just sitting around watching TV, eating bonbons and waiting for her inheritance. "I'll tell you what. Make me a detailed business plan on hows, wheres and whys of what you are thinking about, and I will consider it." Very unlikely, but nothing would be hurt for her to dream.
Mrs T had been bent over a rack for hours, with her arms pulled up behind her almost to her collar. Her head was in the stocks at the end of it and she had a maximum gag under a tightly laced up leather whole head mask. Of course, her legs were spread out at the maximum width and I had inserted a fairly large ass spreader. Her waist was encircled with a steel strap holding her midriff tightly to the rack. She couldn't even wiggle or make a sound, no matter how much punishment she was given.
I asked Teema if she wanted to see a real bondage session and she jumped at the chance. I warned her that it was not play - especially with this woman. As she inspected the bound woman, I could tell that her previous idea of bondage and discipline games was way off of what she was seeing. I selected a wide leather strap from my vast collection, stepped up beside Mrs T, and with all my strength, laid it across her back. At the loud crack of the impact, Teema jumped back with wide opened eyes, then looked back and forth from me to the red stripe on the captive's back. She gulped, but knew not to say anything, although the bound woman would have been unable to hear anything below a shout. Five more lashes followed, at thirty second intervals, but all that the victim could do to indicate pain was to clinch and unclinch her fists.
As we left the woman to her pain, Teema was breathing hard and still had wide open eyes. As we entered the passageway down, she finally said, "I don't- I didn't know- I had no idea that your games were so- so- violent."
"Actually," I answered, "very few are that severe. Some women just get tied up, and some ask for a little stinging from a whip - no more than they would give a misbehaving child." I shook my head. "She's a special case - very unusual." I went on to give Teema some history on Mrs T and her almost psychotic desires for pain.
Teema shook her head. "She actually wanted you to hang her? By the neck? For real?" She gave an exclamation that I didn't recognize, even though we were both speaking Arabic - in fact, we seldom spoke English unless we were talking to one of the other occupants of the cave. "I am- I mean-" She stopped for a second. "I have a habit of considering myself to be a woman of the world - I need to remember that I am just a young ignorant female who has traveled a lot."
Pudgy had long since stabilized her weight - at least, she didn't visibly gain any more. Except that her eyes seemed to indicate intelligence, I really didn't know if she was still home, or if just her body was left as a huge fleshy blob, used every day by Coco and on occasion by the boy. I had ceased to use her - her external sexual parts where so expanded that my dong was not long enough to even enter her slit far enough to get much stimulation.
The boy's nuts had pretty well stopped stretching. The rate of stretching had slowed in proportion to the distance that his balls were above the level of his knees. But he had the longest pair of any that I could find on the Internet.
Pancake, Cupcake and Stephanie had sort of a girls' day out talk session most every day. On occasion, Coco or Chocolae would join in, but their limited experience in life left them with little to talk about, and much of what was conversed about by the other girls went completely over their heads. On occasion, with my permission, the four original girls would have a foursome that they thoroughly enjoyed. Of course, Stephanie was not allowed to participate.
I never saw Teema use either Coco or the boy. I wasn't sure if she was totally gay, or just didn't find them attractive. She did avail herself of her bondmaid, Cupcake. Many was the night when I saw my big boobed slave busy with her tongue between Teema's legs. On occasion, they went the other way, also.
Madam X had a chalet in Europe that she visited several times a year. I spent some money having that reconnoitered, but it was obvious that due to the paparazzi, who were even more obtrusive and obnoxious over there than here, the odds of finding her in a vulnerable situation were just about zero.
Teema was ready to present her business plan. I assumed that she would build a PowerPoint presentation, but instead, she had an old fashioned set of big flip sheets, and a white board. She asked permission to have Stephanie standing by to answer actual questions. I said yes, and she was kneeling close to us in the usual head bowed, hands on thighs position that she assumed every night at bed time.
I sat down at my desk and got comfortable. I waved my open hand at her. "You have the floor."
She flipped the blank page up and over, which displayed a chart. "Ok. In a nutshell, this would be a place where a man would bring a woman to be trained in the art of sex. As we discussed before, it could be either boyfriends or husbands. But it also occurred to me, that a single woman could- uh- enroll herself for the same training." I nodded. I hadn't thought of that. "The entry to this school would be totally voluntary - that is, no 'student' would be accepted against her will. However, once the training has started, she would no longer have the option of quitting. For protection against future problems, both of the partners would be vidoed agreeing to the specific training."
She stopped. "So far so good," I said. "Keep going." I could see several potential stumbling blocks, but I would let her either see or overlook them.
"The facilities wouldn't have to be large, but since it would hold a certain number of women for a considerably amount of time, it would have to be run somewhat like a hotel. The girls themselves could be used for cleaning - probably as a punishment exercise - but a kitchen and a staff would be required. As would some security. A certain number of young men would need to be hired, or procured in some way, as training objects. Some female trainers would have to be trained also."
She talked and showed drawings of her idea of a business center for sex. About an hour later she was wrapping up.
She was doing fine so far. I didn't see any major flaws in her reasoning. I put in my two cents worth. "It would have to be a secret location. With my business, only one person is involved and only that person knows what she is doing. But with this, there are two people who are in on it. And after a few weeks, the husband or boyfriend is going to be ungodly horny, and is going to want to visit his significant other for a piece of ass." I thought that over for a few seconds. "Driving wouldn't work - anybody could eventually work their way back. Are you going to fly them there in a small plane? To a location with no roads?" I shook my head. "This would have the Achilles heel like my current setup. Since everybody is a willing participant, it isn't exactly illegal, but the instant that it becomes known to the public, you are out of business." Something was trying to trigger in the back of my mind, but it just wouldn't come to the surface.
She pointed to an item on one of her charts. "My idea was for it to be overseas - some third world country where it could be totally inaccessible by the other party." She pulled out a world map and pointed. "Maybe here, or here, or maybe here."
I had two trains of thought going, and they just wouldn't share the same track. I heard her reply, but was still trying to listen to the rumbling the background of my mind. I shifted back to the present. "You haven't explained just how get a person who knows the training procedure. Hire them away from Suliman?"
She looked at me for a long moment. "No, I plan to have you contract to have me trained at the same place. When I came back, I would know exactly-" she tailed off at my sudden expression, of- something!
"SAY WHAT!?" In English this time. I saw the others across the dungeon look around in alarm at my sudden shout. "Do you have any idea of what you are saying?" I didn't know whether to yell, stomp away, shit or go blind. "Do you realize that any girl that goes in that place, will use and be used by multiple men every day? And in every possible way? Including some that I bet you don't even know exist?"
"Yes, I know what Step-" She stopped as I steamed on.
"Your Uncle asked me, on my honor and in the bonds of friendship, to take you under my protection. I would be repaying his trust in a very poor way if I sent his niece to a sex factory. Forget it. No!"
"Please. Just let me tell-"
"No! Conversation over. It ain't gonna happen." I got up and walked away, still in shock. I decided to go upstairs and watch TV or something till I calmed down. I got about halfway to the passageway when, for the second time in my life, the lightbulb above my head turned on to blinding intensity." I stopped, frozen in place, furiously thinking of some item that was in one of the intel packets on my desk.
Next- What goes up always comes down.
But not always in the same place...
End of Book 5
Copyright© 2011 by Morlock. All rights reserved.