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Larra once again tried to work her way free as Marchand turned his back on her. He had moved off some way into the darkness as the sound of movement echoed through the tomb. She no longer pulled at her bonds, she knew that did not work. Instead she tried to relax enough to twist her wrists free of the ropes. But it was no good. Nothing seemed to make the knots Marchand had devised any looser. “The bastard must have been a boy scout,” Larra muttered. “Damn, I was a fool to trust him.”
The sounds of feet moved closer. Whoever was coming there seemed to be a number of them. “Almost here,” Marchand said, turning to face her once again. Soon I will be leaving you. Much as I would like to bang that tight cunt of yours one more time, I will leave that up to your new masters.”
He turned toward the approaching sound. A light appeared out of the darkness. Then several lights as a dozen or so men entered the tomb. “Zis is incredible,” a deep voice said. “Who would have believed that pile of ruins could have hidden zis?”
Larra couldn’t quite place the accent. It sounded eastern European. And then out of the darkness emerged a stocky man with a sallow complexion. He was dressed most unsuitably for exploring a tomb, in a three-piece suit and top hat. A neat mustache and goatee framed his face. Behind him several other men stepped forward. These were also well-dressed, but nothing to quite rival their master.
“So,” he said. “Zis is the famous British adventurer. I must say that you appear to have been having quite a bit of fun with her. I hope you have not reduced her value.”
“Hello, Prinz. She was a bit stubborn,” Marchand admitted. “But the marks on her body are purely cosmetic. They should heal without a scar.”
“Did you try her out?”
“Yes, and I must say she was excellent. She has a cunt that grips like a vise. Best fuck I’ve ever had. But I should warn you she is most unwilling. You won’t get into her without tying her hand and foot.”
“I like a challenge,” Prinz
replied. He stepped up to Larra
who had remained silent during the crude
discussion.
“
“No,” Larra protested, finally breaking her silence. She had listened in shame and anger as Prinz and Marchand had discussed her as if she were some sort of livestock. “You can’t break me. I’ll never give in.”
“Perhaps not,” Prinz grinned. “But is will be fun trying.” He was already unbuttoning his pants.
“No, you bastard,” Larra cried as he moved forward.
“Nice of you to position her so perfectly, Marchand,” Prinz grinned. “She is just zee right height.”
“Glad to oblige,” Marchand
replied. “I will be going
now. I have to arrange the news
conference for the opening of this tomb.
Enjoy yourself,
“Ah,” Prinz gasped. “I see Marchand left you a bit sticky, but you’re still tight enough.” He squeezed her breasts and Larra bit back a cry of pain as his fingers aggravated the burns Marchand had placed on her breasts.
“You brutal bastard,” Larra gasped as he penetrated her even deeper. In spite of her prior violation by Marchand she was far from ready to receive him, and it took some effort for him to bury himself completely. But as Prinz had said, it was pleasant work and he was in no hurry as he slowly pushed in and out of her, sinking his shaft deeper with every stroke.
“Uuuhh! Larra grunted as he raped her. It hurt like hell, and Prinz made no attempt to go easy on her. He wanted to break her and every movement of his body was calculated to create maximum pain and discomfort. Again and again he thrust into her while Larra fought to keep from screaming. It was not so much the pain, however, that had her close to hysterics, it was the humiliation, and the feeling of compete helplessness. There was nothing she could do to stop Prinz from fucking her for as long as he wished and for as many times as he wished. She was simply his toy; there to use for his own pleasure in any way he chose. When he was finally finished with her, she was breathing hard, her lush body covered with sweat, and her mind burning with shame.
However, her initiation into the world of sex slave was just beginning. There were fourteen more men waiting their turn and each of them took it with as much pleasure and zeal as Prinz had. It left her barely able to stand, her loins throbbing in pain, and her body dripping with sweat and the semen of the men who had taken her.
“Zat’s a good start,” Prinz jeered as the last man finished. “Now it’s time to get her out of here.” He held up a set of chains. “I had zese especially made for you, Larra. Ordinary shackles won’t do to hold a woman of your caliber. I’m afraid until you are broken you’ll have to wear zem for quite some time.”
Prinz started with her ankles. Tut-tutting as he noted that Marchand had even burned the soles of Larra’s feet and the spaces between her toes. “Stupid bastard. Marchand could have scarred you for life, but I zink you will heal.”
He locked the shackles around each of her ankles. Larra could tell from their weight that these were not the traditional heavy leg irons, but something much lighter. However, that did not necessarily mean that they would be any weaker. She had taken a good look at them when Prinz had held them up and noted that they were constructed of gleaming steel rather than dull iron. There was a sharp click as each shackle was closed about her ankles.
Next Prinz locked a shiny metal collar around her neck. It too was relatively lightweight, but to Larra it might as well have weighed a ton. Each additional shackle spelled the end of her freedom and the beginning of a life of bondage. It was like the slamming of a cell door behind a woman sentenced to a life of solitary confinement.
He shackled her wrists last, untying each wrist from the rings on top of
the tomb as he did so. When he
was finished Larra was thoroughly
chained. Each ankle was connected
by a four foot length of chain allowing her to walk, but not run or use her
powerful legs as a weapon. Her
wrists were shackled by a shorter chain, allowing her to move her hands only
two feet from one another. Another
chain linked the wrist and ankle chains preventing her from raising her hands
above her waist. Finally, a length
of chain was attacked to the steel
collar. “Now we leave,”
Prinz said, but first I must give you your slave
name. You will no longer be
Larra stumbled forward. She was still able to walk in spite of the fact that her nether region hurt like hell and she was so exhausted she could barely stand. But she knew that it was all part of the process of breaking her down; just as giving her a slave name was a way of breaking her down. It was a technique practiced by many an inquisitor; the taking away the victim’s identity and keeping her in a state of exhaustion and privation until she broke. She knew exactly what Prinz was doing, but that did not make it any easier to endure.
It was a long walk back to the bottom of the shaft where she had entered the tomb. Upon arriving she found that a lifting platform had been rigged up. Most of Prinz’s men went up first while Larra and Prinz waited at the bottom. “Training you is going to give me more pleasure zan you can imagine,” Prinz said, as he and Larra waited. “I have broken many a woman, but none with your reputation or your beauty. It will be most enjoyable watching you break.”
The lift arrived and Larra was transported to the surface. Prinz followed immediately after. Larra found that while she had endured her painful and humiliating ordeal in the tomb night had fallen. The archeological site was deserted, not a single one of her faithful workers remaining. Marchand and Prinz had chosen well. There was no one to witness her exit from the tomb or her disappearance. She would be reported missing just as Marchand had said, and it would be supposed she had died somewhere in the tomb.
There was a truck waiting for them. Larra was hauled into the back with four of the men who had raped her and Prinz and the driver got into the front. Inside there were two benches on either side of the truck, but Larra was not allowed to sit on either of these. Instead she was forced to squat on the floor of the truck while the men took the seats on either side of her.
“You were a great fuck, cunt,” jeered one of the men as the truck started up. “I’m looking for plenty more with you.”
“Damned right, Rossi,” agreed another. “I hope she takes a long time to break. The more I get to fuck her the better.”
“Tightest cunt I ever had,” said a third. “And I was fucking her tenth. She must have cunt muscles made of steel.”
The jibes continued as the ride progressed, a humiliated Larra forced to tolerate them. However, she noticed that her guards had become careless. Chained the way she was she could not properly use her martial skills, a factor that no doubt led to the complacency of the men guarding her, but they had badly underestimated her abilities. She struck so suddenly that the first man had no chance to react. She targeted one of the men sitting near the open tailgate of the truck. Allowed only limited movement of her hands and feet she had to leap to her feet and close with the man before she could get at him, but she timed her attack perfectly, waiting until the truck was on a stretch of straight road so that she would have better footing.
She rose from her crouched position on the bed of the truck, took one step to close with her startled opponent, drove both of her fists into his throat and then without waiting for him to fall, turned to the man next to him who was just rising from his seat. Unable to reach his throat when he was standing, she drove both fists straight forward, focusing all of her energy into the strike. She caught him just below the sternum, helped by the fact that as a tall woman, she was actually taller than he was. The blow drove the air from the man’s lungs and there was the satisfying sound of a rib breaking, but now the remaining guards were on their feet, and lunging toward her.
She sidestepped the first, no small feat in the back of a swaying truck that was bouncing over an uneven road surface. As he stumbled past she hooked her hands in his belt, and adding to his impetus, hurled him out of the back of the truck. As he bounced on the road behind her, she focused on the last man.
Having seen the fate of his fellows, however, this man had no inclination to close with Larra. Instead he backed away, assuming a boxing stance and waited for Larra to come at him, while at the same time screaming at the top of his lungs for the driver of the truck to stop.
It was something Larra could not allow. She headed straight at him, forcing him to swing at her, and then in spite of the constraints of her chains and the lurching of the truck, she stepped slightly to one side and then stepped toward him, slamming her forehead into his nose. There was a horrible crunching sound, a scream, and a rush of blood as the man staggered away from her, but Larra was not quite finished with him. She grabbed him by his belt and leaning back and making use of a convenient bounce of the truck propelled him toward the tailgate and out onto the road. It all happened so fast that the man didn’t even know what was happening until he contacted the hard surface of the road. That left just the two men Larra had already dealt with.
One was still conscious, moaning on the floor of the truck and clutching at his injured rib. The other lay still as death. Larra threw them both onto the road anyway and stood panting in the back of the truck. Remarkably no one in the cab seemed to have seen or heard anything. However, now she faced one very severe problem. How was she to safely exit a speeding vehicle in the middle of the night while chained hand and foot? Simply jumping out and hoping that she would land unharmed in the middle of nowhere was an extreme gamble. She would more than likely suffer severe injury. The least she could hope for was multiple cuts and bruises. She was trapped until the truck slowed down.
However, the matter was taken out of her hands. The headlights of another vehicle rushed up behind her and she could easily hear the blaring of its horn. The truck carrying the last of the men who had violated her had caught up, no doubt driven with greater speed when the driver noted the bodies of the guards littering the roadway. Almost immediately the truck she was in began to slow down, but she dared not jump yet. Such an act would take her under the wheels of the truck that was following, and so she waited until the truck had almost come to a halt.
Even timing her jump perfectly, the contact with the ground sent her flat on her backside. As she had feared the truck following almost ran right over her, but she managed to roll to one side, the front wheels missing her only by inches. And then she rolled to her feet and scrambled away into the darkness.
Her situation was ridiculously desperate. She was chained so that she could walk but not run and she was completely naked. Her only chance was to hope that the darkness would hide her and that somehow she would stumble upon someone who would help her.
She had no such luck. Instead the truck that had come up behind wheeled off the road and caught her full in its headlights. As she tried to hobble away she could hear shouts as the other men in the trucks piled out and ran after her.
It was no contest. They easily caught up with her and she stopped and turned as they approached. Defiantly, she waited for an attack, even though in her nude condition she felt ridiculously exposed. However as she waited for the men to attack her no one made a move. Instead they completely surrounded her and then stood waiting until Prinz came up.
“Zorra, you have surprised me,” he said, surveying her while twirling his mustache. I would have thought it impossible for anyone to have beaten up four of my men while chained as you are. I shall have to keep you on a shorter leash. And, of course you shall have to be punished. Something zat I shall personally see to once we have reached our destination. As for now…” He finished his comments with a nod to those around her. They closed in all at once and from all sides, giving her no chance to fight back. She was held by the arms while Prinz personally adjusted her chains.
It was a simple adjustment. He unlocked the chain connecting her hands to her feet and shortened it before snapping the lock back on. It left her bent over like a crone and able to offer no opposition to anyone. Then she was herded back onto the truck and guarded by six men. And as an added precaution they used one more set of chains to secure her to the truck itself. “Now,” said Prinz, looking over the arrangement. I think that you will behave yourself until the end of our journey.” He walked to the cab of the truck, got in and then the truck was once again on its way.
This time Larra gave her captors no cause for concern. She crouched quietly on the floor of the truck ignoring the hands that stroked her body and the lascivious comments until the truck ground to a halt. Prinz was waiting for her by the back of the truck as she was unceremoniously hauled out. Then he followed behind while Larra was taken into a windowless building. As it was night she could tell very little about the place Prinz had brought her to. All she knew was that she was escorted down two flights of stairs to a dark room where she was pushed into a corner.
“You will sleep here for the remainder of the night,” Prinz said. “Tomorrow you will receive your punishment and resume your training. Goodnight, Zorra.”
The slamming of a door revealed that he had gone. Bent double, Larra felt her way around the room and determined that she was the only thing in it. There was not a single stick of furniture or even a pallet to lie down on. The door was constructed of wood and bound with iron. There was no lock and she surmised that it was bolted from the other side. With a sigh she sat down on the floor and waited. Morning would come soon enough. Too soon.
The door creaked open and Larra was instantly awake. In spite of her resolve to stay awake she had drifted off something during the night and now she was stiff and sore from her ordeal. Flashlights illuminated her basement prison and several men shuffled in. “Come with us, whore. It’s time to start your training.” They closed in around her and seizing her arms, escorted her from the room.
Larra went without resisting. It would have done not the least bit of good anyway and probably would have gotten her a beating. She was taken up just one level and ushered into a much larger room, she was not at all surprised to see Prinz waiting for her. Unable to stand without her back bent, Larra felt as if she was bowing before him. It was a humbling position, and one she was certain would get worse.
“Well, Zorra,” Prinz said. “You look like hell, but zere is little point in cleaning you up until I am finished with you. First zere is the little matter of your escape attempt last night and zen we will get down to business.”
She looked around the room and experienced the same thrill of fear she always did when she realized what she was in for. There was a rack of a simple design, consisting of two vertical posts set into the floor. Two six foot chains hung from a crosspiece set about twelve feet from the floor. At the end of the chains were leather cuffs for securing the wrists of the victim. Piled on the floor were a number of heavy weights that could be added to another set of cuffs intended for the victim’s ankles.
The victim would be hung by her wrists from the upper chains and then the other set of cuffs would be attached to her ankles. The pain would start out slowly, with just the victim’s body weight acting against her. But then the torturer would add weights by attaching them to the lower chains. The victim would then be gradually stretched until the continued adding of weights literally tore her apart.
Today the victim was Larra. Unable to offer the least amount of resistance, she was dragged over to the wooden frame. While two men kept a strong grip on her and then unlocked her right arm from the chains that held her and forced it into one of the cuffs over her head. Then the same thing was done to her other arm and the overhead chains were winched upward, taking up the slack and drawing Larra’s arms straight up over her head until her feet left the floor.
“Zere is no need to make you any taller,” Prinz grinned. “At least not today, but you must be punished for your escape attempt.” He moved in front of her so that she could see what he was holding. He slapped a riding crop into the palm of his hand. “I zink this would be suitable, don’t you. Nasty enough to be painful, but not enough to break the skin. After all, we don’t want to mar zat beautiful body. It would lower your value.”
He touched the riding crop to Larra’s left nipple and gave it as little flick. It didn’t hurt, it wasn’t supposed to; it was just intended to intimidate her, but Larra gave Prinz no satisfaction not even blinking an eye.
“What spirit,” Prinz lamented. “Too bad zat you must be broken.” He quickly whipped back the riding crop and brought it down hard in a slashing motion that caught her across her right breast.
A red welt appeared extending from the upper swell of her breast and across the nipple. Larra gasped. Her night in chains had not prepared her well to resist much more ill-treatment. Her body ached from the previous day’s round of rape and her attempted escape, and she did not have much left. Nevertheless, she managed not to scream as Prinz cracked the riding cop across her other breast and then moved behind her and gave her three hard blows across her backside.
“Consider zat a minor act of discipline,” Prinz said as he set aside the riding crop. “It will get much worse if you try anything zat displeases me to zat extent again.”
He stood with his hands on his hips in front of her. “Now, Zorra,” he said. “We can make this easy or we can make it hard. I have several dozen men close by. I can bring every one of them in here and let them fuck you or you can agree to pleasure me of your own free will. Zee decision is entirely yours.”
“I choose to kick your ass, you stupid bastard,” Larra grunted through clenched teeth. She was already gasping from the strain of hanging from her arms, but Prinz’s statement enraged her, giving her the strength to reply. Whether it was wise to reply in such a fashion was entirely another matter.
“So,” Prinz said slowly. “You have made your choice.” He motioned to two of his men. “ Put her across the horse.”
She was lowered to the floor, two men taking hold of her arms to prevent escape. She struggled briefly, but was simply too exhausted to do more than force her captors to drag her across the room. “The horse,” was a heavy wooden beam set at waist level. There were two iron rings bolted into each end. Larra was arched back across the beam and her wrists secured to the beam while her ankles were strapped to the support beams, leaving her spread-eagled and ready for the next stage of her conditioning.
“Remember,” Prinz said. “Zis was your choice. You could have agreed to let me fuck you and had the rest of the day off. I hope you enjoy giving your body to thirty or forty men as much as zey will enjoy taking it.”
The guards who had chained her took her first, their reward for obeying orders. Then it was the turn of those closest to the doors, and then that of the men waiting outside. It seemed to go on endlessly. She was given neither food nor drink nor any chance to relieve herself. Eventually she was forced to go right where she was while the men still waiting their turn jeered at her. The fact that they now had to stand in a pool of urine in order to enjoy her made no difference. They continued to come one after the other until Larra lost track of the number. It might have been thirty or forty or fifty. It didn’t matter, she was completely beaten beyond the ability to do anything more than lie exhausted and wait for the ordeal to end.
Her exhausted passivity angered her assailants. They squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples and inner thighs in order to get some reaction out of her, but eventually even this brutality did not move her. It was only then that Prinz called his men off. “You could have had it easier, Zorra, but you preferred being fucked by many to giving yourself to just one. Tomorrow we begin again. For now you rest.”
Larra was unchained from the horse and dragged back to her cell, almost oblivious to her surroundings. She was tossed unceremoniously into the cell along with a bucket for bodily functions. A little later two guards came with a bucket of water and a bowl of goat stew. Larra did not even notice them enter or leave the cell, but sometime later, pain, and the need to use the bucket aroused her.
Light trickled into the cell from a tiny window near the top. She was able to find what she needed and then noticed the food and water. She drank first, her dehydrated body demanding water above all else. Then she tried the stew. It was cold and coagulated, but she forced it down. During her adventurous life she had eaten much worse, and although her ordeal and destroyed her appetite she knew that she needed the food to keep up her strength. After that she once again lapsed into an exhausted sleep.
She awoke when the door was thrown open. Prinz stood there as she had expected. This time there was little need for chains, but apparently Marchand had warned Prinz about Larra’s abilities. She was chained anyway and forced to her feet. Every movement was agony and she whimpered in pain, but her guards paid no attention to her moans and led her down the hall. She could barely walk, every step being sheer agony, but when she faltered her captors dragged her forward. After a few steps Larra realized that she was going in the opposite direction of the day before. Shuffling along with her captors, she was half walked, half dragged down the hall to a staircase. She was taken up two flights of stairs to what she supposed was the main floor of the building. Light streamed in through high windows and she was led through what appeared to be a living area and then down another hall. Larra staggered forward, forcing herself to place one foot in front of the other. She dreaded what waited for her at the other end, but for some reason Prinz had said nothing after his initial greeting.
Larra was suddenly struck by a familiar scent, but she had a hard time believing it. However, a few steps later her guards threw open a door and she stepped into something entirely unexpected. Before her was a luxury bathroom, complete with a large tub of steaming water. After the cold of her prison the warmth in the room was like walking into heaven. Standing by the bath was a female attendant. The scent of bath salts filled the air. Larra stared uncomprehending.
“Today, Zorra,” Prinz said, “the choice is the same as yesterday, but with one added incentive. Choose one man and you will be allowed a day of rest, be given better food and drink, and allowed to spend as much time in this room as you desire. Choose the many and you will be taken back to the horse immediately. Now, is it one man or many?”
It was an impossible choice Prinz demanded of
her. In addition to her lovers,
Larra had given herself to men before, but only to save her
companions. This was a different
sort of choice; whether she would submit to gang rape or prostitute herself
to avoid a more brutal ordeal.
Every part of her body ached.
She was bruised from head to toe and her breasts and loins burned
from what she had endured. A
sea of lusting faces danced before her eyes as she remembered the endless
procession of men who had raped her again and again and
again. She knew that she could
not face such torment again, and the temptations Prinz had placed before
her were overwhelming. To be
warm and clean again, and to have a full belly and allowed to rest, seemed
like heaven. She sank to her
knees in submission. “I
choose one man,” she said.
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