Taken and Broken

Shamus ‘Blackhand’ Buchanan sauntered around the merchandise standing at the center of the room. An excitement rippled through every nerve fibre in his body as he watched the terrified blond struggled against the restraining ropes. It’s been a long time since he had such fine specimen under his grasp. She’s perfect in any sense. Her skin was smooth like a delicately polished china. Her body was like the reincarnation of Aphrodite, lean with curves at the right places. Her nipples puckered, pink and delectably hard against the coolness of the room, ready to be abused. She was nothing like the usual girls he received; no missing teeth, limping extremities, no scars. Shamus had only one word in mind – pure! She’s fucking pure.

He licked his lips, thinking about all the things he would do to her within the allocated period of one month. He planted his nose onto her delicate neck, taking in her scent like a bloodhound enjoying the fear of its terrified prey. She smelled sweet, almost fruity. He darted his tongue out and sampled the sweetness along the length of her neck. The sloppy contact caused the girl to jerk away from his tongue.

Understandable. No matter how different each girl is, fear was always there. Couldn’t blame her, Shamus mused. She was probably kidnapped from the streets of an ill-policed city. Rio? Athens? Kuala Lumpur? Regardless, now she’s here, her fear was the last of her concerns. With her wrists tied above her head, blindfolded and her knees parted with a spreader bar, Shamus swallowed the urges to take her exposed pussy right there and then. It’s just that easy.

But he couldn’t. His job was not to fuck her but to break her. Her pussy and asshole were off limits to his twitching cock. She’s a prized merchandise of the trafficking ring, a rare specimen sold only to the highest bidder among the riches. His orders were not to mar any of her delicate skin but to prepare her mentally for her future master.

“Where are you from, slave?” Shamus growled as he pulled her hair and tilted her head upwards.

“London.” she whimpered.

“Not anymore.” he hissed and gave her bare ass the full wrath of his palm.

The smack echoed in the room sickeningly, the force temporary sucked away all her strength. Her knees buckled, leaving her hung only by her wrists. Redness began to appear on her fair skin.

Nothing permanent. It would be gone within an hour.

“Do you know why you end up here?” Shamus asked again, his voice thick with unspoken threat. His fingers found her nipple, administering a twisting pinch, drawing out another yelp from her. “Answer me, slave!” he howled and slapped her bare ass again.

“I don’t know.” she squealed.

“It’s because of your stupidity, slave. Traveling to place that your pretty ass shouldn’t go.” he nibbled her ear. “Now, you are going to suffer the consequences.” he gave her ass another hard slap.

Her knees buckled again only to be caught by Shamus’s strong arm. Holding her in position, he landed a torrent of slaps against her porcelain skin, turning the paleness into a singeing heat of redness. The woman yelped and pleaded him to stop but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He needed to break her. That’s his job. Tens of thousands of dollars hung on the line and if he didn’t deliver, he’d be wasting a month of his time. That’s not happening, Shamus thought, not on his watch. No slave hadn’t been broken under his hands. He had a reputation to hold up to and a lavish lifestyle to sustain.

His fingers finally rested between her legs. Wetness seeped out from the little crevice his fingers were. He hummed in approval, a reaction he had well-accustomed to.

“You are wet.” he informed.

The woman struggled to move away. Her face was covered with flowing tears and burning in humiliation. Shamus knew that reaction. He had seen enough to know that she’s loathing herself for reacting to the spanking. Unbeknownst to the woman, Shamus had known that the wetness had nothing to do with arousal. It’s only a bodily reaction, a flight or fight response that somehow weaved itself into the sympathetic sexual response. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use that against her in a scheme to break her.

To add salt to her wounded self-esteem, Shamus plunged his index finger into the damp void between her legs. The woman mewled at the invasion. He expertly rubbed the pad of his finger on the rough patch of flesh, the woman’s g-spot. The woman lunged forward, hoping to move her pussy away from the invasive digit, only to be caught by Shamus’s arm. He held her in position, keeping her pussy right where he wanted as he slipped in another finger into her yielding lips.

The woman arched her back. A carnal growl rumbled through her throat as her body rose to a fever pitch. She’s reacting to his touch. And she’s fighting against it. Shamus could see smell her resistance, the resistance he was trained to dismantle.

“Do you want to come?” he mocked.

“No! Stop!” she whimpered. Her voice strained with humiliation and anger.

Shamus encased her slender figure with his large built from behind. His free arm moved to her breast and he gripped the smoothness as hard as he could, drawing a squeal from his slave. His fingers drove into her with a vengeance, punishing and spreading the tightness.

“Come for me. Slave.” he ordered and just like that, the woman shuddered under his grip. A loud groan ruptured out of her throat as she arched her back.

“No!!!” she screamed before the air left her lungs completely. She jerked against him a few times as powerful orgasm ripped through her body. Finally, she collapsed forward, hanging exhaustively with her head hung low. Her chest heaved to fill her lungs with the much needed oxygen.

Shamus pulled the fingers out of her and was proud of what he had done. She had come on his order. He had crumbled a tiny part of her soul and the explosive orgasm was a testament to that. But he was far from done with her. It was only the beginning.

He went to a large silver cabinet placed against the wall and slid opened the glass door. A tiny green light at the corner of the cabinet told him that the sanitation was still functioning. If there’s one thing Shamus cared on his job was the well-being of the slaves under his ‘care’. No one likes a disease-ridden slave. The price of a sick slave would plummet so much, it wouldn’t worth his time training and breaking them.

There were five sliding drawers, each housed a class of torture/pleasure devices. He opened the third drawer, the drawer that housed dozens phallic objects of different shapes and sizes. Since this was her first day, he left out the meanest looking tools and picked up a rabbit dildo instead. It looked the least harmless when compared to the stud-covered hugeness and electrified terror. The badass dildos would be for another time, Shamus mused. He had a month, more than enough for her pussy to sample each and everything he had in the drawer.

On top of the cabinet was a large crystal goblet with hundreds of condoms in it. Shamus picked one and tore open the silver wrapper with his teeth. Tossing the wrapper onto the waste basket by the cabinet, he then unrolled the condom onto the rabbit dildo.

He walked back to her. She was no longer slouching and her head snapped towards the sound of his footsteps. A shiver ran across her frigid body.

“Open up for me, slave.” he growled. His arm slung over her neck and dragged her up until she was standing straight.

Without a warning, he plunged the dildo into her exposed sex. The intrusion threw the woman into a frantic struggle. Shamus felt her thighs flexed against his arm, trying her best to close her legs together to protect her sex. But the bar between her legs was made of reinforced steel. She would need a strength of a truck to break it. These fragile legs stood no chance at all against it and Shamus knew it.

He pulled the dildo out in a languid motion, taking his time to torture this piece of pussy. If he couldn’t fuck this pussy with his cock, he would be sure to fuck it with other assortment of phallic objects he had in his arsenal. The contract stated no cocks, but it didn’t say anything about using dildos. In fact, it said whatever necessary to break her. This, Shamus thought, was necessary.

He tightened the grip and shoved every hard inch of the toy back into her hole. The woman choked on her scream as she pressed the back of her head against his shoulder. A surge of excitement coursed through his body and his cock hardened to concrete. Damn, he wanted to take her.

But work was work. It’s not his place to go against the contract.

He flipped the switch at the underside of the dildo and a powerful motor sprang to life. The dildo awoke into a slithering monster inside her tight pussy. The woman groaned in ecstasy. Her body turned rigid. Every muscle fiber tightened as the monster twirled and gyrated deep inside her core. The tiny extension protruding from the base of the dildo sent intoxicating excitement directly to her exposed clit.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she screamed in a short burst of breath.

Her body shuddered and a gush of clear liquid jettisoned out of her pussy. Shamus quickly released her and she fell forward again. The slithering dildo was ejected out from the clenching muscles of her pussy. The aftershock of the explosive orgasm sent ripples of shiver through her body.

Shamus looked at his lavished designed watch. He waited and waited, patiently, until the second hand made a complete round. Then, he pulled the woman up again and shoved the lively dildo back into her drenched pussy.

“No!!!” the woman protested.

Shamus kept the dildo in place, forcing her pussy to grip, push, and clench around the mechanical monster. A shaky torrent of breath escaped her as her body was brought near to another mind-shattering orgasmic release. He could feel the twitching of the dildo caused by her desperate attempt to expel the monster. Not an option, Shamus mused. He pushed the dildo harder into her, locking it inside with his strong hand.

“Fuck! Please. Stop!” she pleaded with a trembling voice.

“You want me to stop?” he hissed.

“Yes. Please stop!”

“Please stop, what?”

“Ahhh…I don’t know.”

“Who am I to you?”

“My master. Ahh….”

“Please stop what?”

“Please stop, master! Ahh…..”

Shamus flipped the switch and the gear shifted to maximum, plowing all its battery power into an intense unforgiving stimulation to her pussy and she shuddered into another explosive orgasm. She then collapsed and her mind drifted into unconsciousness.

Three orgasms and she was out. Shamus shook his head slowly. She’s weak. He mentally noted down stamina training as part of the agenda. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Unhooking the rope around her wrists from the metal hook hanging off the ceiling, he brought the unconscious woman to a bed. He took a thin but sturdy chain and hooked it to the rope around her wrists. Even if she was to wake up, she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere.

Shamus sucked in a sharp breath when he saw her reddened pussy. An hour ago, that pussy was so pale, so dry and – so under used. Now, it was in several shades of crimson. He couldn’t wait to watch her pussy swallow each and every single toy he had to offer as she squirmed at the wrath of pleasure. His pants tightened, his erection roared in anger. Fuck. She looked so fuckable.

Shamus looked at his watch. It had only been an hour since she arrived here. He set the timer to allow her an hour of sleep. He didn’t usually allow his slave to sleep through training but he would make an exception for her. She’s a rare prize and needed a careful approach, he justified to himself.

He removed the condom around the rabbit dildo and tossed the drenched rubber into the waste basket. He placed the dildo into another basket. He would need to clean the dildo first before putting back into the cabinet. In the mean time of letting her sleep, he opened the cabinet and fumbled through two drawers. From the cabinet, he fished out a metal braces, a pair of nipple clamps and a set of weights each, a cat-o-nine tail, and a Hitachi magic wand.

Her day had just begun…



About robsam1991

Even though my stories depicts rapes and violence on women(mostly), i never once condone the action. Not even the slightest. In fact, i despise men who rape women. I never agreed on that women who wear provocative clothing were to be blame on for the rape; though they should take precautions when necessary to avoid risk. As a man, i think it's our responsibility to control ourselves and never let our urge out on innocent people. If you feel like raping someone, then treat a girl nicely so that she would opt for a role play where you can play out a 'rape' on her satisfyingly. Please use safe word.
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