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Song of the Clarinet ch 3 [Mf, nc, bdsm]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
THE STORY BELOW CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING SUBJECTS:
VIOLENCE, NON-CONSENTUAL SEX, RAPE, TORTURE,
BONDAGE / DOMINATION
(Mf, violence, nc, rape, torture, b/d)
IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THESE SUBJECTS, PLEASE DO
NOT READ.
IF YOU ARE UNDER 21, PLEASE DO NOT READ.
IF YOU MIGHT FLAME ME AFTER READING THIS, PLEASE
DO NOT READ.
THE REST OF YOU - ENJOY.
COMMENTS AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISMS ARE
WELCOMED.
(Please post to alt.sex.stories.d, with subject
as title of the story or e-mail to me at
[email protected])
Note 1 Dedications
Thanks to all those who wrote and posted on the
alt.sex.stories newsgroup. In addition, this
story is very much a product of the inspiration
from the GOR novels by John Norman
Note 2 Copyrights
The story below is copyright by the author. You
may freely distribute the text electronically,
as long as you include the disclaimer, the by-
line, the title, and the notes. All
similarities between the contents of the text
and real life people are coincidental. The
author in no ways condones the contents of the
text - such things are illegal and would get you
in serious trouble if you attempt it - SO DON'T.
Note 3 Abbreviated Foreward
The story is set in the near future. It is
about an innocent young woman being abducted and
abused. Some portions of the story are
extremely brutal and sadistic. The story starts
slow so if you are looking for instant
gratification, this may not be for you.
Song of the Clarinet
by Aquilifer
Chapter 3 The Wedding
Three weeks ago, Cristy woke up in a
hospital bed with a roomful of machines attached
to her body. Her severe blood loss had damaged
many organs and muscles in her body. She had
been so weak that she did not even have the
strength to eat, but needed nutrients inject
directly into her body. Upon gaining
consciousness, Cristy became frightened as she
immediately realized that her captors would take
terrible measures in response to her attempted
suicide - it was merely a matter of time.
When Cristy returned to her master's home,
after a long stay in the hospital, her old
keepers had been replaced. Cristy soon found
out that her new keepers were true sadists, who
enjoyed using the goad on her. Every day,
before her evening bath, Cristy's keepers
torture and humiliate her in a "play session".
The only rule of the "play session" is that the
keepers cannot permanently mark Cristy in any
fashion and cannot instruct Cristy in any sexual
matters. Beyond that, the keepers could do with
Cristy as they please. The new keepers'
perversions seem endless, and they delight in
finding a new way to abuse and degrade their
beautiful charge.
Security became tighter around Cristy.
She was never left alone. Everywhere she went,
including the rest room and her various lessons,
her two new keepers followed. She no longer
slept with her master; indeed, Cristy had not
seen her master, Donatien, since the day of her
attempted suicide. Now she slept in a small
room assigned to her, chained to the bed, with
guards watching her during the night on shifts.
Immediately after she had left the
hospital, Cristy began a slow and painful
convalescence. She was in physical therapy,
having to re-build and re-learn the muscles in
her legs and arms. Despite her loneliness and
the hostile surroundings, Cristy's health
improved. In a few months Cristy felt
completely recovered, and was surprised that
there aren't even scars on her wrists to remind
her of her attempt at suicide.
As her strength increased, Cristy, though
unwilling to admit it consciously, began to
adapt to her life as a slave. She learned how
to endure the humiliation and degradation. She
learned to obey and please her captors. She
still is terrified of being beaten, but as she
improved as a slave, she was beaten less often.
In addition, despite the revulsion of her
mind at her status as a sex toy, her body became
more responsive and sensitive. Her keepers
taunted her that she is "an easy girl and a
natural slut." The slightest touch at the right
places could make her weak at the knees and
trembling with passion. At times, she felt so
possessed by her desire that she dreamed of
being raped and beaten again by her master, but
her mind chastised her at such thoughts.
Her progress pleased her captors, and
Cristy was rewarded. She was given the
permission to wear cloths, but she still had to
strip on command. Cristy was overjoyed when
they allowed her a wardrobe in her quarters.
She could even pick out some of her cloth by
shopping with a computer.
Her captors also hired a retired professor
to instruct her in her favorite subject - music
composition. She pleaded for, and received,
voice training as well as lessons in playing the
cello. She was even allowed a little bit of
time every week to browse through the vast paper
and electronic library of her master. Of
course, her lessons in ballet, modern dancing,
and the clarinet continued. The various lessons
filled her days; for the first time since her
abduction, Cristy actually felt content. Even
the guards and her keepers dutifully reported
that the young woman had grace them with her
lovely smile on occasions.
Then, she met Donatien again.
Her first sign that the day was to be
unusual was when Horoun arrived in her quarters
in the morning. Cristy had just finished her
morning bath and was drying her hair when Horoun
entered her quarters. As her quarters were
small and there were already two keepers and
guards with her, Horoun left his own guards
outside the room and gestured for the two
keepers to leave.
"Take you cloth off," Horoun commanded.
Cristy obeyed, removing her bathrobe,
standing nude before the dark-skinned Iranian.
Horoun smiled at the sight of her naked
body, "You are lovely, slave, even more
beautiful than when you first arrived. Those
dancing lessons have done wonders in refining
the exquisite curves of your body."
Cristy lowered her eyes and whispered,
"Thank you, sir."
Horoun produced a long leather strap.
Cristy shivered, frightened that Horoun has
decided to beat her. "Turn around," Horoun
commanded.
Cristy obeyed. Instead of hitting her
with the strap, however, Horoun tied the strap
around her waist. Cristy winced slightly as
Horoun tightened the strap. "Cross your wrists
behind your back," Horoun commanded.
Cristy obeyed and felt Horoun grabbing her
slender wrists and tying them with remaining
length of the strap. When Horoun finished,
Cristy's hands are tightly secured behind her
back. Horoun then went to Cristy's closet and
picked out a gray windbreaker. Wrapping the
windbreaker around Cristy, he buttoned it up and
tightened its belt. Finally, Horoun produced a
blindfold from his pocket and secure it over
Cristy's eyes.
"She's ready," Horoun said, "let's go."
They took her for a ride on a hover-
copter. The ride was long and bumpy; Cristy was
dizzy with motion sickness when the hover-copter
finally landed. She was glad that she has not
had any breakfast. They led Cristy out of the
hover-copter as the whining of the hover-
copter's engine quiets down.
As someone untied her blindfold and
removed it, Cristy saw that she was standing in
a clearing within a forest. She turned around
and saw her master, Donatien, standing on the
other side of the clearing.
Donatien was wearing an iron-gray double-
breast suit. As he walked toward her, across
the clearing, Cristy feels weak. She was in awe
and terror of the man and her body trembled. He
kissed her on the cheek and whispered,
"Greetings, little slave, did you miss me?"
Cristy's thoughts were that she should
hate him for all he had done to her, but her
body revolted against her mind. The kiss
aroused her; she felt hot and she was suddenly
aware of her nudity beneath the windbreaker.
She leaned on his strong body, tears welled up
in her eyes, and she whispered, "Yes, master,
Cristy missed you."
Donatien smiled. His voice was calm as he
spoke, "Come, everyone, I wish you all to
witness something."
They walked across the clearing into the
forest and found a group of four guards keeping
watch over two prisoners. Cristy gasped as she
recognized the prisoners, as they were her
keepers before her attempted suicide. They
looked terrified, not at all the arrogant and
abusive eunuchs whom Cristy had remembered.
Despite what she had suffered from the two, she
felt pity for them.
Donatien started speaking, "With the
exception of this slave, all of you know these
two men have wronged me grievously. I had
entrusted them with this slave, but their
negligence had nearly resulted in her suicide.
When they realized that they have neglected my
trust, instead of asking me for forgiveness,
they added to their crime."
"They stole money and information from me
before they left the Marquis Tower. They then
attempted to sell the information to my enemies
in return for protection. The information they
sold had cost me dearly, forcing me to spend the
last few months traveling over the entire globe,
repairing the damages they had done."
"Now, you all shall witness my vengeance."
Donatien gestured and one of the guards
handed him a pistol. It was a caseless .22 made
for target shoting with a custom grip. Donatien
pointed the gun at one of the ex-keeper's head
and calmly squeezed off two rounds. Blood and
bone splayed as the bullets entered the man's
forehead.
Without pausing, Donatien turned and aimed
again. He squeezed off another two rounds, this
time into the second ex-keeper's right knee.
The ex-keeper screamed as blood spurted from his
knee. Donatien handed the pistol back to his
guard and walked to Cristy.
Cristy was nauseated. She leaned tightly
on Donatien, burying her face into his chest,
wanting to forget the bloody scene before her.
Donatien whispered to her, gesturing at the ex-
keeper who is still alive, "He's the one who was
nearest to you when you darted into the rest
room. He's also the one who had dared to sell
my secrets. Listen and watch how I punish him,
little slave."
Donatien then turned to one of the guards,
"Otis, I want you to put two bullets each, into
his left shoulder, his right shoulder, his left
hip, and his right hip."
"Yes, sir," the guard drew his gun, a
caseless nine-millimeter with a silencer.
Donatien held Cristy in his arms, forcing the
young woman to watch. The young woman cringed
as the guards fired eight shots as directed by
Donatien, Cristy's former keeper screamed and
cursed. His language was vicious, foul, and
extremely descriptive of Donatien's ancestry.
Donatien ignored the man's screams of pain
and his language. He kissed Cristy's ear and
asked her, "Do you know what is the favorite
food of ants?" Cristy was scared by the
violence she saw and had barely heard her
master's question. She shook her head, "No,
master, Cristy do not know."
Donatien removed a sealed jar from the
pocket of his suit, "Ants love a substance known
as honeydew, produced by insects called aphids."
He heaved the small jar, "This is a jar of
concentrated honeydew extract. Since, we will
be leaving shortly, I think our noisy friend
here might need a little company. Of course,
once the ants get here, they may decide to use
our noisy friend here as a meal, one tiny insect
bite at a time..."
Cristy watched in horror as Donatien
walked up to the bleeding body and poured the
contents of the jar all over the ex-keeper
before throwing the jar away. Donatien then
turned around and smiled, "Now, shall we go, or
does my darling little slave want to watch the
ants have their meal?"
Cristy vomited and sank to her knees on
the ground.
After the horror show in the morning,
Donatien had taken her, with the rest of their
entourage, to a small lake beyond the forest.
There, in the golden glow of the warm morning
sun, they had a picnic, with Cristy feeding out
of her master's hand.
After the picnic, they had retreated
beneath a tree. Donatien had laid down and
commanded Cristy to join him. Cristy snuggled
up to him. She felt contented to have her
master's arm around her despite the fact that
her mind is revolted by her shameless behavior.
They did nothing most of the day, letting the
lazy hours drift by. It was different from
Cristy's normally hectic day, filled with
lessons. Cristy enjoyed the break from her
usual routine.
Cristy vomited again, feeling dizzy and
sick.
It is now afternoon and her master had
taken her back to where her former keeper is
dying. What had once been a human figure was
now covered with crawling ants. The mere sight
of the thousands of moving insects over the
human form made her sick.
Donatien saw Cristy's reaction and laughed
as did the others. "I doubt this fool has
single patch of skin left that's intact," Horoun
commented. Turning to Donatien, Horoun laughed,
"Now I know why I work for you. I could never
come up with something like this. Had you been
an Arab, you would have made an impressive
warrior of the jihad, a figure feared by all."
Even with her eyes closed, the horrible
image was imprinted in her mind. Perhaps the
worst thing was the moaning. The moaning
reminded Cristy that what lay beneath that layer
of crawling ants is still alive and feeling the
pain. The mere thought of it revolts her and
she puked yet again. She tried to turn away,
but Donatien's hand restrained her. He forced
her to watch the ants carrying away small bits
of the dying figure, to hearing the terrible
moaning, and to smell the air tainted with the
stench of blood.
"Remember this well, my little slave,"
Donatien whispered to Cristy. "But if you
forget," he smiled, gesturing to the guard next
to him with a camcorder, "don't worry. I'll let
you watch our home-made video."
"Why did master force Cristy to watch?"
Cristy asked.
It was evening; Cristy and her master were
alone in the dungeon. Donatien sat in a chair,
sipping and savoring the taste of a goblet of
brandy. Cristy kneeled nude before him.
Donatien had just asked what his beautiful slave
thought of what she had witnessed today. Cristy
was given the permission to speak freely.
"There was a reason, wasn't there,
master?" Cristy inquired.
"Smart girl," Donatien laughed, "but there
were more than one reason. Would you like to
know them?"
"Yes, master," Cristy nodded.
"Very well. The first reason is that this
experience is meant as a warning for you, little
slave. Although recently you have become more
like a proper slave girl, I suspect that you
still harbor resentment in your mind. Well, the
next time you think of trying to escape, or to
commit suicide, or to show defiance in any
manner, remember how your keeper had died. I
promise you now, you will suffer worse than he."
Cristy was truly frightened. She could
tell from her master's voice that he was not
joking or making an idle threat. The image of
the swarm of ants emerged in her mind again and
she shivered. Trying to thrust the horrid image
from her mind, Cristy asked, "What are the other
reasons, master?"
"The second reason I won't tell you yet.
The third and last reason is that what you had
witnessed today is the last task I wanted to
accomplish before I punish you."
Cristy trembled, terrified, "Master,
please..."
Donatien cut her off, "Don't even try to
beg, little slave. Did you think your master
has forgotten your attempt at suicide? Did you
gloat in your secret heart that you had escape
punishment?"
Tears brimmed up in Cristy's beautiful
eyes as she whispered, her delicate voice
pleading, "No, master, Cristy..."
"Be silent, slave." Donatien shook his
head, "I wanted to hear no more from you. Come
here and stand right before me."
Cristy obeyed and stood nude right before
her master, remembering to cross her wrists
behind her back. Donatien reached for her body.
Cristy shivered slightly as she felt his cool
hands upon her skin. Slowly, he ran his hands
over her body, tracing every exquisite curve,
feeling the tender texture of her flawless skin.
Cristy felt aroused as her body flushed with
warmth.
She bit her lower lip and pressed her
knees closer together - she could already felt
the wetness between her legs. She moaned
softly, tears in her eyes, her mind reprimanding
her of her shameful behavior. Then her master's
hands moved up from her legs and touched her
breasts. She felt his hands grab her firm
breasts and her whole body shivered.
Her nipples hardened at his slightest
touch and Donatien noticed how Cristy trembled
with desire. Donatien rolled her nipples
between his fingers and heard the slave girl
moaning softly as tears streaked down the slave
girl's eyes. By now, Donatien realized that
Cristy's nipples are probably the most sensitive
erogenous zone of her body besides her nether
region. Donatien continued to tease the slave
girl's nipples, watching her tremble in tears,
quivering in shame and arousal.
Cristy's mind was torn between conflicting
emotions. The strict moral codes of her father
and the inhibitions of her background condemned
her body's obscene reactions. Her desire moaned
for Cristy to fall on here knees and beg the man
before her to ravish her. She was torn between
love and hate for the man before her. As her
arousal builds, involuntarily, she rubbed her
legs together - trying to relief the explosive
desire in her body.
Suddenly, without warning, Donatien
slapped the slave girl, sending her to the floor
sobbing. Donatien saw Cristy's stunned,
tearful, yet uncomprehending glance and
explained. "You forgot this is suppose to be
your punishment for attempting suicide.
Understand that you are a slave. Your body and
your mind are both my property. I will do with
you as I please. You will not have an orgasm
without my permission. You will not touch your
own erogenous zones without my permission except
to clean yourself. Understood?"
Cristy tried to stop her tears and
whispered, "Yes, master."
"Good. Now assume your kneeling
position."
As Cristy obeyed, Donatien went to a wall
cabinet and removed a few items. Donatien then
gestured for Cristy to approach one of the
devices in the dungeon. Donatien smiled as he
saw despair and dread in Cristy's beautiful
teary eyes, "Hurry up, slave!" Cristy obeyed,
crawling on her knees to the indicated device.
The device in question is an inverted
vertical rack, with various devious options
built into it. Basically, it is a box made of
thick durasteel plates bolted to the floor,
housing an internal electric motor, and other
machinery. The rack stood nine feet high, three
feet wide, two feet deep at the top, and three
feet deep at the bottom. One of its side is at
right angle to the floor, while the other is
slanted at a steep slope. A smooth, matte black
finish had been applied to the surface of the
rack, giving it an ominous and modern
appearance.
At the very top corners of the rack were
two small pulleys. Two steel cables, three-
eighth of an inch in diameter, ran from holes on
top of the box onto the pulley, then falling
down on the slanted side of the box. At the end
of each steel cable is a manacle. A similar,
but inverted arrangement of pulleys, steel
cables, and manacles is located at the base of
the box.
Donatien saw the fear in Cristy's eyes and
laughed. He grabbed the slave girl's ankles and
locked them into the manacles connected to the
top steel cables. He then pushed a button on
the side of the box and activated the electric
motors of the rack. Cristy watched helplessly
as her body was hoisted upwards by the steel
cables. The manacles locked about her ankles
dragged her nude body up the deeply slanted side
of the rack.
By the time Donatien stopped the electric
motors, Cristy was suspended upside down. Even
if she stretched, she would not be able to brush
the floor with the tip of her fingers. The
position was uncomfortable at the least and
Cristy realized that her upside down position,
combined with her legs spread apart by the
manacles, gave her master a clear view of her
labia. Abashed, Cristy's face flushed red with
embarrassment.
Now Donatien locked Cristy's wrists in the
bottom set of manacles. He then kissed Cristy,
"Now, you will learn slowly, what agony truly
is, slave." Pushing another button, Donatien
activated the electric motor again, reeling into
the rack all four steel cables. As the steel
cables were reeled into the rack, Cristy's limbs
were stretched.
Despite the tortures she had already
suffered, the agony of the rack was like nothing
Cristy had felt before. Cristy screamed in
pain. She could feel the muscles of her body
tightened like a bowstring. She could feel the
tendons and ligaments being pulled. She tried
to pull against the manacles, but it was
useless, the pain was excruciating. Beads of
perspiration formed on her forehead and tears
flowed profusely from her eyes.
Finally, Donatien stopped the electric
motors.
Cristy was sobbing softly, having nearly
fainted from the agony. Her pain blocked out
nearly all other sensations. Donatien examined
Cristy; her exquisite dancer's form stretched
taut on the rack. He ran his hands over her
body, feeling the firm muscles rippling beneath
her perfect skin. Her breathing was shallow,
and Donatien watched with fascination at the
gentle rise and fall of her lovely chest.
"How are you feeling, little slave?"
Cristy whimpered in pain, "I-it hurts,
master. P-please, master, Cristy is sorry..."
Cristy sobbed, her body choked by pain and
tears.
"No, I don't think you are sorry enough,"
Donatien said coolly, "you need discipline to
take the lesson to heart. You need more pain to
teach you not to damage your master's property
by trying to commit suicide."
"P-please, no," Cristy whimpered, her eyes
closed. She was terrified, her mind hazy with
pain. It seems that every muscle in her body is
sore and aching.
Donatien produced a pair of specially
designed nipple clamps. The nipple clamps are
shaped like small flat cones the size of
nickels. Unlike the traditional nipple clamps
which squeeze the victim's nipples, Donatien's
nipple clamps contain two smaller inner rings
which grows smaller as the clamps are tightened.
The inner rings constrict the victim's nipples
rather than squeezing them.
Donatien placed the nipple clamps on
Cristy's hypersensitive nipples. Slowly, he
tightened them. Cristy screamed; her nipples
felt as if someone had driven hot needles into
them. She begged Donatien to stop it, but her
tears and pleadings are ignored. Strange pain
and arousal flared in Cristy's body as she
squirmed, crying, sobbing, moaning, and
shivering.
Donatien now took out a box containing two
vibrators. While Cristy was unconscious in the
hospital, Donatien had taken the opportunity to
get extremely precise measurements of Cristy's
body. The two vibrators were custom designed to
fit into Cristy's vagina and anus respectively.
Each vibrator is large enough that it stretches
the orifice and causes pain, but small enough
that it does not damage the muscle or loosen the
tightness of the orifice.
Reaching for Cristy, Donatien parted her
buttocks and found the rosebud opening of her
anus. First Donatien lubricated the anal
vibrator with some oil before turning it on.
Donatien then inserted the vibrator into
Cristy's anus. The process was difficult due to
Cristy's position, but Donatien was eventually
successful. Cristy gasped in pain, as the
foreign object was inserted into her anal
tunnel, but she could do little other than sob
in pain.
As Donatien parted the folds of the
trembling young woman's labia, he noticed her
wetness. It was obvious to Donatien that
Cristy's body is slowly becoming one of a pain
slut. As the sexual sensitivity of Cristy's
body increases, pain and pleasure became
intertwined to her. Her body is now a slave to
the agonizing pleasure her tortures and
degradation brings; although her mind,
conditioned from childhood, would always despise
the response of her body. She would always be
slightly resistant, defiant, never totally
submissive and boring; yet her exquisite body
would be completely helpless to the pleasures
and pains of bondage. It was one of the reasons
why Donatien had chosen Cristy in the first
place.
"What a beautiful slut you are, my slave,"
Donatien smiled as he inserted the vibrator into
Cristy's vagina. "You are a slut, aren't you,
my darling slave?"
Cristy could barely talk from the variety
of pain that is inflicted on her body. Yet, she
dare not ignore her master; she sobbed softly,
"Y-yes, master... C-C-Cristy is... is your
slut."
Donatien now took out two wires. He
connected the end of each wire to a separate
nipple clamp. The other ends of the wires were
plugged into jacks on the side of the rack.
What makes Donatien's dungeon different
from those of others is the fact that all his
devices utilize the latest technology. The rack
has a small computer built within. Using a
wireless system, the computer can be programmed
to control a variety of devices. In this case,
the computer would be programmed to control the
electrical motors of the rack, the vibrators,
and the nipple clamps.
Donatien's fingers danced over the
controls for the rack's computer. The
electrical motors would alternate between
reeling in and reeling out two inches of steel
cable at ten minute periods. This would prevent
the slave girl from been damaged by the rack but
cause her plenty of pain. Every two minutes,
the rack would send an electrical current, via
the wires, to the nipple clamps. The current
would last one minute. Every seven minutes, the
vibrators would stop for three minutes,
preventing Cristy from reaching orgasm, but
still keeping her on the edge of ecstasy,
agonizing.
Donatien activated the program and heard
Cristy scream, her body jolting from the first
of the electrical shock sent to her nipples.
Donatien smiled. He would leave the beautiful
slave girl suffering as she is for a few hours.
He is fairly certain that by the time he
returns, Cristy would be little more than a
piece of slave flesh moaning and squirming on
the rack.
Tears stained Cristy's beautiful face.
Perspiration glistened on her dancer's body.
She could hear the muffled humming of the
electrical motors, extending her aching form yet
again. She whimpered in agony, pulling weakly
on her steel bonds, gasping as her body was
stretched taut yet again. Suddenly, electricity
shot through her tormented body. Delivered
through her stiff, sore nipples, the electrical
current sets her nerves aflame.
She cried out in pain once more, feeling
her muscles, already sore from the rack, tighten
from the electrical current. Her excruciating
pain was intertwined with desire. The buzzing
vibrators at her aching groin kept taking her to
the tormenting edge of ecstasy, but never
letting her reach that orgasm.
Her breath was haggard; convulsive sobs
wracked her body. Her mind was fogged as the
agonies of her ordeal inundated her senses. The
hours seem to stretch into eternity. The rack
seems an earthly manifestation of hell. Her
every joint begged for release; her every muscle
screamed for mercy.
Her body was a living symphony of agony,
terror, and ecstasy.
Cristy wept.
She gasped, trying to catch her breath.
Released from the hellish rack, Cristy collapsed
into her master's embrace, choking on her own
tears. Donatien had carefully removed the
nipple clamps and the vibrators before releasing
her from the rack. Cristy pounded her small
fist into her master's powerful chest. "I hate
you! I hate you!" she wept, so overwhelmed by
her ordeal that she no longer cared to address
her master properly.
"N-no, p-please," she pleaded as she felt
her master's hand between her thighs. His
fingers toyed with her abused clitoris making
her gasp in pain. She felt the familiar rush of
blood to her skin. She was both aroused and
ashamed. She felt him lowering his pants and
his stiff penis touching her. Her mind, still
reeling from her experience on the rack, was
filled with terror as she realized his
intentions.
She tried to push him away, but she was
too weak. He slapped her, sending her sobbing
on the floor. Tears ran down her cheeks and she
pleaded to him with a pitiful stare, dread and
hopelessness in her beautiful dark eyes. He
ignored her; his left hand on her shoulder, he
roughly pushed her lithe, smaller form to the
cold floor.
She struggled, but it was useless. He
placed his left hand on her stomach to keep her
body on the floor and pinned her left thigh down
with his left knee. He grabbed her right ankle
and pulled it over his left shoulder, thus
spreading her legs wide apart, with her sex
easily accessible.
"N-no," Cristy begged, her hands covering
her labia, "P-please master, Cristy hurts,
master..."
Donatien's left hand grabbed Cristy's
slender wrists, moving them aside, uncovering
her sex. Bending down, Donatien moved his right
hand beneath Cristy's body, his right arm
encircling her. Cristy tugged at her wrists,
but Donatien's grip was tight. Tears poured
freely from her eyes, "M-master, please." Her
large almond-shaped eyes were almost glazed with
terror; "...please no, please..." she sobbed.
Donatien smiled; he enjoys the mixture of
loathing, shame, fear, and hopelessness in
Cristy's teary eyes. He poised his penis at the
entrance to her vaginal tunnel, then, instead of
ramming into her, his right arm lifted up
Cristy's slender form, impaling her on his
massive organ. Cristy wailed in pain, feeling
the now familiar agony of having her master's
penis raping her. As Donatien released her
wrists, she pushed at her master's powerful
chest, trying to dislodge herself.
As Donatien gyrated his hip and thrust
into her again, Cristy screamed again. Her
scream was cut short, however, as Donatien's
hand grabbed a handful of her raven tress and
painfully pulled her face to his. Donatien
silenced her scream by his lips upon hers. His
kiss was fierce and he forced his tongue into
her mouth, teasing at her smaller tongue.
Initially, Cristy continued tried to push
Donatien away, but his arms encircled her slim
body and imprisoned her. As he continued to
kiss her and rape her, Cristy cried from the
pain, but also felt ecstasy lurking beneath the
agony. She felt her body growing hot, her
desire, inflamed by the hours of torture, now
burst into a conflagration. The inhibitions of
her background slowly melted against her
desires. Slowly, tentatively, she started
kissing him back. Their tongues entangled as he
renewed his thrusts into her.
Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes
as she cringed in pain from his thrusts. She
felt as if her body was on fire, with her groin
as the core of the flame. Despite the pain of
having his massive organ within her narrow
tunnel, she moved her hips, tried to match his
rhythm.
Donatien smiled as he felt the slave girl
succumbing to the desires of her body. He knew
that her mind will always reject the notion of
herself as a sex toy, but her body will be his
submissive slave. He crushed her slim,
graceful, dancer's form in his iron embrace,
letting her feeling his strength. Instead of
trying to push him off, her lovely arms embraced
him, her nails piercing into his back.
They continued the kiss, breathing each
other's scent. Cristy could barely stand the
agony of her master's continuing thrusting, but
as her pleasure increased it slowly balanced the
pain. Her mind was swimming through a pool of
terror, shame, pain, and pleasure. She felt her
own body's rhythm speeding faster along with
that of her master's. Their rhythm built slowly
into a crescendo. Their lips parted. Cristy
moaned, tears of mixed joy and agony streaked
down her face. Their motions became even
faster; he thrust into her with savage, brutal
strength. It was all she could do to hug him
tight as her body bucked from his assaults.
Finally, they reached the peak. Cristy
bit her lower lip and felt the ultimate ecstasy
that she had never felt. Their bodies shuddered
explosively together. Again and again, they
came, drenching each other's sex. Finally,
their energy exhausted; they collapsed to the
floor together, their body still joined.
It was evening again.
Dressed in his sleeping robe, Donatien sat
in his study in his favorite chair facing the
fireplace with his feet up. His slave girl
kneeled nude beside his legs, gently washing his
feet. Donatien watched the twisting light and
shadows from the fireplace dancing across his
slave's exquisite body. It was a lovely sight.
Her eyes were humbly downcast as she dried
his feet with a small towel. She then washed
her own hands before uncapping a small bottle of
scented lotion. She poured the lotion over her
small hands, then began to rub it over his feet,
messaging them softly. Donatien sighed, feeling
himself in a rare moment of relaxation.
As the slave girl finished messaging his
feet and washed her hands, Donatien took out a
long flat box from the pocket. "Slave, come
here," he commanded, "I wish to show you
something."
Gingerly, she crawled to him and kneeled
in the proper position, "Yes, master?"
Donatien opened the box, but hid its
content from the eyes of the slave. He removed
a tiny velvet pouch from the box before closing
the box and placing it on the lamp stand besides
him. "Give me your palms, little slave," he
commanded her.
She extended her palms and gasped as he
poured the contents of the velvet pouch into her
hands. It was an intricately wrought necklace
made of the finest gold. Tiny gold wires
intertwined in a floral pattern that linked
together in a necklace. At the middle of the
necklace was a small platinum ring. "It's
beautiful," the slave girl whispered, her voice
hushed.
Donatien smiled, "Examine it carefully,
slave, you might notice something interesting."
The slave girl picked up the necklace and
examined it. She paused as she saw the details
of the ring. It was a platinum wedding band.
Upon its outside were engraved symbolic bamboo
leaves, representing longevity. Inside, engrave
with a spidery script in both English and
Chinese: "Until the oceans ran dry and the rocks
decayed, our love shall never die. To Alex,
from Linda." The slave girl looked up, tears in
her eyes, "Master, it's the wedding band
Cristy's mother gave to Cristy's father, isn't
it?"
"Yes," Donatien's hand traced the slave
girl's cheeks.
"Then, Cristy's father is still alive?"
"Maybe."
"Please, master," the slave girl
whispered, her voice urgent, droplets of tears
fell from her eyes, "do not tease Cristy. Is
Cristy's father still alive?"
"Patience, my little slave," Donatien
smiled as he wiped away the tears on the slave
girl's cheeks. "Do you remember that yesterday,
when you ask me the reasons I show you your
former keeper's death I said I won't tell you
the second reason until later?"
Cristy nodded, tears brimming in her eyes,
"Yes, master."
"You have a decision to make, little
slave. As of this moment, your father is still
alive, but he may soon enjoy the similar, ah,
'exit' service as your former keeper."
"No!" the slave girl cried, horrified.
"Please, master, don't do it! Please, your
slave begs you. Cristy's father has never done
anything against master. Please, master, punish
Cristy instead."
"Silence!" Donatien slapped the slave
girl. The slave girl buried her face in her
hands, weeping. "Listen to me, little slave.
Your father is yet alive in an African POW camp.
You can chose for him to die as I said, or his
safe return. He will return home safely, to
find a large sum of money in his account to
retire and live out his remaining days in
peace."
"Please, master," the slave girl begged,
"Cristy would do anything you want. Master can
have anything he wishes, let Cristy's father
live."
"You forgot that I already own you, little
slave. Now be silent, unless you want to be
punished for speaking without permission."
Cristy nodded, tears running from her
eyes.
"However, you do have something I want. I
want your complete loyalty. You will never try
to escape. You will never disobey me directly
or indirectly. You will kill yourself to be
buried with me if I should die. You will place
my interest before your own. You will be,
completely, my slave."
The slave girl sobbed softly, knowing that
if she agreed, she would be trading her hopes of
freedom for her father's life. She cried,
knowing that if she makes the choice, she would
never violate it, she would become the chain
that binds herself to slavery. Yet, what choice
did she have?
She looked up, her face wet with tears.
Biting her lower lip, she made her decision.
She nodded to her master, her delicate voice
trembling, "Yes, master. Cristy will give you
her complete loyalty. Cristy will be your
willing slave."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. May Cristy see her father one last
time?"
Donatien thought about it, "Yes, but only
in passing. You will not be able to talk to him
or interact with him in any way. You are
absolutely certain on becoming my willing
slave?"
"Yes, master."
"Good," Donatien took the necklace from
Cristy's hand, then opened the long flat box he
had placed on the lamp stand earlier. Within
the box are three articles: a collar, a
bracelet, and an anklet. All three items were
made of durasteel, with a matte black finish
applied to its surface.
Donatien stood up and picked up the
anklet. The anklet was a band of durasteel with
a fusion lock. Once snapped together, the ends
of the anklet fuse, so that it could only be
removed by cutting the durasteel band. Attached
to the anklet are two tiny bells that would emit
a delicate sound as the wearer of the anklet
moved. Donatien snapped the anklet shut about
the slave girl's left ankle and watch the fusion
lock fuses the metal.
Donatien now picked up the bracelet. The
bracelet is basically a band of tiny circlets
riveted to one another. In the middle of the
bracelet is a tag which reads: "I am a slave,
the property of Donatien Alphonse Francois
D'Ailly. If found please return me to him by
contacting the number on the reverse side." On
the reverse side of the band are an address and
a number. The bracelet also locks together via
a fusion lock. Donatien locked the bracelet
around the slave girl's right wrist.
Lastly, Donatien picked up the collar.
The collar was a thin and narrow band of
durasteel, with a thumb print lock and a small
hole for attaching a leash. Donatien matched
his thumb print to the collar and it snapped
open. He placed the collar around slave girl's
neck, then snap it shut.
The anklet, the bracelet, and the collar
were all made to fit the slave girl perfectly.
Each item is slightly larger than the area it
locked around, making it easy to move for the
purpose of cleaning, but impossible to slip off.
Donatien now stood before the fireplace.
"Crawl here and kneel, slave," he commanded.
The slave girl obeyed, crawling before her
master and kneeled.
"Now kiss my feet."
The slave girl obeyed, planting her soft
lips on his feet.
"Now, put your forehead to the floor."
The slave girl obeyed. She then cried out
as her master places his right foot on top of
her head, putting pressure on her forehead
against the floor.
"Do you submit to me completely," Donatien
intoned, "to be my willing slave always?"
The slave girl whispered, "Yes, master.
Cristy submit to you completely. To be your
willing slave always." She was sobbing softly
now, fresh tears staining her cheeks. She felt
the strength of her master's foot on top of her
head. She submits to him; she is his.
Donatien removed his foot from her head.
Bending down, he fastened the gold necklace
(with the platinum wedding band in its middle)
around the slave girl's neck.
The slave girl wept; her tears staining
her master's feet. With tenderness, she kissed
her master's feet, licking up her salty tears.
[The End of Song of the Clarinet]
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