Just A Little More Time

Jennie barely reacted when Sung released the straps from her wrists and ankles, pushing her to her knees. The man towered over her, throwing long, pale shadows in the room’s hazy light. He set a vibrating bullet and violet wand on the floor beside her.

“Well? Get going, girl!”

Jennie obediently picked up the violet wand and flicked it on. A soft, electrical humming filled the room. The wand lit up with an orange light, crackling blue around the outer glass shell. One thought stood out clear in her drug-dulled mind. Jennie knew she did not want to go back into that box. She picked up the shiny silver bullet and twisted the top. A soft hum joined the crackling of the wand. She pressed the bullet to her with one hand while lightly running the wand over her thighs, belly and the sides of her calves. At first, jennie focused on the wand, on how the electricity distracted her from the pain between her legs, in her bandaged hands, in the raw untended scrapes on her legs. As Sung settled into a more comfortable stance above her she slowly switched to rely more on the bullet, pressing it against her clit. Soon enough the tension built, snowballing until Jennie came, not with loud cries but with a single quiet gasp.

“That’s enough.”

Sung kicked the bullet from her hands, crouching down to tear the violet wand from her hands. With a malicious grin he gripped her shoulder and pressed the full length against her pussy, hyper-sensitive from cumming. Jennie’s eyes widened at the sudden pain, her body lurching upwards of her own accord. Sung grinned, showing a mouth full of white, straight teeth.

“So, boys? You think she should get to ride with us?”

Sung saw the fear in the Girl’s eyes as she gazed at the box her dark coffin. He saw her revulsion and then her submission as she picked up the violet wand and flicked it on. Like an obedient little sex slave Jennie did as she was commanded. The young golden haired beauty tried her best and yet Sung’s sharp command,

“That’s enough.”

Seemed to catch the girl by surprise, he took the shinny vibrator from her as he also grasped the violet wand and then with a look of pure evil in his eyes he gripped her shoulder and pressed the full length against her pussy, hyper-sensitive from cuming. Jennie’s eyes widened at the sudden pain, her body lurching upwards of her own accord. Sung grinned, showing a mouth full of white, straight teeth. He repeated the process again and again as he fucked the hapless beauty with the thick wand and the kiss of the Blue Ferry until despite herself Jennie came for him, her supple young body convulsing with the intensity of her orgasm.

“So, boys? You think she should get to ride with us?”

The men laughed as Jennie’s body contorted in the ecstasy and the pain Sung brought her. He tossed her a costume that was little more that a spider’s web of straps that would just barely cover her nipples and her sweet little pussy.

Put this on Girl!”

He also tossed a pair of black stiletto heels to her as well. When Jennie was dresses she was let out to a private jet. A jet that would take her deeper into the closed world that her new Master Sin Yet Sung not only inhabited but controlled all access to.

After take off he looked at his scantily clad slave as she stood before him.

“I believe you have been taught the basics girl and how to display yourself for your master’s pleasure.”

As sung spoke he pointed to the floor in front of him.

“How shall you amuse me my dear? Pleasure or pain? This time it will be your choice.”

Jennie shivered in the cold air of the plane’s cabin. Sung and his goons all had thick shirts and suit jackets to keep them warm, but her ridiculous outfit left so much of her body exposed. Nobody had offered her a blanket or anything hot to drink, even though she hadn’t eaten since waking up from the drugs. She could feel her body getting progressively weaker as what little sugar her body had stored was depleted. Jennie needed food, and soon.

At Sung’s command she toppled awkwardly to her knees. The silly costume was apparently designed to tighten uncomfortably around her body at the slightest deviation from the standard display pose. She grimaced as a delicate strip of skin was ground between the raw edges of two straps.

“Pleasure.”

The word was flat, a dull monotone barely audible over the roar of the jet engines. Sung seemed to read her lips though, and bent down to pull a shiny metal suitcase from under his seat. Inside lay an array of heavy metal toys, everything from handcuffs and padlocks to several sizes of shiny stainless steel dildos. He picked out the second-to-smallest dildo and handed it to her.

“Start it in your mouth, girl.”

Jennie obediently sucked on the cold metal, somewhat grateful that the action helped moisten her dry mouth. One of Sung’s men opened a small hip flask and took a long draw at the contents. She sucked until the man decided whatever was going on outside the windows was more interested than the naked girl in front of him. Sung sat back, looking bored. Jennie fumbled the saliva-slick dildo, unable to arrest its fall as it hit the floor with a low thump. Sung’s cold, dead eyes locked on her face. Jennie’s blood ran colder as his face flushed with anger.

“ Lock her up in the cargo hold.”

No matter how Jennie begged, apologized or pleaded, two of the goons padlocked her arms behind her back and bound them tight to her at the elbows. Her legs were drawn tight against her butt and bound in the same way. Soon she was in the hold, suspended horizontally between three ribs that supported the floor of the passenger cabin. Jennie could move only her head, though it hurt terribly to raise it for more than a minute at a time. Alone, immobile and thoroughly helpless she finally broke down and cried, tears and mucus dripping onto the luggage below, where they soon dried in the icy, dry air.

Jennie was swept into her new life as a sex slave in the household of Sin Yet Sung. How much she suffered or how much pleasure she received depended on her willingness to obey her Master’s every whim. Sung could grant the young golden western beauty more intense pleasure than she could ever imagined was possible. He could also make her tremble and shiver in the most hideous pain. Yet always there was pain and pleasure as Sung reinforced the dark desires that Yuri had schooled Jennie’s treacherous young body to crave.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It took Boris and Serge three months to track down where Jennie had been taken by Yuri and sold. Boris was none to gentle in extracting the buyer’s name from Lei Yüan. It had taken some very delicate negotiations to be invited to Sin Yet Sung’s palace.


“ I believe you have some property that was stolen from me Sung.”

Jennie stared at the kitchen’s ugly red tile floor. She had been ordered to scrub it down immediately after breakfast. Since coming to Sung’s, she had been used mostly for the hard physical labour that no one else seemed to do. Jennie had cleaned more filth and scum in three months than she ever had either at work or home. Sung had, of course, tried her in the bedroom, but he soon tired of her total obedience and docility. He had whipped, caned and flogged her over and over in hope of bringing out her supposed hellcat temperament, but even those extremes of pain didn’t do much to revive Jennie’s spirit. So, in boredom and frustration, Sung had turned Jennie into a scullery slave.

Upstairs and well out of the way, two men lounged in an opulent smoking parlour. A set of double doors leading to the patio were open, letting the summer air freshen what was so often a dark, damp place. In his plush leather chair by the hearth, Sung shot Boris a surprised glance over his coffee mug.

“ I don’t know what you mean, Boris. Everything here at Windmere I own, fair and square. “

Jennie’s time in the scullery had given her supple young body time to heal, time to grow strong and supple once more. Her scares had healed and now where merely thin erotic little white imperfections on her otherwise flawless skin that spoke of her Master’s darker passions. Yet her time of enforced chastity did nothing to quell the desires of the flesh that Yuri’s training had awakened in her gorgeous young body. Jennie was called to present herself to Mistress Sonya,

“The Master has a very important guest and you will serve them coffee in the conservatory. You will dress appropriately as a maid girl!”

Mistress Sonya then dismissed Jennie so she could dawn the stylized maids uniform that would leave her proud young firm breasts bared for the delight of her Master and his guest. Her long athletic legs encased in sheer black silk thigh high stockings held in place by crimson garters and a pair of crotchless lace panties completed her ensemble. As Jennie softly knocked on the conservatory’s door she heard Master Sung’s deep voice declare.

” Everything here at Windmere I own, fair and square. “

There was a momentary silence before she heard his command,

“Enter!”

Jennie entered with her eyes demurely down cast and came to Master Sung’s side and prepared him his coffee.

“My guest takes his black Miss Taylor.”

When Jennie eyes met Sung’s guest’s as she handed him his coffee and the young golden haired beauty was looking into Boris’s dark haunting eyes.

“Girl on your hands and knees I need a coffee table.”

Sung’s voice was soft but edged with the cold hard note of command.

Jennie’s face showed no flicker of recognition as she handed Boris the delicate coffee cup. As she eased it into his palm Boris’s weather-roughened fingers brushed hers. Still she did not respond. Sung had trained her all too well to be his obedient little toy. On his command she knelt, then clumsily eased the heavy, molded table top into its position. Sung leaned forwards to set his coffee cup on the edge of the table, smirking at the girl frozen between the two men.

Jennie barely thought about her past life anymore. Once, upon arriving at the castle she had remarked on the simple luxury of carpeted floors compared to Boris’s home. Moments later, she found herself screaming on the ground as Mistress Sonya beat her bare legs and back viciously with a flexible plastic cane. When her body was covered in welts and beginning to bruise Mistress Sonya dragged her by her collar to the tiny room on the main-floor entranceway where she was to sleep. The room was barely larger than the battered twin-sized mattress it contained, subject to chills every time someone opened the entrance door, and often contained spiders lurking in the dark corners. The only light was a 40 watt bulb recessed into the ceiling, controlled by a switch in a lockbox outside. Often, Jennie would be awake in the dark long into the night or early in the morning, unable to see her hands before her face. Working in the kitchens was a welcome escape from Jennie’s enclosed hell.

Boris watched as Jennie obediently dropped to her hands and knees to become the table that Sung desired. He watched as Sung quietly sipped his coffee before setting it in the hollow of the golden beauty’s back and again declared,

” Everything here at Windmere I own, fair and square. “

As if to punctuate his statement Sung let his hand drop to Jennie’s naked little pussy. He let the tips of his fingers trail along the sweet delicate coral pink folds, hew let them dip within her chaste young body to roll her clit under the pad of his finger as if to prove the girl was his to do with as he pleased. Yet Boris noticed the dull look in Miss Taylor’s eyes. Gone was the spark, the fire, which had always been there. Gone was Jennie’s spirit and in its place was a compliant little slave devoid of everything that had made her desirable. Sin Yet Sung slowly finger fucked his little china doll until she was quivering with the need to cum. He let his fingers slip from the girl’s hot wet pussy and took up his coffee cup and as he brought it to his lips he simply said,

“You may cum now girl!”

Boris sat quietly; apparently even Jennie’s name had been taken from her.

Jennie shuddered on the floor as the men watched her. Master Sung had trained her to cum without stimulation on command. Closing her eyes, Jennie focused on the spark of pleasure Sung had planted inside her and willed it to grow. The sensation quickly spread throughout Jennie’s naked body. Mental orgasms were always much more intense and long- lasting than ones caused purely by physical stimulation. She twitched and shuddered, lost in a world of incredible pleasure. In her tiny little cell, Jennie had practiced and practiced cumming with a bare minimum of contact until she could do it without needing to try very hard. At the very least it had distracted her from the cloying darkness.

When Jennie opened her eyes she was lying on her side between the two men. The table top lay upside-down on her thigh, the two cups of coffee spilled and rapidly soaking into the carpet. Sung’s face was flushed with rage. He seized a whippy plastic rod from behind his chair and raised it high before bringing it down hard on her hip. Jennie screamed at the sudden agony, her cries growing longer and higher in pitch as the vicious beating continued. Sung was in one of his rages again. They happened off and on whenever she made some slight slip in behaviour or demeanor. Jennie had learned long ago that to resist or beg for him to stop would only worsen the beating. So she simply covered her face and ears with her arms and tried to avoid a blow to the face.

Jennie shuddered on the floor in wild ecstasy as Boris watched her cum simply from Master Sung’s softly spoken command. The gorgeous little blonde vixen twitched and shuddered, lost in a world of incredible pleasure, as she shamelessly embraced the intensity of her mental orgasm. Boris had never seen Jennie so aroused or cum so hard, not even when Yuri had seduced her magnificent young body with unimagined pain and pleasure, which had become under his tutelage, like an opiate her treacherous young body craved and demanded ever more intense stimulation to trigger her ecstasy despite the horror it brought to her young mind.

When Jennie’s soft, stunningly, expressive eyes, fluttered open she lay prostrate between the two men, the table top lay upside-down on her thigh, the two cups of coffee spilled and rapidly soaking into the carpet. Boris could see the gleam of pleasure that shown in Sung’s eyes, at his adorable little golden slave’s performance, despite the outward appearance of his rage. Master Sung whippy plastic rod of discipline rained down hard, expertly placed blows, on her hip. Jennie’s screams of agony only seemed to arouse her master, her cries growing longer and higher in pitch as the vicious beating continued. Sung was in one of his rages again, a rage to demonstrate that Miss Jennie Taylor was his body and soul.

“Lick up the mess you made Girl……….”

The blows though vicious were designed to cause intense searing pain but not to bruise or break the girl’s creamy ivory skin.

“………….Masturbate as you do it, and cum no less then ten times for my pleasure.”

As if to punctuate his demand the plastic rod curled around Jennie’s trim little waist to lick at her bare shaven pussy.

Boris simply sat there apparently disinterested to the casual observer. Yet there was a cold deadly look in his eyes that only those that had been in his service for along time could recognize as barely controlled rage at the way his stolen property was being treated. Yet there was a grudging respect for Sung as well for he had truly Mastered Miss Jennie Taylor body and soul.


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Serge was in the kitchens enjoying a cup of coffee with Mistress Sonya. She had proudly shown the demure eunuch Jennie’s closeted room under the stairs with its single mattress and bare electric light bubble. If Boris was unable to convince Sung to return Jennie then they would need to know the layout of the house and where she was kept when not serving her Master or Mistress, if Boris was to reclaim her.

Jennie howled in pain as Sung hit her again and again with the cane. Each blow felt like it was lighting her skin on fire. Finally, he finished with a brutal stroke over her tender, shaved pussy. At that, Jennie could bear no more. She flung a hand up in one last pleading gesture. Sung glowered at her for a moment before bringing the cane down square across Jennie’s right cheek. Jennie’s hands instantly snapped to her face, the fearful shake of her fingers only adding to her misery as they brushed the red welt.

Sung took a moment to inspect the cane, spinning it in his fingers as he inspected it for cracks or traces of blood. Satisfied at his skill, he returned the cane to its place and settled down in his seat.

Jennie lay crippled by pain on the floor, fighting down sobs as the burning sensation of her wounds increased. Sung usually didn’t punish her with the cane, preferring his harsher single-tailed whip. But the whip took skin off and drew blood, something even Sung wouldn’t tolerate when guests were being entertained. So the cane was his preferred weapon for domestic discipline, while the damage done by the whip was for private use only. As the men made small talk above her head, Jennie obediently licked at the splatters of coffee on the chair legs, picked up the broken china and set it on her tray, and finally blotted the worst of the carpets clean with her hair. Finally, she glanced up at Sung for further orders, shyly turning so the swollen, reddened, painful welt on her cheek faced not Sung, but a rather shocked and enraged Boris.

“A clumsy girl, as I am sure you know well Mr. Chekhov.”

Sung’s voice was darkly taunting as if attempting to get a rise out of the man who set across from him.

“Yet she does have a saving grace she is perhaps the most beautiful girl I have ever possessed Boris.”

All pretenses was gone now from Sung’s voice. He and Boris had been rival or years and now he possessed something that his adversary and rival seemed to want. He made a mental note to thank Yuri for this rare opportunity. Her Master paid little attention to Jennie as she licked up the spilled coffee and blotted the carpet clean with her soft golden hair. Rather he preferred to taunt both slave and guest.

“Actually I am thinking of breeding her Boris. I am sure with her youth and beauty I can get three or four stunning little bastards from her before she is no longer pleasing to me and then I am sure that some brothel will pay handsomely for her.”

Slowly it became clear that it was no accident that Sung had bought her. That Yuri had planned very carefully for her sale and to whom she would ultimately sold to.

“Get up girl It is time for your first breeding. I believe you know your stud, a Mr. Yuri Chekhov! He is in the red room and is waiting for you now go.”

There was the subtitle click of a rifles bolt, a none to gentle reminder for Boris to keep his seat. He was helpless as Jennie rose and two guards flanked her to escort her to the man who would take her with the view of leaving her with child. If she did no go willingly then she would be dragged to her fate.

“Boris I understand your brother is a very demanding lover.”

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Jennie once more faced Yuri he was already stripped and waiting for her.

“Tie the bitch to the bed spread eagled.”

When Jennie was bound in place Yuri smiled down on her.

“When I am done with you Bitch you will want no other man ever.”

He slowly came towards her and he cooed,

“This will hurt you more than it will me and when I am done you’ll beg for more.”

Yuri knew better than any other man what both horrified and excited Jennie and now he would use that knowledge to make her breeding a night she would never forget. A night to haunt and excite her for the rest of her life.


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“What do you think Yuri is doing to her now Boris”

Sung taunted . Boris was seizing with anger and yet as things stood he was impudent to do any thing other than sit there and wait for the screams of pain and pleasure that Yuri would rip from Jennie.

Perhaps an hour had passed after Jennie’s first scream and before the shot rang out and the crimson bloom of blood spread across his chest. Boris watched as Sung’s body slumped over, the look of horror and shock in his eyes as he saw Serge holding the smoking rifle.

Now to search Sung’s mansion, to search for were Yuri had Jennie at his mercy. It was another hour before they found the room where Jennie lay naked and bound to the bed. Her gorgeous young body was covered in cum, but there was not another mark on that magnificent young body. It was clear that Boris was not the only man who had enjoyed the helpless girl and if the women’s clothing scattered about the room was any indication she had also been abused and enjoyed by a woman as well.

Mistress Sonya

Serge gasped as he saw the woman’s corset and trembled at what she had said she would do to Jennie if she ever got her hands on the young beauty alone. Boris freed her from her bounds and wrapped Jennie in the soil sheet before sweeping her into his arms.

“I will kill them both Serge. Find Them!”

Jennie was once more heading back to the castle, Boris’s domain, and the very place she had run from and into Yuri’s clutches.



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Boris was sitting having his breakfast when he heard the soft padding of bare feet.

“Yes Miss Taylor.”

Jennie paused, lost for a moment in the swirling darkness inside her mind. Her time in Sung’s household had changed her. She crept to his side and dropped to her knees, ignoring the dull crack when her thin legs met the stone floor. In one well-ingrained move, she settled onto her legs, hands palm-down on her thighs. Since Boris hadn’t asked her a question of given her a direct order she said nothing. Her cheek was still swollen and bruising from the cane blow, but the rest of her was nearly unscathed. In a way, it paled in comparison to the damage Sung had done in Jennie’s mind. As she stared at a point 6 feet away on the floor, her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Unless told otherwise, she would hold that position until sleep was inescapable. Every question she was asked would be answered instantly, with the correct title and respect. Sung had trained her to be like one of his dogs, totally obedient and accepting of whatever was done to her.

After the raid on the castle, Jennie had fought as best she could against Boris’s rescue attempts. His hands still bore faint pink marks where she had scratched him. It had taken both men and a triple dose of sedative stolen from Sung’s hospital facilities to get her into the waiting car. Strangely, once Chekhov Manor loomed, Jennie had calmed and become obedient to the men’s commands. There seemed to be no understanding of hierarchy in her anymore. Jennie would obey any order, from anyone. Both men seemed to understand that Jennie was different now.

Boris was haunted by Jennie’s reaction to her rescue from Sung’s palace, rather than being relieved or grateful for her rescue she had fought Boris tooth and nail. The adorable little golden beauty wailed that she must do as her Master wished. The fact that she had been ganged raped, and that she had been sexually and mentally abused by another woman did not seem to break the bond that Sung had forged when he had brutally broken Young Miss Taylor’s spirit and then molded her into a complying and adoring little sex slave. She now knelt at Boris’ feet, as befits a well trained slave girl, her golden head demurely lowered, yet there was no fire in her once stunning and expressive eyes. She wore her hair up in a tight French braid as Sung had preferred so nothing hid Jennie’s pale alabaster beauty from him. The visible scares had vanished and her soft silken skin was flawless with the exception of the bruise on her cheek form Sung’s blow, yet other scares still existed, the scares to her young innocent soul and her now cowed spirit. Serge had seen her lovingly caress that burse when she was alone in her room as Jennie softly whispered Yes Master Sung, Thank you Master, may your worthless slave have another.. The little eunuch had brought his concerns to Boris but was dismissed with a wave of Chekhov’s hand as he was told all that the girl needed was time.

Boris took a morsel of food from his plate for his little golden slave to eat from his finger tips and then pour some tepid tea into the palm of his hand for her lap up as if she were a favored pet. He marveled that the once rebellious Miss Taylor immediately did as he desired. She looked so adorable so innocently obedient as she genteelly took the offered food from his fingers making sure her teeth never touched his flesh. The tip of her little pink tongue lapped the tea from his palm as if she was a pleasing little Kitty. The silence between them continued so Boris decided to push her to see if he could illicit a response from her.

“Miss Taylor please me with your mouth and tell me how you wished to be used in the dungeon today.”

He knew that Yuri had trained her gorgeous young body to crave pain as well as pleasure, the question is what had Master Sung done to her that had so broken her firry young spirit.
Boris was going to push Miss Jennie Taylor until he knew all that had befallen her in the House of Sung.

Jennie hesitated. Sung had frequently ordered her to amuse him, only to stifle her attempts one after the other until she hit on his personal desire. But Boris hadn’t been specific on where she was to pleasure him, he had only offered her a bite of food and some tea. She lightly took one of his fingers in her mouth and slowly sucked on it, taking her time and treating it as if it were a cock. He pulled back slightly, surprised, then seemed to relax. Jennie continued until he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and neatly dried them on a napkin.

“ I wish to obey your will, sir”

Boris was surprised when Jennie took his fingers in her warm succulent mouth and began to suckle them as if she were giving him head. The little golden goddess was apparently devoted to pleasing him with her mouth and yet her imagination her, and once defiant spirit were gone and it its place was a lovely little porcelain doll that seemed only intent on pleasing him. There was a sensual little pout bowing Jennie’s lips as she huskily cooed.

“ I wish to obey your will, sir”

Boris Chekhov looked down on the sweet golden beauty her palms resting on her thighs her soft eyes demurely down cast as she knelt there in her little teddy nightgown. It seemed that Serge had dressed her to excite his passions and perhaps hers. He laid his napkin aside and rose pushing back his chair to stand towering over the demur little angel.

“Rise Miss Taylor and go to Yuri’s Playroom select a device to be tested on girl. I shall join you directly!”

So she wanted to be told what he desired, Boris very much doubted that this now ferial little porcelain doll knew what she was asking for. Yuri was not the only Chekhov with dark passions if the truth be known, for Boris’s were every bit as dark and demanding as either Yuri’s or Sung’s. Placing the little packet that contained the needle and the gifs he intended to decorate Jennie’s body with Boris made his way to Yuri’s playroom to see which device that his little porcelain doll had chosen.

In the hours to come he would either ignite the spark of her dormant firry sprit or break her in to a thousand shattered pieces. Boris laid out the little packet with the needle and the diamond studs.

“Miss Taylor I am going to pierce your clit.”

Boris held out his hand so Jennie could either demurely submit to being bound to the device she had chosen for her testing or she could find her spirit once more. Either way he would inflict the slow torturous piercing of her delicate nipples on the girl.

Jennie hesitated before rising. During her stay in Sung’s mansion she had almost completely forgotten the floor plan of her old apartment, the plant where she had worked, and Castle Chekhov. She wandered the halls for a while, looking for something to guide her down to the dungeon. While backing out of a doorway that had turned out to be nothing more than a storage closet she felt something warm and soft briefly press to her bare back.

“Jennie! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

The displeasure in Serge’s voice made her stomach turn. Instantly, she dropped hard on her knees and bent forwards until her shins, upper arms and forehead were pressed to the floor in a kneeling pose, arms stretched out in front of her. Heart pounding, she waited for some sign of forgiveness. Instead, a gentle hand closed on her arm and eased her to her feet.

“My god...”

Serge took Jennie’s face in his hands and tilted it to catch the dim light. She was thinner, of course, and poor diet and lack of sunlight showed in her skin. Her fingernails were short and brittle, red welts still showed on her skin, and even her magnificent hair was dull and split-ended. But the most shocking change was in her eyes. Once bright and sparkling, they were now red and dull, constantly pointed at the floor when she was around the men. Sung had broken Jennie, both inside and out.

“I can’t let him do this to you, Jennie. Not right now. “

He led her down into the infirmary and helped her onto a table. Despite his appearance, Serge was quite skilled as a makeshift doctor, and soon Jennie was curled up in a holding cell, wrapped in blankets and eating a balanced meal of lentil stew, chicken, rice and apples, while he pored over the results of a battery of tests. So engaged was he that he only remembered to message Boris about the change of plans when the monitors hooked up to Jennie registered her lapse into sleep.

Serge came to Chekhov and informed him that Jennie would not be joining him in the dungeon. That he Serge forbad it.

” The girl’s mind is in a fragile state Boris if she is pressed I fear she will be broken beyond repair. That this vibrant young creature will be nothing but a mindless shell of conditioned responses a pretty little doll and nothing more.”

Again it seemed that Miss Jennie Taylor was once more slipping through his fingers. Ever sense the day that she had first come into his life she had seemed bound to give herself only to others. The first was his brother Yuri. The more he had tormented the girl, the more she had been drawn to him, had given her self over to not only the pain he brought to her but also, the unimagined pleasure he would rip from her gorgeous young body her screams of pain and ecstasy becoming one till she seemed unable to distinguish between them. Then it was to Sung and the sadistic Mistress Sonya.

Boris ran his fingers through his hair. as he turned to Serge.

“One month Serge you have one month and if Miss Taylor is not fit to serve me and my guests then she will be sold for I will waist no more time with her is that clear.!”

It was not a question but a statement of fact, and the cold edge that his voice took on left no doubt that this was a matter that was not open to discussion.

Serge returned to the broken girl carrying a bowl of soup the first step in the girl’s restoration to health and hopefully sanity.

Jennie glanced up as Serge entered her cell. He had rigged a training DVD to play on a fold-down television while she lay wrapped in blankets on her bed. She had watched with intense interest as a recorded Boris calmly explained the basics, with particular emphasis on trust and communication between couples. She rubbed sleep from her eyes as Serge entered.

“Does that make sense to you? I know it’s a big change from what you were taught. “ Serge gestured at the muted screen, as a pair of actors demonstrated how to check for excessive joint strain in a few of the more exotic bondage positions.

Jennie slid the bowl of soup over to her side of the table, waiting patiently until Serge nodded permission for her to eat.

“Yes Sir. But… It seems too tame, too easy.” She spoke through mouthfuls of soup.

“There’s plenty of time for the harder stuff later.” Serge eased himself down in a chair beside her bed. “We’ll start working on your strength and flexibility tomorrow, if you feel well enough.”

Over the next week, good food and gentle care worked their magic on Jennie. Her hair grew shiny again, and a crude trim from Serge took away the split ends. A hint of blush came back to her cheeks as her skin cleared. Jennie was still in fairly good physical condition, both strong from the physical nature of her work and flexible from her confined sleeping quarters.

However, the worst challenge lay in breaking her conditioning. Jennie had been trained not to eat without permission, to bow or kneel when a man entered the room, and a dozen other small differences from Boris’s rules. Serge worked her carefully, tenderly correcting her when she fell into Sung’s rules. One day they were in the mirrored hall where Yuri had tried to force her to dance. Serge sat in a plush armchair as Jennie practiced serving drinks to imaginary party guests. Jennie had forgotten many things about Castle Chekhov, including, it seemed, the trick mirrors that lined the hall itself.

Chekhov had given Serge a month to work with Jennie, one month for him to have Miss Taylor ready to serve the house of Chekhov or to be sold. The little eunuch set to his task of nourishment and re-indoctrination. The muted DVD screen in Jennie’s cell played a continuously showing of the interactions between a Master and sub. It showed the shattered young beauty, the precautions a Master took with his sub, her nourishment and the necessity for a sub to maintain her body tone and flexibility. The girl seemed to watch with some degree of interest but simply said when asked if she understood;

“Yes Sir. But… It seems too tame, too easy.”

And so began Jennie’s and Serge’s month. Serge’s challenge to bring the girl, first back to health, her gorgeous young body once more toned and flexible, so physically she could meet her Master’s darker pleasures without injury. His second and the more difficult challenge was to break Jennie’s conditioning. If it had just been a matter of breaking the brutal, but very effective conditioning of Master Sung and Mistress Sonya mighty was one thing. Yet as Serge knew all too well Miss Jennie Taylor’s conditioning went back to when she had first arrived at the castle when Yuri had discovered the girl’s dark obsession and need to obey. Yuri had developed in Jennie the need for pain just as compelling as her need for carnal pleasure. Serge had set to work not sure that he could do more than bring the alluring young beauty back to her former health and flawless beauty.



Boris had put Miss Taylor out of his mind Serge would either meet the challenge he had been assigned or not. The more pressing matter was to find a replacement for Yuri. A trainer that could bend and mold the young women that were the stock and trade of the House of Chekhov into the most desirable and obedient sexual slave that money could buy.

Jean Duval had been born and raised in Haiti he was a mountain of a man well muscled, physically intimidating and yet there was a keenness of mind hidden behind that powerful dark ebony façade. His features were unreadable and one could never be sure what the man was thinking or was about to do. Duval moved with the fluid deadly grace of a tiger on the hunt. Boris Chekhov knew that he had found his replacement for Yuri.

Jennie woke up in her room in the basement. Serge had recently deemed her fit enough to leave the infirmary cell and arranged a small comfortable cell for her right by the kitchens. She listened to the sounds of breakfast being made as sunlight filtered into the room. Though her room was well underground, it was supplied with a little light and fresh air through a shaft outside her window. Lying in bed, Jennie took stock of her renewed body. Three weeks of hard work and harder training had put muscle back on her skinny frame, filling her out and subtly emphasizing her feminine curves. Her body was more flexible too, flexible enough to bend into the most unusual and exotic sexual positions. Her skin was silky smooth and hairless, and new highlights shone in her hair. She winced as someone dropped a frying pan in the kitchen. Her breakfast would be ready soon.

Upstairs in the plush Smoking Room, two men sipped fragrant spiced coffees. Jean Duval looked almost cramped in his chair, his powerful frame barely fitting into the wing-back chair. Boris on the other hand lounged comfortably as he waited for his breakfast to arrive.

Boris Chekhov had selected the Smoking room as the scene for the little tableau that was about to enfold, for he had a feeling that it would be as melodramatic as the majority of his encounter with the gorgeous young Miss Taylor. Yet this meeting was to be different for his patience was at an end. He had given Serge one month in which to have Miss Jennie Taylor fit to be a credit to the House of Chekhov and a pleasing little morsel for his sexual pleasure.

Boris’ hands were tented in front of his face as Jennie entered. He was pleased to see that her gorgeous young body was magnificently toned and there was a sparkle in her stunning eyes and her hair shimmered a healthy tawny gold. It seemed as if Serge may have succeeded in his task, yet as he knew from previous experience with Miss Taylor appearances could be very deceiving. Chekhov was surprised at the attire that Serge had chosen for young Miss Taylor, a simple white G-string and tight white corset to highlight the natural sensual curves of her torso. The little eunuch had left Jennie bare foot, and bare legged, so her Master could see that her legs were toned and that her calves had a seductive curve to them.

“You mat serve us our coffee now Miss Taylor!”

Jean Duvall sat quietly, his massive hands resting casually on the arms of the wing-back chair, his posture erect, and very formal. The man’s ebony face was relaxed and unreadable as if an iron mask had been drawn to shield his thoughts and emotions from all. He was as still as midnight and a dark aura seemed to shroud him. Boris Chekhov was relaxed in the Stickly mission lounge chair.

Where the house of Sung would demand that Jennie serve her Master first, the rule of the House of Chekhov was that guests were served first. The simple act of serving coffee would be Jennie’s first test. Boris intensely watched Jennie as she came across the room to where the two men sat. Her movements were fluid and graceful like a young doe.

Duvall saw that same fluid grace, but he also so the skittishness of a young doe in the girl as well. An uneasiness of an individual trying very hard to do everything just so. Jean also noticed the little eunuch in the shadows almost willing the girl to succeed. And yet to Boris, Jennie, and even the very astute Serge, he seemed to pay Jennie little or no attention at all. His eyes caught every sensually seductive move of the girl’s magnificent young body, and a dark desire to have her at his mercy burned within him, for he saw in Miss Jennie Taylor a dark hungering need that few would have believed of her.

“When you have served the coffee Jennie you may remove your corset and come and please me.”

Jennie’s second test. Before Boris had given Serge his month, Jennie had been incapable of using her mind as well as her body to please him. Chekhov had always valued a slave with a quick agile mind, one that could anticipate his needs rather than having to be told each day what he desired. All eyes were now on Jennie, would she pass the test her Master set for her?

Jennie set the tray down quietly on a table well out of the men’s way. Her hands shook as she poured two cups, but steadied under the weight of the smaller tray that carried cream and sugar. Taking the tray on one hand and a mug in the other, she padded over to where the men sat. There was a moment’s hesitation before she set the tray down on the table between the men, then handed the cup to Duval.

In a dim corner of the room Serge’s mouth split into a wide smile. His hours of training had paid off. He had suspected Boris would test her in drink service all along. His last days with her were spend drilling her on how to serve coffee, beer and spirits, how to present them, and how to prepare them below stairs. His eyes watered as Jennie returned with another cup for Boris, and then took up a place between the arms of the men’s chairs.

With slow, sensual movements Jennie stroked her thighs and waist before fingering the clasps running between her breasts to hold the corset shut down the front. She undid the clasps with care and set the folded garment down on the floor. For a moment she stood nearly naked before the men. Boris was watching her intently, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips . Jean simply stared over her right shoulder out the window. In the dim light of the smoking room she couldn’t tell if he was startled or amused by her nakedness. He sat still in his chair, hands wrapped around the steaming fragrant mug. With a slight start she remembered her job. Doing any of her usual favours for Boris seemed grossly inappropriate when there was a strange man in the room. Jennie simply sat on the floor beside him and wrapped her arms around his leg, her cheek resting on his knee.

Boris saw Serge in the dim corner of the room he saw the little eunuch’s smile as Jennie passed her first little test. Chekhov saw that smile broaden as the young golden haired beauty sensually stripped off her corset her trembling fingers closing each clasp, each eye and hook. He watched as the tantalizing curve of her firm young breast came into view and then was bared fully to him as Jennie slip the garment from her lithe young body and laid it aside. The nearly naked beauty’s eyes sought Boris’s sought his approval, the reassurance that she had pleased him before Jennie simply sat on the floor beside him and wrapped her arms around his leg, her cheek resting on his knee. Boris’s hand dropped to the crown of the girl’s golden head his fingers ran through her tawny golden tresses. He savored the feeling as her hair dripped from his finger tips like living spun gold.

“Miss Taylor…….”

The phrase of command flowed softly from her Master’s lips.

“………….this is Monsieur Duval I have engaged him to be Yuri’s replacement as your trainer.”

So this dark ebony giant would take over Yuri’s role in Jennie’s life. Boris knew it was a big change for the flawed and injured Miss to take in. He saw the scowl on Serge’s face as he clung to the shadows in the corner of the room.

“Pay him your reverence as you would me.”

Those simple words let the young golden beauty know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this dark ebony strange now had authority over her as Yuri had and it was hers to obey.

“Ma Cher Jennie……….”

Though the words were different and his voice had a heavy French Caribbean accent, there was no mistaking the edge of command in Duval’s voice. His huge dark ebony hand gently cupped Jennie’s chin as he lifted her gaze to meet his own. His eyes were hauntingly dark. There was a swirling depth to them, as if one was looking into the abyss, both terrifying and seductive erotic at the same time. Eyes that called to the darkest passions, in the most hidden corner of your being. Eyes that bared your soul to him.

Both men waited for the young golden beauty to pay her reverence to Duval as he extended his right boot so she might kiss the toe.


“Serge would you show M. Duval the training room and dungeon.”

Monsieur Chekhov there is no need to take Serge from his duties I am sure that Mademoiselle Taylor will be more than willing to show me herself.”

Jennie glanced at Duval, confused. Why was he holding his foot out like that? It wasn’t dirty. In fact, his shoes were supple and highly polished. A hand closed on the back of her head, roughly pushing her down until her lips mashed awkwardly into the right toe. Her scalp burned as Duval pulled her back up to look him in the eye.

“ I see I have a lot of work to do on you, Jennie. Come along, show me to the dungeon.”

There was no anger or malice in his voice, for he knew that Boris didn’t much like foot worship and wouldn’t have taught it to such a scarred young woman. There was annoyance that Jennie hadn’t grasped his cues, and a resolution to make her understand them in the future though.

As they left the smoking room Duval shifted his grip to hold Jennie firm by her upper arm, simultaneously putting her in a position to lead and restraining her from moving too fast for his liking. Jennie led him around to the south dungeon, which was oddly enough not a dungeon at all. It was a sunny room on the main floor mostly lit by huge windows and intended for holding play parties. Jennie chose it as it was the only dungeon not specifically intended for one person. As Duval stepped in behind her she could almost hear him scanning the room, taking in the spanking benches, stocks, padded tables and other bondage furniture that was carefully arranged around the spacious room. Duval steered her to the small bar with several scattered chairs and overstuffed armchairs that served refreshments to partygoers. She turned to him, questioning, but he simply pointed to a chair opposite his, motioning for her to sit rather than kneel.

“ I want to get to know you as a person Jennie. There will be plenty of time to train you later. ”
And despite her fear of this new man, Jennie told him everything. Starting at the morning before her capture by Boris, she worked her way through her memories of Sung, mistress Sonya, Boris’s frustrations with her, her paralysing fear of close spaces, Yuri and his obsession over teaching her to dance, and her experiences with electricity. With a little prodding she expanded on details, emptying her soul to this man she had known for only a few minutes. The lunch gong sounded as she finished, her eyes red with unshed tears. Duval rose, placed a strong hand on her shoulder and led Jennie back to her room next to the kitchens for lunch, a nap, and as he strongly suspected, a good cry. As he opened her cell door, Jennie swore she could feel his soft breath on the back of her neck, though what he said she did not know.