Tessa Valmur - Bought and Sold

'Thought you were going somewhere?' the man laughed and landed another blow with the crop over her buttocks making her yelp with pain. Her eyes smarting from the blow, Zoe gasped in discomfort as her hair was caught and her head jerked back sharply. The riding crop was then held under her chin forcing her head back and making her splutter as she begged with the man.

'Please... don't hurt me... I'll do whatever you want... please...'

'Of course you'll do whatever I want. You haven't any choice!'

The hard leather under her chin was withdrawn abruptly and Zoe's face fell back into the pillows. Before she could lift her head the crop was pressing against the back of her neck and she found herself struggling to even turn her head.

'Can't breathe!' Zoe gasped, twisting her head urgently to pull her face clear of the smothering cushion under her.

'Raoul! Sayed!' the man shouted.

Zoe lay gasping as the man released the pressure of the crop against the back of her neck. She could hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stone stairs and glancing over her shoulder a moment later she saw two lean Arab youths appear through the open archway of the spiral stairs.

'Take the girl down to the interrogation room and give her a drink, she's probably thirsty after her spell in the crate.'

Zoe was seized by the two youths and lifted bodily from the bed by her arms. They quickly carried her down two flights of spiral stairs into a basement that had no windows and was lit by two exposed light bulbs that dangled from a wire across the ceiling. The room was humid, the walls rough stone and the floor sand. On one wall there were iron rings from which leather cords dangled. In the middle of the room there was an X shaped bench, each limb of which was draped with leather straps. She glimpsed a rough wooden table strewn with various devices that made her stomach churn as the two youths dragged her across the room to a narrow, circular well.

She was dropped to the floor and one of the youths lowered a wooden bucket into the well and after a dull splash, he pulled the bucket back up by the old rope that was tied to its handle.

'Tie her face down on the bench then make sure she has plenty to drink, for a westerner it's easy to suffer dehydration in the desert,' Stonefield ordered, as he leant nonchalantly in the archway at the bottom of the stairs. Immediately in response Zoe was seized by the arms and dragged over to the bench. One of the youths sat astride her waist once they'd forced her face down on the bench and the other quickly unfastened her wristcuffs and the belt around her arms.

'You've no idea how much I've been looking forward to this,' laughed Stonefield, scornfully, as Zoe had her arms dragged forwards and stretched along the wooden extensions of the bench. Leather cords that were fastened to the bench were quickly threaded through the D-rings on the wristcuffs and pulled tight then knotted fast.

With both her arms tied, the two Arab youths set to work to secure her legs. Zoe grunted with discomfort as her left leg was pulled down as far as possible then a cord slipped through the leather cuff around her ankle, drawn tight and knotted. Her right leg was then treated in similar fashion so that she was bound like a starfish on the wooden bench, her arms and legs widely spread and held forcibly stretched. Zoe felt a wave of panic rising over her and she was unable to help herself glancing in the direction of the table. Remembering the items of torture strewn over it, a shiver of fear ran down her body and although she knew escape was impossible she found she was twisting her arms and pulling with her legs in a frantic bid to get free.

'How does it feel, Miss Farquerson? Do you enjoy feeling this vulnerable? Does it excite you being so helpless?'

Zoe pulled urgently against the restraints and could feel her arm and legs muscles straining but she couldn't get herself free. Momentarily exhausted from struggling, she lay, recovering her breath, her slim body moist and shiny now with sweat.

'You look quite a picture, you know. Struggle all you want my dear, it's amusing to watch... most amusing.'

'You bastard... just wait...' Zoe panted, renewing her efforts to pull her hands free from the leather cuffs around her wrists. Twisting her arms and arching her head back so she could see her tethered limbs, she strained to extricate her hands from the cuffs but the broad leather was buckled too tightly around her wrists and she was forced to concede defeat. She felt her abductor stroke down her body, his hand travelling from her neck, over her back and down to the soft cheeks of her buttocks.

'Give her a drink Raoul, she looks thirsty.'

One of the youths grasped her hair and drew her head back and the other insinuated a wedge of rubber into her mouth to stop her closing her jaws. Zoe shook her head in alarm as a she saw a small tube dangling before her face. The hands holding her tightened their grasp and a second later the soft rubber was slipped inside her mouth. She looked up wide-eyed with panic as the other end of the tube was placed into bucket they'd drawn from the well.

Zoe spluttered and coughed as water ran down her throat. The youths watched her, their eyes bright with excitement and arousal as they made her drink. The water quickly filling her belly and still she had to gulp it down as fast as she could or she'd choke. Soon she was trying to shake her head to tell them to stop but there was no let up. When she tried to protest vocally the water ran down her windpipe making her cough and she quickly gave up and went back to obediently swallowing. Please, please, enough, enough... no more... she silently begged. Her stomach ached now it felt so full. At last she heard the Englishman give the order for them to stop and the tube was withdrawn from her throat and the rubber wedge prized free.

'Now she's had enough to drink I think she's ready for us to begin the first game. Sayed, get the riding crop and soften her up,' ordered the Englishman.

The older of the two youths eagerly darted across to the table and snatched up a leather riding crop. Zoe guessed he could be no more than twenty. He was tall and sinewy and like his friend dressed only in cut off jeans, an old T-shirt and sandals. He flashed Zoe a broad grin then without a moment's hesitation he brought the riding crop down hard over her thigh.

'Uhhh!'

Zoe flinched; jerking against the tight leather around her wrists and ankles as the crop hit her again on the other thigh.

'The inside of her thighs, Sayed, but not too hard, not yet anyway. Let her get used to the feel of the whip first,' ordered Stonefield.

The youth obeyed and Zoe suffered two more strokes, one on each leg.

'Higher up Sayed, close to her pert little arse.'

Zoe grunted as the crop hit her several more times.

'Give her six more on each leg. Make all the blows close together on the inside of her thighs.'

'Ow! Stop! Please...' Zoe cried out shaking her head as a dozen blows rained down unremittingly on her thighs.

'How are we feeling now, Miss Farquerson?'

Zoe lifted her head and blinking back the tears, looked up defiantly at the man who stood over her.

'You better make the most of this,' she warned, 'when I get out of here, you haven't...'

'Get out of here?' laughed Stonefield scornfully. 'Dear girl, you will only leave this tower when I've become bored with watching you suffer. Then I shall sell you for a decent price to one of the desert nomad chieftains and you'll spend the rest of your days as a sex slave. You can forget about escape or your old life. You have no life now, except as a pretty young body to suffer for the gratification of whoever owns you. You've obviously enjoyed your time as an interrogator for the Secret Service; now its time for you to learn how it feels to be on the receiving end! Sayed, it's time to see how sensitive her thighs are now. She if she's ready for a gentle massage.'