Whole New Slave Game Ch. 05

After the speeches, two big guys lowered a headpiece over my head that covered my eyes and played white noise into my ears. It was sensory deprivation time again to make sure I could not help but focus on the pain.

I will skip a blow-by-blow account of the whipping and shocks that left me a complete ball of tension and confusion after a few minutes. They decided that, as the electro-shocks were going to be low voltage, they could administer the shocks to my breasts along with all the whippings with the little paddles. Despite my best efforts to try somehow to relax, the whips and shocks sent me into a spasm of jerks and jolts, gasps and screams that must have pleased the film makers and much of the audience.

I was lifted from the horse and placed face down with my hips placed over a padded bar that looked to be the same one on which I had been penetrated and branded seven years before. My arms were attached to a bar in front of me.

There was another pause. I think this was to let me recover enough from what had happened on the horse to feel all the new pain and humiliation that was coming. Next on that agenda was something that had definitely not happened in 2009. An electric breast pump was attached to each of my hanging breasts. The milking that followed was undignified but not at all painful. Leslie almost tripped trying to get a close up of my breasts in the pumps.

I felt very embarrassed to have this done in front of an audience. I don't know why. They had proved I was a lactating mammal and could be used like a cow. Do they think they are not animals?

We work so hard to make ourselves into humans and divorce ourselves from the rest of creation, but who are we fooling? It was all part, though, of reducing me from a supposedly powerful human into a subservient creature while I still remained aware of my humanity. Whipping an animal without self-awareness is just cruel. Treating me like a farm animal while I was conscious of my circumstances was a sick pleasure for the audience. Also, it was an even sicker pleasure for me, as I had to admit to myself later.

I should have expected the milking given how the BLC had exploited my breasts in the past. The next step was totally unanticipated. I'd not even heard of figging. I was educated quickly by being shown some sort of yellow root that had been carved to look like a thin 5-inch penis. Cute, I thought before one of the guys moved behind me and stuck the thing up my ass. My butt cheeks were held together for a minute or so but before that time ended, it felt like my ass was on fire. Involuntarily, I began gyrating my butt in a way that must have looked extremely obscene on the camera.

I normally act fairly ladylike in the most trying of circumstances. This did not work now. Already, incredibly tense and horny from all the morning activities, I started screaming "oh fuck" which turned to "oh just fuck me," which turned to "please, please, fuck me."

Later, I learned that I had received a treatment originally used to get horses to hold up their tails during horseshows. The ginger root definitely got me to move my tail vigorously. If I had had a trace of dignity left, it was gone. When the same thing was rubbed on my clitoris, I was beside myself with pain and horniness and would probably have traded all my tomorrows for a cock right then.

Walker walked up to my face. "It seems you need help, would you like me to fuck you up the ass." "Yes, Yes," I said and he walked around and rammed his much larger than average cock into my anus.

I think the lubrication on Walker's condom may have diluted some of the ginger root. I know that I had a screaming orgasm in almost no time and I am not generally a screamer. Walker also grabbed my breasts in his inimitable way asserting complete control of my body as he kept pumping. I was brought to a second screaming orgasm while he came.

I was left there for a few minutes for the camera to record my heavy breathing as I recovered from the sex. The pain and much of the horniness remained. A couple of the black clad men detached me from the padded bar.

Ferguson had kept his clothing on for my 2009 initiation and acted like he was there for a real estate closing although he did not fear being identified because the BLC is always careful not to show any notable man in any of its presentations. This time, his late 60s body was nude and his cock hard. I guess his second wife had kept him in shape and who-know-what else he was doing. Looking at his phone, he announced, "This has run a little longer than expected but my 4:30 appointment has been understanding." He went onto his back on a metal frame bed that had a mirror behind the head of the bed. I was told to take his cock into my vagina. I started to work his penis when surprisingly I was bent forward and my arms were attached firmly to the head of the bed. Fergusson kept up his up and down motion and mashed my breasts together for a while before saying, "Laurel, look up in the mirror, we have another little surprise."

I should also have expected the next step although somehow it had not occurred to me. A branding iron was being waved in the mirror. I screamed, "you motherfucker," at Fergusson who explained, "I have always wanted to have the experience of fucking you while you were being branded."

I had already been branded "BLC" so this brand was just a circle put around the "BLC" that was on my ass. I held still knowing it would hurt like hell. In the mirror, I could see the nasty red circle of iron coming at my buttocks and hyperventilated. I contracted my vaginal muscles with all my might just as the branding iron hit me. I think Fergusson came that second. I was stunned by the initial pain but shortly started working his cock against my clitoris and g-spot with insane enthusiasm. My resulting orgasm was strong enough that by the time it had subsided, so had the pain from my ass.

After Fergusson's orgasm and mine and most of the pain from the branding had subsided, one of the black clad men handed me water. The cameras stopped. Some sort of medication and a bandage was applied to the brand, another two men detached me from the bed and led me to a mattress on which lay a man with a very large penis even by porn star standards. "Take it," the director said. I did and was pushed down so another man could travel where Walker had been. A cock naturally was pushed into my face. The three men proceeded to use me like a toy until the three of them came in me.

I came too. Several times. I had no choice. Friction was applied at the proper points and my body responded. I had had no choice about anything after I was put on the horse. I was completely compliant and receptive. Except perhaps to decide when to scream, outside forces controlled all of my motion and feelings. I'm sure, though, that my nervous system decided even when I would scream and only told my conscious mind after the decision had been made.

There was a brief break and a shower. "Too much dripping can look rather unappetizing on camera," the director explained.

The next three black leather clad men had me in a slightly different position. Now we were on our sides but the basic act was the same, three holes and three cocks, with me not having control of any of the action. They were careful to let me breath from time to time. 4 or 5 more orgasms were had adding up the four of us. One man sprayed his sperm in my face.

I was subjected to several more indignities. My last orgasm strangely was the most incredible of them all as though my tired body wanted to fire off the last of its energy like a supernova. I know I squirted as strong contractions sent a wave emanating from the core of my sex throughout my body. My eyes were shut tight as my mind blessedly shut out everything but the intense feelings of release.

I came back to full consciousness to find that my ecstasy had been recorded close up by several cameras only inches from my face and pussy. There would be no denying that I enjoyed being used that time.

The camera then came in close for a view of my vagina dripping semen. Nothing romantic about this, just grossly physical evidence of physical sex. There would be no doubt for the viewers that my submission to sex as a woman had been unconditional.

Finally, I was lowered onto a garden wheelbarrow that had been filled with ice. My hot ass was on ice as the camera filmed my humiliated and exhausted body being wheeled out of the dungeon.

HOME BUT NOT HOME FREE

Literally having my ass on ice, I began to contemplate what had happened since I had gotten on the plane from JFK last Wednesday. Maybe missing a few, I had had sex with at least 16 men, some of them more than once. I had been set up as a villain for BLC employees and those who watched its Internet broadcasts. Also, it seemed all the people normally responsible for my security were busy or on vacation. Some people had mentioned vague rumors about my future. Others seemed to be avoiding me as though being too close to me might lead to being hit by a stray bullet. If I was being set up for an assassination, whoever was doing it was not being too subtle about it.

I did not enjoy thinking about a possible assassination. I thought about all the sex, bondage and submission I had experienced over the week. I could not deny that I had enjoyed most of it. Overall, though, it was unsettling. I do not expect love or harbor some notion that sex can only be enjoyed as part of a loving relationship, but I expect a little sense of mutual joy and communication in the act. In much of this last trip I had been simply used. This was upsetting but my creepy mind would remind me that I often enjoy being simply used. That thought did not last long before I reflected back on the fact that it was possible that I was being set up as the victim of some Byzantine plot that would help someone take over something in Bolry.

I was gently lifted out of the wheelbarrow by the BLC medical team and went through another group of tests. They said I had a few light bruises and abrasions. The brand was inspected and treated again. No sympathy offered.

Fortunately, I was so exhausted I fell asleep immediately after a quiet dinner I had taken in my room.

Wednesday morning, I was allowed to sleep late but no one brought breakfast and I had no messages except a flight reminder from the airline for the flight Thursday and a long message from Fred about how the new nanny had broken the dishwasher. He asked if I would be able to deal with the repairman Friday. He did say he missed me.

My muscles were stiff all over. Although I had not been able to move much during the making of the film, the tension, the flexing of frightened limbs, the rapid straining and instinctive twisting to avoid pain that could not be avoided, left me with aches all over.

I got dressed and ate breakfast alone at the hotel restaurant. I had no friends there. The other sex slaves I knew were at the resort or on foreign missions. People I vaguely knew looked over at me but no one came up to say hello. Maybe it was all in my head, but it seemed some people not only wanted me to be insecure, they wanted the world to know I was not being protected.

There was nothing I had to do Wednesday afternoon but it would be boring to stay at the BLC Headquarters and attached hotel all day. I went downtown and looked at documents connected with the Pacific Resort. I could see no reason why the casino contractor had been overpaid for so long or how the Ministry of Justice had looked at the payments and decided that they were justified. I also found problems in the pipeline contracts.

Back at the hotel, I reported for my exercises like a good sex slave. I still was stiff from Tuesday when I got done.

Wednesday night I ordered room service. I just could not face another night eating alone in the hotel restaurant. I immediately recognized the waiter who delivered dinner. It was Bolzemkin, handsome and charming former lover of Svetlana, me and many others, and now officially the husband of a partner in my law firm, Chiara. I almost shouted for joy.

"Chiara says that you probably need some cheering up," he said. As Chiara is a sex slave, her marriage to Bolzemkin is as polyamorous as mine. Like Fred Mann, Bolzemkin has to share his wife with several hundred BLC customers a year. Like Fred, Bolzemkin is free to do as he pleases when he is not with his wife.

This evening Bolzemkin started to please me by bringing dinner for both of us including what I ordered and a very small bottle of champagne. "Although this room is bugged, the Bolrian Lottery Corporation won't probably throw a fit if you have a few sips after all they put you through yesterday."

After dinner, he gave me a long massage from head to toe with very nice work in between. That was followed with lovemaking of as affectionate a kind as I ever receive. The second time we made love that night I did my cowgirl ride on top with a very different angle and attitude than what was done with Fergusson a little over a day before. I fell asleep knowing that I need it sometimes rough and sometimes romantic. I believed I enjoyed sex much more than most other women. Lying next to Bolzemkin in a happy daze, I did not know whether I wished l was more like most women or not.