Her new life(closed)

[Wolk]

OOC: This story is closed for me and the lovely fallenupright.

IC:

The tropical island of Arosia was one of those places the world didn't care about. It was remote, and lost among similar such islands, ruled by dictators, juntas, communist fanatics, crime syndicates, or just whoever had the biggest gun. Technically under the jurisdiction of a fairly large country, this island, like many others, were not actually policed, nor visited by any navy, and by now was slowly transformed into a private little territory, where its czar was the supreme ruler and no law except the one he made applied. The country in question was also corrupt, and with money flowing into the pockets of the right people, it provided diplomatic protection to most of the things the czar of Arosia did.

Ships went missing, even in this modern day and age, and then goods from them suddenly appeared on black markets of many countries. Arms suddenly appeared in large quantities in places where nobody wanted to sell them. The people who needed killing were killed, people who needed bribing were bought, and the illegal business stood strong.

The czar of this syndicate was one James Stevens, but he will not be the person of interest in our story. It is his son, the 24-year-old Richard Stevens that was about to receive a gift from his father.

The position of Richard was fully that of a prince. He could have anything he wanted, and among other things, plenty of colourful, busty girls in extremely revealing clothes were fighting for his attention. He took advantage of them a few times, but only at the call of his young, oversexed body. He was cold to them otherwise, and no relationships formed. "They are fake," he often told his friends. "They look like bimbos off the screens of Hollywood flicks. No character, no beauty, just a slut." To that the friends usually answered that they were perfectly happy with having such 'sluts' in their beds, and the conversation was driven into jokes.

The word, however, got to James Stevens, who knew everything that went on on his island. He was concerned about his son's lack of interest in the opposite sex, and had it arranged that Richard would have delivered to him exactly the girl he was interested in - the simple, charming, girl from next door, unspoiled by the modern drives to look like a slut and to sleep with everything that moves. And James picked the methods to achieve that, which were consistent with his other business operations.

Meanwhile, Richard was completely ignorant of the plan. He studied, helped his father conduct business, hung out with his friends - the offspring of his father's closest leuitenants, who also lived on the island in luxury. He surfed the high waves, and relaxed on the beach, getting his perfectly sculped bronze muscular body even more tan than it already was. The sun turned his hair from natural fair to almost blonde, and gave him a winded look. Although, it did little to change the color of raven-black hair on his chest.

He was spending days in thoughts of whether he belonged on this island at all. He had untold power here, and untold riches, but there wasn't one woman he would be seriously interested in. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life with only whores in his bed every night? He didn't want that, but he couldn't quite bring himself to drop all the business he was handling here. It was a fascinating process, a game more so than means to survival now. His father could retire now, pay any kind of taxes any government wanted on his assets, and still be one of the richest men, spending the rest of his life in luxury, and yet he and his leuitenants continued aggressively pursuing their business, strengthening their position, establishing themselves as a dominant force for no other reason than the desire to dominate, to be the top dogs not only on this island, but in other places too. And with them this passion was inherited by Richard. He couldn't leave. Not yet.

 

[fallenupright]

The girl looked out her window at the darkening sky. It was looking like today wasn't going to be as nice as the weather man had predicted earlier this week - but then, even on a sunny day, there was always that chance of a storm. She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary on the street - though it appeared Ms. Falkner across the street had one of her many men over again last night, a strange car parked infront of her house. She didn't pay it much attention - at least twice a week there was a man over there, it was a well known fact around the town that Ms Faulkner... was very popular with the gentlemen.

She shook her head and returned to her business of getting ready for work. She worked fulltime at a diner in town, to pay for her school. She slipped on her ugly green buttoned up shirt and plain black pants, tying the apron around her waist. She moved to the mirror, and pulled her wavy brown hair into a ponytail, high on her head. Some lipgloss, and she was ready for work. But she paused to appraise herself in the mirror a moment. She looked younger than her 20 years, with freckles spattered across her nose, and the lack of any makeup. Most mistook her for about 16, or 17... but the truth was the girls at that age often looked older than her, with their fancy outfits and makeup. The girl smiled at herself in the mirror, shrugging off her plain appearance. She was pretty happy with herself. Her complexion was clear, her skin tanned lightly. Her height was... well, short, but she'd accepted and even embraced that. Her body was proportional - she wasn't built tiny. She had the build of a farmers daughter, sturdy. Her hips were wide, her waist was small. Her legs were the legs of a runner - no long slender legs, but strong, short and well muscled. Her chest was her biggest problem, as she saw it. It was bigger than it should be for a girl of her height... Once, she'd naively answered a question on what size bra she wore in a game of truth or dare. She'd been informed that it was impossible... only strippers had measurements like that. Now, she was sure that was an exaggeration, but the comment did little to make her feel more comfortable with that part of her body. She never dressed to emphasize her chest, and did what she could to minimize it. Yet, still guys liked to look there. It made her very uncomfortable, but she figured it was just a fact of life.

Her father had once told her she had "child bearing hips" just like her mother. It wasn't meant as an insult... the girl's father had loved her mother deeply, and had been heartbroken when she died of cancer 3 years ago. A factory worker, he'd lapped into a deep depression and lost the job he had worked many years to get. Having moved to a different factory, he had a steady job again... but made much less money than he once had. They struggled, but got by.

The numbers on her watch said she was going to be late. She swore under her breath and grabbed the jacket that sat on her chair, running for the door. The engine of her old clunker started, thankfully... and off to work she was going. Arriving there, she parked the car out behind the building, and started walking down the alley. Employees were supposed to use the back door. She heard the click of footsteps following her. She walked a little faster, not looking back. The diner was the last in the row of a number of businesses... The footsteps quickened as well. She turned her head to look and saw a man in a black suit...

 

[Wolk]

The man in a black business suit and sunglasses somewhat resembled your typical Agent Smith from a well-known movie. He stood strict, emotionless, sure of himself, as if on guard for the rest of the world. While the girl was looking back at him, she nearly smashed into another suited figure that appeared in front of her. The figure took her by the arm firmly.

"FBI," he announced, and the agent who followed her flashed a little wallet-sized leather book with those three letters engraved in yellow and some document-looking papers inside.

"We'd like to ask you some questions." It wasn't expressed as a wish, wasn't asked for her. Rather, the man was just predicting the future as if he knew it for certain. Her other arm was firmly taken into the second agent's hands, and the two of them led her towards the curb of the road. Interestingly, her cooperation in this was barely required at all. The strong suited men more or less just carried the small woman and she only had to move her feet in time, to avoid having them drag on the ground.

"We warned your boss that you wouldn't be working today, miss. You will be compensated nonetheless."

As if on queue, a large black luxury sedan with heavily tinted windows pulled in. The door opened and she was put onto the back seat, sandwitched between the agents.

The ride was as silent as it was long. Both agents seemed like statues as the car passed one part of the city after another. It may have begun arousing slight suspicions that the ride took so long. After all, couldn't they just take her to the nearest police department, or asked their questions right in the car for that matter? But before there was time for serious suspicions to form, the car turned onto a checkpost. The guard only nodded after seeing the car and driver, and raised the metal bar, opening enterance. "Port Authority" was clearly engraved on the back of his jacket. That must have been suspicious.

"I have a confession to make", the agent on her right said in an emotionless voice as he dug something out of his pocket. It was a plastic bag with a napkin inside of it. He opened it and took it out into his hand, making odd chemical aroma go around the car.

"We're not FBI," he said matter of factly, and before she could even get scared at his words, he pressed the napkin to her mouth and nose. The chemical was impossible to resist, and several moments later she was out. The men then opened windows to make the noxious vapours go away.

********

The chemical did its job as it always does. The slumber it induced was deep and long. Twenty four hours was very usual, and some people spent a lot longer. Whatever time her individual body was going to be under the weather, by the time she woke up she would find herself in a container on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The container was lit very dimly with a single small lightbulb. There was a mattress on which she was placed, laying by the wall. An office-like water cooler with two spare jugs for it, a pile of military Meal Ready to Eat packages in plain brown paper, a portable toilet, and... a pile of dirty magazines.

Outside, waves could be heard, as well as metal creeking of the ship, and inventive curses of the crew.

 

[fallenupright]

The man stopped as she looked at him, and she kept walking. She walked right into something - when she looked up she realized it was another man, in a dark suit. Where had he come from? She'd just been looking forward and he hadn't been there. She'd been about to scream when they announced they were FBI. She protested at their rough handling, asking where she was being taken... when she was put in the car, she forlornly realised that there was nobody on the street to witness he being dragged off.

She couldn't possibly imagine why the FBI would want her. The whole ride, she insisted they must have the wrong girl, that she didn't know anything that would be of any interest to the police, let alone the FBI. The men were silent, ignoring her protests. She was working herself into a very worried state. Nothing seemed right about this, and the ride was far too long... where were they taking her? She'd been in the car for an hour, perhaps... when the announcement came - they were not FBI. Just as her stomach dropped - in realization that she was probably now going to be killed or something... a hand clamped over her mouth and after a seconds worth of struggle, her eyes drifted shut and she drifted off into the world of sleep.

When she awoke, her eyes were bleary. She wiped them with her hands as the world slowly came back into focus. She immediately felt sick. The rocking and groaning of the... room she was in was not familiar. She'd never been on any boat larger than a motorboat before. Before she even had time to think, she put her hand over her mouth and ran for the toilet.

Out came stomach acid, which burned her throat... When she was finished being sick, she stood up and surveyed her surroundings. Small room, water, food, toilet, matress. The was no clock or calender, no way to tell how long she slept.... other than the fact that she'd thrown up nothing, which meant it probably wasn't the same day she last remembered, as she'd eaten then.

Her first thought was that she had to get out... they couldn't be taking her away! It wasn't legal, it wasn't right! She ran for the door, even though her legs and arms felt like they were made of lead and started banging on it. "Hey! Let me out! You can't do this! People are going to miss me! This has to be some kind of joke, or you have the wrong girl!" she yelled to whomever might be listening. It didn't seem like anyone was. She kept on going until her voice became hoarse, and her hands had become too sore and bloodied to keep banging on the door. Finally, she collapsed in a heap on the matress and cried silently. What else could she do?

 

[Wolk]

People had been listening. Mercenaries were guarding the ship, and its sailors were also not the most honest folk in the world, working for the kingpin who had her kidnapped. They weren't sitting right by the container's door, of course, but one of them heard her screams as he was walking by on his normal patrol route. For a while, he didn't pay her much attention, but it eventually grew to annoy the man and he unlocked the metal door, entering into her container.

In the doorframe she could see a massive muscular man in green camouflage pants and a plain army-green tank top. He had a chain of large machinegun bullets over his shoulders and around his waist. The machinegun itself was in his right hand, which was so strong that he held the big weapon like it was a pistol. As he entered his face became visible as well: fearsome, black, with angry eyes and thick, tightly pursed lips. His head was shaved, which only added to the image.

The first thing he did was grab her by the neck with his free hand. He lifted her up to her feet and held her against the wall. In one hand the massive mercenary had more than enough strength to completely dominate the small woman, or kill her, if he decided to tighten that grip.

"What the fuck are you yelling for, bitch?!" The roughneck barked at her in a sergeant's voice. He was good at intimidation, and certainly had intimidated much stronger characters than a nice, good-hearted girl.

"You wanted attention? Well, I fucking heard you. You happy?" He shook her, slamming her against the metal wall of the container.

"I don't like no mothafucking noise when I'm walking. I'm an inte-fucking-lectual," the animal-like creature declared, "I like to think, and you bitch are throwing me off!" Then his voice changed from yelling to a slightly more normal one, although it had a definite threatening undertone: "So you're gonna stay nice and quiet here until you're off the fucking ship, or next time I hear you, I'm gonna come and shut you up for good! Got it?" He scoffed.

"Fucking dumb bitch, interrupting a philosopher," he mumbled more than audibly enough for her to hear as he walked back out of the container and locked it again.

Ahead was a long four-day trip, during which the lovely prisoner would have little to do but look at the pile of naughty magazines, or challenge the guard, if she still thought that was a good idea.

Meanwhile, the ship continued onto its destination, hundreds of containers securedly stacked on its deck and deep in its belly. Not all of them held prisoners, far from it! There was other contraband, there was even legitimate cargo.

Days dragged on and nothing seems to have been happening at all. The same sounds of wave after wave crashing over the sturdy steel hull, the same tapping of the guards' footstepps, and curses of sailors. It was difficult to tell inside of her container if it was day or night, since sun only slightly peeked into it through tiny openings, and since the insides of it were always lit, it was hard to see light coming from outside the metal walls.

It was also unbearably hot. The ship was definitely moving south, and a metal container under direct tropical sun was not the most pleasant place to be. The prisoners always were soaked in sweat, and consuming the water left for them at record pace. This was exactly why there was so much of it left.

By the fourth day, when the food left in the container was running out, the guards' steps approached the door again. Two of them walked in, the big black mercenary she saw before, and another one in a similar outfit, but somewhat less imposing. The two of them didn't answer any questions, or otherwise interacted with their prisoner, with the exception of ordering her a quick: "up" as they each grabbed her under the arm and pulled or carried her where they wanted.

She was led out of the container and through the ship's upper deck. In its superstructure, through narrow corridors, they brought her to a room with several showers, which was empty at the moment. The second man handed her a bar of soap, brush and toothpaste, a towel, and a fresh change of clothes: a white T-shirt and a knee-length skirt.

"You got fifteen minutes," the first guard informed her, and they left the room, closing the metal door behind them.

 

[fallenupright]

After the guard came in and threatened her, the girl made a point to be quiet. She still cried often, but she did so silently. The days dragged by and she tried to sleep as much as possible, but the heat made it hard. She drank lots of water, and ate when she felt hungry. The first day was the worst, seasickness kept her running for the toilet, and she felt sore from being grabbed by the guard. When her stomach finally settled, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait for whatever lie ahead...

The only good thing about her situation was the fact that they hadn't killed her. Perhaps there was hope. Some days after the ordeal had begun, the food began to run low. She hoped they would bring more - or that the lack of food meant that they had nearly reached their destination. When the guards entered her room, she was laying on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. She offered no protest to them bringing her with them, and had no thoughts of escape. She was on a ship - where would she go?

They gave her what she needed to clean herself. For that she was grateful... 15 minutes was such a short time... she wished she could shower forever. Sweat was washed off, her hair was cleaned... teeth brush. She felt much better when the shower was through. She brushed out her hair the besdt she could, sruveying herself in the mirror. She'd dropped a few pounds over the voyage... had a few old bruises from her rough handling, other than that she still looked like herself.

The clothes were plain, but they fit well enough. She wondered what they did with her old stuff, but decided it didn't matter. They were hot and sweaty, and probably worthy of the burn pile by now. She was smoothing down the t-shirt, wishing they'd given her undergarments when the guards came back. She guessed her 15 minutes was up. At least she was dressed... she wouldn't have enjoyed having the guards watch her dress, being quite modest by nature.

 

[Wolk]

The returning guards took her outside once again. Now they weren't quite as rough. Although she didn't know it, she was going to be handed off soon, and the mercenaries didn't want her to look more violated than they could help. They sat her down right onto the hot metal deck by a container, and lit up cigarettes, waiting.

"Think cap'n's gonna give us a bonus for her?" One of them asked the other. His friend just shrugged. "He's getting a big payment for this, I hear. Something special about her." He nodded at the girl. "What are you, a rich man's daughter," he grinned. "Why'd they pay so much money for you?"

"Well, she is pretty cute," the other guard noted, checking her out shamelessly. "I'd do her."

"Idiot, 'do her' is cheap. Nobody'd pay this kind of money for... There!" A black point was now clearly visible in the distance against the bright blue sky. The chatter stopped, and from somewhere two more men appeared, one of them older and bearded, having that sea wolf look about him.

They waited, and the dot grew into a helicopter, which quickly approached the ship, circled around, and gently touched down on her deck. The blades slowed down and stopped, and from within the black flying beast came two men, one dressed in a business suit and another looking much like the mercenary guards, who had her so far.

The suited man came forward, exchanged a few words with the sea wolf, and approached the girl. He inspected her, nodded in satisfaction, then signalled for her to be taken away into the helicopter.

After an hour-long ride, which felt even shakier than the ship's deck, an island appeared ahead of them. It grew, and soon individual palm trees were possible to notice. The helicopter flew over the jungle, camps and wild tracks, until it finally reached a large, expansive walled compound, with white walls and beautiful architecture. It looked to all the world like a lovely palace, and the gardens that adorned it were just breathtaking.

She didn't get too much time to admire the architecture, however. The helicopter touched down and she was whisked away once again, this time inside of the palace. There, after many long corridors and confusing turns, she was finally put into a room.

The place she was left in was no simple waiting room. It was clearly designed for living: a small kitchen, a couch, a large TV set and other electronics. Carpets and furniture looked very nice, and more expensive than what you'd see in a normal dwelling. There was a simple door, which led to another room - the bedroom, which was connected to a bathroom through yet another door. The closet was open and full, most items looking very close to her size, oddly. It was as if somebody picked them out for her, which they had.

The door she was brought through looked very sturdy, and had good locks... which closed from the outside. The windows, although very large and beautiful, with a wonderful view of the garden, had strong steel bars built into them, camouflaged inside of a windowframe. They opened, but only just enough to let in air and sounds of tropical birds singing. It was, for all purposes, a golden cage, but it didn't quite feel like prison to most people.

In this cage she was left undisturbed for another hour, when the sun started to go down. It was then that the door opened, and two men entered. One of them, whom she had seen before on the helicopter, was James Stevens, and another was Richard. Though, of course, she didn't know their names yet.

 

[fallenupright]

She listened to the men talk, but didn't answer the question. She didn't really feel that they cared for an answer. Inside, she was furious. PAID? She'd been paid for, like some animal? That wasn't right, or legal... She wasn't for sale, to be paid for. And why her? She was just a regular girl. Worked, planned on going to school one day... nothing special about her. She wasn't beautiful, rich, or expecially talented. She watched the dot in the sky get closer, and realized it was a heliocopter. First it was ships, and then heliocopters? There really was big money going on, and try as she might she couldn't figure out for the life of her why she was involved.

The girl put her head in her hands, and waited for whatever lie ahead. When she was put on the chopper she sat still, and kept her head down. The ride was bumpy, and left her feeling ill... but all in all it was a much better experience than the ship. And, at the very least... it was a short ride. She was pushed to her feet again, prodded into what looked like a palace. On an iland in the middle of the ocean. It was now the feeling of helplessness really settled in - she couldn't get away... nobody was listening to her. Maybe once she met whomever she was here to see... they would realize what a huge mistake they had made. And perhaps, she thought, just a bit contemptuously... all the men who had participated in her kidnapping would be made to pay for their mistake. She'd get to go home...

She was left alone in the room - it was a nice room. She explored it with some interest, first of course checking all the possible exits. Of course, it was secure. She wasn't getting out. The first interesting thing she found was the clothes - all her size, all expensive and brand new. Most of the styles were ones she had never considered - revealing, tight, short... She browsed the clothing for a while, but quickly grew bored. After all, it wasn't hers... she would be sent home.

Sighing, she turned on the TV and watched whatever came on with little interest, waiting for something else to happen. The door opened, and she switched the television off, looking and waiting for whomever it was to come over. One of the men she recognized from the heliocopter. The other looked like her could be a relative. Her eyes narrowed, and she waited for them to speak. She didn't trust herself not to just start yelling and swearing at them, so she held her tounge and waited for one of them to speak.

 

[Wolk]

"Why are we here, father?" The younger man broke the silence. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

The older man grinned, holding his head proudly and jestured towards the girl: "Her!"

Now the son, too, brought his attention to the girl. She was pretty, although she looked rather distressed. He gave her a small courteous smile and nodded as a greeting.

"Who is she?" He inquired of his father.

The man answered, as if it was obvious and the question was stupid: "she's your slave."

For a while the room fell silent. Richard was rather stunned by it. Not by the fact that sexual slavery existed, he knew that quite well, but that his fathe would see fit to present him such a 'gift' without even asking.

"Father," he said softly, but persuasively. "I don't want a slave." It was clear that the man was strong-willed and authoritarian, but also knew his place, which was below his suit-clad father.

The comment seemed to have frustrated the older man. His face turned angry and his fists clenched.

"You were always the one saying that none of the bitches around you were good enough. They're just sluts, you said, and I want a nice good girl next door. So here! I got you what you wanted." He pointed to the girl again. "All nice and sweet and sexy. All yours. Fuck her however you want. And I don't want to hear any of that 'I don't want to' now, Richard!"

The younger man stood silent, his lips tight. He knew it was pointless to object.

"Now go do her," the older man ordered. "Be a fucking man, son. And if I think for one moment that you're a faggot, I'm gonna kill you myself!"

Finally, Richard found something to say, that wouldn't cause a bigger scandal and steer things in a better direction.

"Father, could you leave us alone?" He asked firmly.

Interpreting this in his own way, the older man grinned and nodded: "That's more like it!" He exited and the door closed behind him.

Richard spent a few moments collecting himself, then turned to the girl.

"I'm sorry about all this." He tried to give her a comforting smile, but it didn't look all that great. "What's your name?" He sat across from her.

 

[fallenupright]

Slave? She was a slave? What the hell was wrong with that man? Slavery was illegally! Officially condemned by the United Nations. Hell, he could get charged with crimes against humanity for keeping slaves... She wasn't sure she was supposed to have heard that, but she couldn't help a sound of indignation from coming out before she caught it.

When the younger man sat down and spoke to her, she frowned. She couldn't hold in in any longer.
"Sorry for what? For having me grabbed in an alley? Or for drugging me, putting me on a ship? For me being threatened by a large black man? For locking me up? WHat exactly are you sorry for, because I want to know what I'm supposed to think here! You can't do this to people - I have a family, a life, a job! Just because you have some money doesn't mean you can get whatever you want, and sorry doesn't quite cut it!" she practically shouted. Her grayish blue eyes had darkened, becoming like the clouds in a storm. She was literally on the edge of her seat, looking like she was ready to kill him.

Then she stopped. She wasn't going to let herself be less than human any longer.
"My name is Chase Whittaker and I won't be anyones slave." she paused, and stood up.

Just looking at him was making her more angry. She stormed into the bedroom area and stood looking out the window. It was too bad that she was here, held against her will... the scenery looked beautiful. She assumed the man would either follow her or leave, and while staring out the window she listened to see which it would be.

 

[Wolk]

Richard listened allowing her to finish everything she wanted to say uninterrupted. She's been in a position of shutting up long enough now, he imagined, as none of the guards or slavers would want to hear what she had to say. Now it was time to allow her to vent.

It was sad to hear what had been done to her, and he imagined she wasn't telling even a tenth of it all. Richard was helping to run a massive criminal cartel. He knew what kinds of things went on on the ground as a result of his and his father's orders, but it never bothered him nearly as much as it did today. Usually, the people who got mistreated deserved it, or wouldn't be missed. Those kidnapped into sexual slavery were usually foreigners from less developed countries, people with completely different cultures, whom he didn't understand, and so didn't miss as much. Or they were drunks, dopeheads, alcoholics, whatever. But now his father had searched hard and found the one wonderful girl that looked just like what he always dreamed about... and proceeded to throw her under the cruel steel grinder of his criminal machine. It was disgusting, on some level.

He let her have a few moments alone in the bathroom, then followed in.

"I'm not sorry for any of that," he told her. "Those people who handled you, they just did their job, as harsh as it sounds. I'm sorry that I caused my father to think it's a good idea to take you in the first place."

He started thinking. Something had to be decided about this all. He had many options, one worse than another. Letting her go wasn't an option at all. Nobody would release her after what she saw. Saying he wanted nothing to do with her was iffy. There was no way of knowing what they'd do with her after that. She could be put to some dirty job, or she could be throws to the mercenaries for their fun. Or something even worse. No, he didn't want to try her luck there. Then she stays as his slave. He can't refuse to touch her then. It would be a massive hit on his reputation and standing, which was everything in a criminal organization. His father threatened to kill him over it, and Richard hadn't the faintest doubt that the man was serious and would do it in a blink of an eye. There was only one way.

"Chase," he said softly. "Sorry or not, I can't change what happened. The question that should be worrying you more is what happens next." He let her catch it, hoping to cool her head and make her listen more attentively.

"You can debate the morality and legality of it all later, but you're a slave now. It means that you do everything your owner says, and if you do disobey the owner can apply any kind of punishment at all to you until you are made to obey. And it does happen. Always. And always works." He paused a bit longer. "So, please, Chase, don't be stupid about this."

 

[fallenupright]

"I won't be a slave." Chse said stubbornly. She had never been a passive person. She was strong willed and independent - never the kind of child that took orders. She's questioned everything and gotten more spankings and groundings than she could remember.

She turned to face him, looking up at him with an expression of contempt. "Don't be stupid? Do I look stupid to you? You think I'm some bimbo that will just fall into your lap? Listen to what you say, believe you? No, thats not happening. Now, you may think you have the answers, that pretending to be nice will make me give in..." she shook her head and looked at him for a long moment, her eyes growing more intense, and the expression on her face darkening even more.

A million thoughts raced through her head - she wasn't sure exactly what she could do, or would do... but she wasn't just going to give in. They could do whatever they wanted with her, but she wasn't going to take this lying down. She worked up the nerve to do something right now. She spit in Richard's face and then pushed angrily past him.

"You think you can have me? I don't." she said. She expected she probably would have made him angry by now, but she didn't care. What did he expect? Nobody in her position would understand, and only someone weak would just accept it. In her mind, at the moment she would rather die than live her life as a slave, subject to the will of this... boy. She decided he wasn't a man. A man, if he was truly sorry would stand up for her, not just accept it. No, he wasn't a man.

She stormed toward the kitchen, looking for something, in the drawers. The search was frustrating, though. The knives were all butter knives, no good. There wasn't anything deadly to be found. Apparently somebody had thought ahead... she started throwing the utensils on the ground as she sorted, metal crashing against the tile floor.

 

[Wolk]

Richard was not used to being talked to in this manner, let along spat at. People usually trembled before him, or were respectful, or were seductive and persuasive, trying to use him somehow to get what they wanted. But never like this. What could he do? Leave everything because he couldn't bring himself to hurt her. No. That would be surrender. Leaving aside what it would make him look like even, it would be surrender before his own feelings. He cared for this girl, didn't he, he asked himself. Then how could he just walk away and let others decide her fate. Knowing what those 'others' were like, he couldn't!

The man who came out and followed her from the bathroom was not the caring one that entered. He had fire in his eyes and his lips were emotionless. Firmly grasping her by the wrists, he wrestled the small girl away from the kitchen easily. Back in the living room, he threw her onto the couch roughtly face-first, then descended down on her. He pressed her down into the soft coverings by resting his elbow on her back, then flipped up her skirt.

Without saying a word, he began hitting her bottom hard, loud slapping sounds flying all over and filling the room. His hand left pink marks on her gentle pale skin, but he did not soften, going at it again and again. She could do little against the much larger man, couldn't get away without doing something very inventive, and that was exactly the calculation. She was in a position where he could punish her as much as he wanted, and the point was being carried on the flat end of his stinging palm.

 

[fallenupright]

"Ow! What the hell are you doing?" she asked him, her voice muffled because her face was half in the couch cushions. She was surprised at his tactics - she hadn't gotten a spanking since she was 10, or so. He thought he had her down - that he was punishing her? She took a deep breath. The hand hurt, but the pain wasn't such that it couldn't be ignored. She didn't struggle, rather she let her body be still.

Her breathing was even, and after her initial protest she didn't make a sound. She was hoping to catch him off guard... even a little less pressure from his elbow and she was sure that she could slip her leg down to the ground. Use it to kick - push him away, hurt him... whatever.

The fact was she was stuck right now with little she could do, but her mind was working. She'd been in enough tight spots to know there was always a way out, you just had to find it. She was sure that he would realize that things were not going to plan, that a little show of strength wasn't going to do much to change her opinion. No, she wasn't that easily subdued.

 

[Wolk]

Richard continued hitting her, on the surface appearing emotionless. It was not something he particularly enjoyed doing. He had no problem beating or hurting other people, but this girl was just the kind he adored, and it was a sin against his own inner nature to slap her, hurt her. The punishment wasn't so much about pain as it was about humiliation and making a point.

Finally, he released his hold on her. She wasn't broken. He didn't expect her to be. Intead, he wanted her to listen and to realize. She was thrown back and pinned down to the couch next and he was no top of her. SHe was by no means completely secured, only enough for him to start talking.

"Listen to me, damn it!" He demanded. "Don't you realize where you are? You can fight me off, maybe you can even make me drop this and leave, and then what? You're just gonna get a stronger, meaner guy in here. They will break you eventually. And then they're gonna use you how THEY want." He jumped off her, leaving the girl unexpectedly free.

"I don't want to fight you." He said firmly. "Get it?"

 

[fallenupright]

She found herself free sooner than she expected - she didn't even need to fight. She glowered a moment, pulling her skirt down. She stood back up and circled him - like an animal circling it's prey. There was hatred in her eyes - it was plain to see. She had a moment to gather her thoughts before she started her attack. It was verbal rather than physical.

"Don't fight me then. Bring in the bigger, meaner guy. At least he might have some guts. You want to come in and apologize, throw your weight around a little, make yourself feel better. Fine, you did it. I'm not a child, I do understand what you are saying. Apparently I'm a slave now - I can't get away. I'm in the middle of the fucking ocean... but I'm not stupid. I can tell you are important, and damned if I know why a fucking spineless little boy would be important in what is clearly some sort of criminal enterprise... but I know you could find a way out, but you don't want to lift a finger and put anything on the line." she taunted him.

She paused for a moment and swallowed hard. Her temper was up now and she was probably going to regret this - but she kept on going.

"You think I'll be broken? Why don't we test it out? Have the guts to try it for yourself, or bing that bigger man in here. He'd be refreshing, I've had enough of your slimy ass." she informed him, turning away. With as much composure she could manage, she started to walk away, towards the bathroom. She had no idea how he was going to respond, but she didn't peg him as being someone who was used to this kind of resistance - he was probably used to having things handed to him.

In fact, this was probably the first time he'd ever been challenged to this extent. She would put money on it, if she had any right now. She reached the bathroom without event, looking into the mirror. Her face was red, her eyes dark and her hair was messy. She looked in the drawer under the sink and found a brush, starting to brush her hair.

 

[Wolk]

I'm only doing this to protect her, he tried to convince himself. It isn't really hurting her, only protecting her from a bigger hurt. That was until she went on with her tirade. Then Richard did something he wasn't proud of. He was always taught, always practiced that teaching, that anger is the resort of the weak. By acting in anger, a man turns predictable, vulnerable. He rolled much worse insluts off his skin before. But this time it was different somehow.

Chase may have noticed the change in his eyes. The jokes were over. She was going to bend now, or fight and be broken, his eyes said.

She was caught firmly by her lucious hair, which he jerked roughly back, pulling her into the living room. There, he threw her on the back and slapped her, a loud, stinging slap. He has never hit a woman before, always considering it below himself. But somehow, it didn't feel bad at all this time. He had sunk into anger deeply enough for it not to hurt.

The hairbrush was nearly useless in her hands, as its hits just bounced off him, causing only pain, which his anger made unnoticable. He wrestled it away, able to take it with relative ease from her hands. Then he hit her back with it, on the side of her buttock - once, twice.

He was nothing like the the man who tried to subdue her before. This time the muscular body was led by a fire within, and the difference was about as drastic as between an army constrained by politicians back home, and one bent on revenge and righteousness.

Groaning like an animal, he turned her over, roughly shoving her face into the couch once again. This time her ass was beaten by the brush, and not a single cell in his body held his hand back. The stinging of the heavy object was far more than what came from his hand. But he wasn't satisfied with that either.

Straddling her back backwards, he was sitting on her with his weight, diallowing her a chance to get up or turn. Her skirt was raised again, and this time, he didn't just spank, or even hit her with the brush. Instead, the brush was turned, the long, hard handle like a pole in his hand. This pole was pressed roughly against her rosebud, for all her attempts to wrestle away and closer her cheeks. It didn't help, and at this point neither would the pleas and submission. The handle of the hairbrush was shoved further forward roughly, entering her anus, forcing its way in, whether it was comfortable or horribly painful for her.

The hairbrush in his hand became the instrument of domination. He read her body's pain, and cruelly maximized it until she would let off her struggling just slightly. And the moments that happened, the pain suddenly lessened just a bit as well. But not by much. Her poor little ass was still brutally violated, again and again, to tears and beyond.

 

[fallenupright]

She fought back, punching, kicking, clawing. Whatever parts of him were in reach, but he didn't pay her any mind. And then, he turned her over on her back again. She felt the end of the brush against her backside. She willed herself not to cry out, to beg him not to do it... She hadn't expected it to go this far - well, not with him. Slapping, hitting, that was to be expected. Being violated this way... with a hair brush, no she hadn't expected that. It was painful, to be sure. The pain, however wasn't as bad as the humiliation.

She, through sheer force of will didn't utter a sound. She struggled - she couldn't help that, her body betrayed her in that... but she wouldn't let her a sound leave her lips. Tears ran down her cheeks as he continued the torture.

Torture was what it was - but she was not easily moved. She'd made up her mind that she wasn't going to give in, and she wouldn't. She fought hard to even out her breathing, to concentrate on breathing deeply, and finding the place in her mind to escape the pain. She would find that place and stop struggling, being still... but again and again he jerked her out of it, allowing her no peace. She wanted to give in, for it to end...

But no, she couldn't see giving in being the better alternative. Giving in would be hurting her soul - breaking her will... and that would leave more scars than any pain he was giving her... No, it would take more to break her. He could make her bleed and cry, but she wasn't giving up. She decided to change tactics. She held her breath and pushed her face further into the cushion, until when she gasped for breath none came. She was going to escape from the pain. Maybe he would notice, maybe he would not. Her body reacted instinctively to the lack of oxygen, but before she could free herself from the position she put herself in, her head was forced down by another painful thrust.

And slowly the world faded to black... Her body stopped struggling, and she was still.

 

[Wolk]

Richard continued to pound her for quite some time, in his fit of shameful rage. Then, finally, it began to slowly subside. He realized she wasn't struggling anymore, and turned her over, understanding that he pushed too hard.

He sighed, upset at himself for giving in to her taunts and losing control. He was sorry for her, for her silly act when she should've realized she had no choice but to submit, but on top of that he couldn't help feeling respect for the level of resistance, and strangely, pride. THIS was the woman he cared for - she was strong, and didn't flinch even in a hopeless situation like this!

He checked her breathing and pulse - she was OK, just out for a while. He made her decent again and laid her on her back, then called a doctor and left the room.

She received the night off - allowed to rest, to eat, to get better. Then, the next day, she received a visit from him again. This time it wasn't so simple. He obviously didn't come hoping she'd look down and submit just at the sound of his name. He came to break her, more determined than ever, because he now knew - under no circumstances should this woman fall a slave to his father, or some other cruel man here. She was far too feisty and stubborn, and those men were far too impatient. They were going to kill her, when she refuses to submit. This is exactly why he will have to break her, no matter what it takes.

There was no hello, no 'have you changed your mind'. He knew she hasn't. Instead, he sprayed something into her eyes, which made it easy to fix her hands behind her back in cuffs. Next, she was tackled down and her feet, too, were shackled, although here the chain was replaced with a bar that kept them separated. He pushed her over a table, fixing her firmly to it with another restraint. Then out came the whip.

Slowly, methodially, she was whipped - once, twice, a dozen times. He stopped on two dozen. Finally, he came around to her face and spoke to her. He wasn't mad now, or soft, or hard - he wasn't anything. He was INDIFFERENT.

"You know, I realized last night. You don't have to submit to me. You're my slave, and I can just use you like this." He stifled a morning yawn, then lowered his pants. When she tried to say something, a gag was shoved into her mouth and secured there.

He got behind her and pushed in, sinking his dick into her soft, velvety pussy. No words, no affection - nothing. He just moved back and forth, grunting slightly like an animal, taking his pleasure from her as if she was nothing more than a toy for him to masturbate with. Back and forth.

After a while he finally reached climax. Pulling out before it, he dumped his cum all over her buttocks, then slapped them proprietarly, zipped up and left the room, leaving her to stand in this awkward positoin.

 

[fallenupright]

She'd spent her time wobbling around the little cage they prepared for her. Sitting was painful, so she lay on her stomach most of the time. She did eat, and sleep. The morning she awoke to more soreness, possibly worse than before. She wasn't sure exactly what time it was when he came back, but she didn't even have time to taunt or fight before she was blinded by some spray and cuffed.

Today's torture was less painful - slightly.

The whipping was painful, and each lash made her body go rigid with pain. But it wasn't the same kind of brutal violation as the previous day. No, she didn't wish for the blackness. This she bore again without sound...

The announcement and realization that he was going to do as he saw fit, without her submitting... that made her start to realize exactly what she'd gotten herself into.

Sex without proper lubrication wasn't exactly pleasant, but it lasted long enough that her body did start to respond, which kept it from being unbearably painful. It was merely... uncomfortable. She thanked her stars that she'd had a boyfriend in highschool, that this wasn;t her first sexual experience. However, the pain wasn't what got to her this time, nor was it what got to her last time. The humiliation and feeling of being dirty and used - now that was what sent her mind reeling.

When he left her still cuffed, face down over the table and the hot stickly feeling of his cum on her ass, she started to cry. Not silent tears, the first real cry she'd had since she was in the beginning of her journey, on the boat. She couldn't move, affixed to the table like she was. So she just cried. He was gone, anyways. Not here to revel in her pain - into her admission of pain, and as such the very slightest submission. Admission that he'd got to her.

 

[Wolk]

Chase was left in her uncomfortable position until after dinner. The dinner was brought into her room, served by a maid with latin features, who didn't pay any attention to the tied up, bare-assed girl with dried cum on her buttocks. She just served the dish on the kitchen counter, since the table was taken up by Chase herself, and exited.

A little bit after this, Richard paid her a visit again.

"How're you doing here, slave?" He accented the last word slightly. Then, sitting down at the table next to her gagged face, he continued.

"You know, this is working out a lot better than I thought. My father is satisfied that I'm finally just going and banging someone instead of looking for a nice, good-hearted girl next door to fall in love with. Nobody's so much as hinting a tought that I'm weak because I don't want to just use you like an object, and you are here all safe and secure, so I don't have to carry the guilt when they'd have finally shot your ass for being so stubborn and not knowing your place." He gave her a small smile. "If it works, don't mess with it, they say. Since you don't want to be an obedient nice girl I could care about, I'm just going to treat you as a piece of meat to stick my cock into once in a while and offer my friends. I got a couple of guys I know - REALLY love it when a girl resists, I think they have a rape fantasy or something. You'll be perfect share with them next time they're over." He patted her head, and ruffled her hair slightly. "Alright, let's begin."

Once again he got behind her and stroked his cock up and down until he was fully erect. It wasn't hard, since before him was a rather arousing view of her open pussy and ass. For a moment he pondered which hole to put it in, but memories of yesterday swayed that decision. As much as he looked otherwise, he still cared for her, and the thought of causing her the same kind of pain with his cock as she suffered before with the brush was not at all appealing.

So, once again her pussy lips were pushed aside as he entered, pushing his strong member into her tight dry hole. He didn't go too quickly this time, having the patience to wait until her body reacted to having a cock inside of her and her pleasure passage became moist enough for him to pound without much pain. He did just that, thrusting with his hips again and again, making her ass shake beautifully every time his thighs hit against the backs of hers and his pelvis slammed into her buttocks.

He didn't say a word, or utter any great grunt, or moan. The only display of his state was hastened breathing. This time he fucked her for longer, sometimes stopping and reaching for her buttocks to feel them and slap them, watching how they bounced from his spankings. Finally, he was almost there once again, and once again he pulled out.

But this time he didn't shoot it over her ass. Instead, he came around her again, and gave his cock a few final tugs, while aiming it at her face. The thick, abundant jets of cum fired one after another, leaving his tool and flying in an arch that inevitably ended somewhere on her face or in her hair. Richard came a lot, and by the time he was done, Chase looked like the starlet of a porno movie. He whiped his cock off on her hair, then put it back away into his pants and zipped up.

With that he unlocked the restraints on her, packing them away, in such a way that she couldn't get away or get her hands onto any one before he was done, the plastic army-style handcuffs were last - he simply cut them, and shoved her onto the couch.

********

The next day started almost exactly like the last. She was left alone in the morning, but a little bit later Richard came in. This time there were two other men with him. He just nodded when they looked at him, and the men began approaching Chase, rolling up their sleeves.

 

[fallenupright]

She was surprised when he came back for a second go - and there was little she could do to stop it. Again, her body responded in the basest of ways to him. She made no sound, and did her best to be still, to play dead. But she was only human - and unwanted or not, on some level it was still sex, and she had to fight to keep the sounds from her throat, her hips from meeting his, by the end. She wouldn't say she enjoyed it - she was humiliated and horrified that her body had betrayed her. When he pulled out, and sprayed on her face, she just closed her eyes. Disgusting. She'd never been one to find that sort of thing exciting... it was just gross.

She kept her eyes closed and though she felt the restraints being removed, she made no effort to fight. Her body couldn't - too stiff from being held in one place so long. After he shoved her to the couch she lay still a few moments, before standing and moving as quickly as her stiff limbs allowed her into the shower, washing herself clean.

Chase had spent the rest of the day after being released either curled up in bed, or in the shower. She didn't know what she was trying to wash away, after the first shower her body was clean... but no matter what she did, she still felt dirty. She didn't eat any of the food that had been brought to her, and it was late before she fell asleep... she felt to restless to sleep. She awoke often - every noise and bump made her eyes open.

The next morning, the maid brought in some food, and Chase tried to eat some. She pushed it around with her fork, but it just wasn't appetizing, nor did her stomach want it. Instead she poured herself some water, and drank that. Again, she showered. Today, she put on pants and a tank top. No skirt. She also wore a bra and underwear, and somehow... that made her feel better.

Safer.

The minutes were hours, as she waited for the inevitable, sitting on the couch, pretending to watch TV, though her mind was elsewhere. He'd be back, she was sure. The door clicked open and she looked up. Richard entered, followed by two men. When she saw the men, her eyes widened. She looked to the door, the window... anything. She was sure this wasn't a good sign.

When they rolled their sleeves and came towards her, she stood up... backing away.

 

[Wolk]

The men laughed rather crudely as they caught her arms. Any fighting on her part was met with overwhelming force, which the two much more muscular bodies could easily brought to bear. They didn't harm her, but made sure she received several times more pain than she decided to give out.

"Ooh, we' gonna have some fun with you today!" One of them declared lewly. "I hear you like big cocks in all your slutty holes."

Richard just stood aside, trying to not intervene, while the men roamed their arms all over Chase. They had unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down all the way off her legs, only laughing at her attempts to kick. Her hands had been once again secured behind her back. She was handled as if she wasn't even a person by these two - like a farm animal that's being herded into where the farmer wants it for some unpleasant and violating, but routine, procedure.

Once she was undressed from the waist down, the second man helped open her legs, while the first got settled between them. With a grunt, the man entered her, and proceeded to use the tight passage for his own pleasure. At least he had a condom on. He didn't stop until he groaned out and grinned in great pleasure, orgasming inside of her. Quickly, he was replaced by the second man, who proceeded to do the exact same thing, only he had a great interest in Chase's big young tits. He unbuttoned her top and greedily sunk his fingers into the gentle orbs through her bra, while he pounded her pussy. Another orgasm, and the second man rolled off her, pulling his condom off.

The men went to the kitchen next to get some snacks and drinks, while Richards approached Chase. He sat next to her on the side where she couldn't kick him if she wanted and smiled down.

"Enjoying your new life, Chase?" He teased meanly, as he started to undo his belt.

 

[fallenupright]

She did her damndest to fight them off, but with two of them she had little chance. She wished, not for the first time since this began that she had invisted in self defence classes or something. All she could do was fight her hardest, and she did. But they fought too.

In the end, she was left bruised and still as they both had their way with her. Tears had come to her eyes and ran down her cheeks, but the men paid no mind, using her body as they liked. When they were finished, they left her lying on the bed, where they had put her.

Richard approached and she looked at him, her eyes dull. She'd already lost the stormy look... realizing she was fighting a losing battle.

"I'd rather be dead, but there isn't anywhere good to hang myself." she told him, honestly. The rod in the closet wasn't high enough... it stood at chest height. There were no ceiling beams... nothing. Nothing sharp, nothing high. She couldn't kill herself, well, not quickly anyways.

She wasn't ready to give in, but she was starting to feel that fighting wasn't getting her anywhere. But on the other hand - she didn't see the alternative. No, she wasn't broken. She still looked him in the eye, still wasn't ready to give in. But, the cracks had been made... and she was sure he could tell. She was sure he'd use it to his advantage.

Where before she had thought she might win - now she felt like she was losing, a little bit at a time. She couldn't give up, but she saw the future and knew that eventually she would indeed be begging for him to stop it. She couldn't hold it in forever.

 

[Wolk]

"Then why do you fight?" He took his belt out and stood up. "I'm sure you're smart enough to realize whose power you are in by now. You're a slave, and what happens to you depends entirely on what your owner wants," he unbuttoned his pants. "You have two options to make your life easier, so you wouldn't want to hang yourself. One's to fight the system, defeat it, and run away free. You let me know how that's going for you," he grinned and unzipped the pants, pulling out his member. "Turn over," he said matter of factly, in between the monologue. His strong hand with a tight grip in her hair and a firm jerk in the right direction helped get her in the position he wanted.

"The other way is to embrace the system and work within it." He inserted his cock into her well-lubricated pussy. "Make sure nobody wants to do anything bad to you."

He was finished with the speeches. Now, interested only in the tightness of her wet pussy, he began fucking her from behind, driving his cock back and forth with powerful thrusts, while gripping her buttocks firmly. He went at a nice, steady pace, enjoying the act for its raw, physical pleasure, but not feeling a thing emotionally. It was so dry, almost boring.

And then, in the middle of it all, he thought of an obvious, if somewhat disturbing analogy. She was like a wild horse - untamed and unwilling to submit to the rider. And how was a wild horse tamed? By a rider that proves he could handle her, can tire her out and stay firmly on her back until she is out of breath, out of strength, helpless, and the rider is still in charge.

The thought completely changed his behaviour. From a boring, almost unwanted moving of his penis back and forth within her, he became alive and passionate. He moved as if he was making love to her, as if it was a contest on who can cum last. The strokes were suddenly more intelligent, more attentive to her body's response. Whe she tightened and shuddered with her muscles involuntarily, let alone breathed unevenly or moaned, he took due note of her feelings and used that knowledge further. She was no longer just a hole to be used, but an instrument to learn to play - and he was a quick and dedicated student.

He grabbed her roughly by the hair, pulling her head back at him, as he pumped her pussy with his hard, hot cock. His free hand slapped her buttocks, groped her tits, twisted her nipples. He even moved it down between her legs and worked on her clitty, and worked in a way she couldn't have expected from a 'boy' she had him figured for.

Although she couldn't see it, there was no longer an indifferent expression on his face - now it was a grin, a hunter's grin. He had a challenge, and a way to solve it, he thought, which made the process so much more exciting. Oh, he thought, she was going to be his, and not just through despair and torture.