Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl, Book II

Chapter 2

The woman, whose name Denise was to learn was Tamara, pulled Denise to the center of the room and forced her to her knees. Tamara went to a closet and returned with a two foot long bar with leather bracelets on both ends. She attached the leather cuffs to Denise’s ankles. She affixed a short chain between the bar and the leather bracelets that held Denise’s hands in confinement behind her back. The chain from Denise’s collar she affixed to a ring in the center of the footboard of the bed.

Denise looked up forlornly at the gray haired woman. She knew why she had been chained there and knew that the old woman knew it too. Was she expecting pity? She didn’t know. The woman, seeing Denise’s unhappy eyes, gently stroked her face and cooed soft words to her. To Denise’s surprise, she began to caress one of her breasts, tenderly pressing it against Denise’s body and then teasing the n****e to hardness. She smiled and, after patting Denise on the head, turned and left the room.

The stillness of the room was oppressive as Denise commenced the wait for her owner. She had no doubt now that this man was acting for himself, that he had also taken her sister, Cheryl, and that the purpose of his ownership of her was to make her his s****l slave. She feared what he would do when he finally arrived. Would he beat her like he did in the apartment? Would he be happy just to force himself on her, to make her take his manhood in her mouth?

Her hands were sweaty with fear. She twisted them behind her back, testing her bonds. Her legs were splayed wide, forced apart by the iron bar between her ankles. Her mouth was dry and her jaws ached from the constant presence of her gag. To be deprived of a voice was to be deprived of humanity. Was she now less than a person?

Denise’s only consolation was that she was one step closer, or so she thought, to finding her sister. Was she locked away in a cell in this very house? Would she see her soon? It would almost be worth her captivity and torture if she could only know for sure that Cheryl was alive and well.

These thoughts ran through Denise’s mind as she endured the long wait for her master’s presence.

As the light outside was turning to darkness, Denise heard a heavy tread on the stairs outside of the room. Other than her own breathing, it was the first sound that she had heard since the old lady had left her there. The footsteps came closer and closer, the leisurely step of a man in his own element. The lock turned in the door and it opened.

The Turk stepped into the room and looked briefly at his prisoner. She was an engaging sight. He could see her breasts quivering with fear. Her n*****s were hard and her eyes were glued to him, wide with apprehension. He strode past her and went into the bathroom. Denise’s back was to him but she could hear him washing himself, relieving himself in the toilet. Her stomach was tense as she anticipated his use of her. She heard him leave the bathroom and then the unmistakable sound of the removal of clothes. She felt hands on her ankles, freeing them from their bonds. The Turk crossed in front of her and, taking her arm in his hand, lifted her to her feet. She saw that he was erect, and gave out a feint whine of unhappiness at her fate.

The Turk led Denise to the broad, brocade covered bed. He pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed and then sat her down on the mattress. He unlocked her hands from behind her back and pulled her to the head of the bed where he reaffixed them to a ring in the center of the headboard. Denise had no will to resist. She was as if entranced by the silent determination of this man. He handled her gently, almost tenderly as he spread her body across the bed.

Denise had expected many things, but not what followed. The Turk took her head in his hands and began to kiss her face. Then, burying his head in the crux of her neck, he ran his hands along her shoulders, down her sides and to her breasts. His body was hot against hers and Denise felt the beginnings of passion stirring in her loins. This man was going to take her, against her will, without her consent, but he was intent on making her complicit in her own violation. His mouth sucked on the n****e of her right breast as a hand descended down her left hip. It ran across her stomach, hesitated briefly at her furry bush, and then seized her s*x.

The confused and dazed woman could not prevent a moan from escaping from her throat. Turk forced her legs apart and delved his fingers into her moistening cunt. He grabbed the nub of pleasure between finger and thumb and pulled on it lightly, delicately. Denise could no longer restrain her passion as she spread her legs wide, yearning for the strong, dark man to possess her. She felt him lift first one and then the other leg over hers. He now knelt between her legs, his c**k pressing up against the entrance to her womb. She sighed deeply as she felt the lips spreading, his hard rod pressing its way inside her.

When the Turk began to stroke his c**k slowly back and forth, penetrating her deeply, Denise began to rock back. They were f*****g now, both of them. She wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs, pulling him deeper and deeper inside her. Her hands pulled futilely at her bindings as she yearned to circle her arms around his muscled flesh. She started to cry out in short, staccato bursts as her orgasm neared. Suddenly she felt the gag being loosened from behind her head. The thick leather plug that had stifled her fell out and was replaced by the Turk’s hot tongue and his hungry lips. At this, Denise’s crises came. She had never been f****d like this. She had never given herself over to a lover as she was doing to this cruel man who had stolen her very persona away. She felt the Turk come, his hips jamming hard against hers, a deep, rumbling groan accompanying the discharge of his hot fluids. Her orgasm started again, the pulses of pleasure almost too much to bear.

The couple lay enraptured for several minutes. The Turk stirred first, raising his torso off of hers, slowly drawing his flaccid, but still engorged c**k from her. She looked up at him with wonder. “What type of man is this?” she thought. How could such tenderness and such cruelty reside in one man? She opened her mouth to speak but his fingers stilled her lips. As he presented the gag once more to her mouth, her eyes began to tear. She wanted to speak, to learn his name, who he was and what was he going to do with her. She dutifully opened her mouth, however, and accepted the intrusion of the thick leather plug. It filled her mouth, widened her lips, as her teeth were forced apart. It pressed down her tongue as it reached to the very back of her oral cavity. And then the half mask was reapplied and she was again reduced to a status less than human.

The Turk sat on the edge of the bed savoring the sight of his property. He caressed her skin softly. He wanted to feel every inch of her, to enjoy the tactile sensation of her flesh. As his hands swept across her stomach, down her thighs and legs and back again, Denise closed her eyes and drifted into an exquisite languor. Her world became his hands as he kneaded her breasts, rubbed her thighs, her arms, her face, her neck, and her belly. She felt herself being turned and she rolled over, passively accepting this man’s desires.

Denise’s back and hindquarters presented a whole new field of exploration for the Turk. He drew his hands down her back and over the rounded cheeks of her ass. He spread her legs and entered her p***y with his hand from underneath her. As he stroked the still distended lips and pressed against her c******s, Denise raised her hips to ease the Turk’s access to her. Her breath became labored as her lust arose again. The Turk pulled Denise to her knees and spread her legs. He entered her from behind, plunging easily into her moist sheath. Denise was awash with pleasure as with each stroke, The Turk’s c**k pressed and rubbed against her sensitive, engorged c**t.

As the woman moaned and pressed herself back against the Turk, he pressed a finger against the tight ring of her anus. Slowly he insinuated into her ass, spreading and teasing the puckered ring. He had assaulted her there before, but this time he was determined to gain her cooperation.

Denise felt the Turk’s finger exploring her rear entrance. She discovered that the sensitive nerves around her tight ring sent tingles down into her v****a as the Turk manipulated one and then another finger inside. The strange and exciting feelings triggered her third orgasm of the evening. She came for what seemed an eternity as the fingers in her ass continued their pressure against the tender flesh of the entrance. She felt the Turk withdraw his hardness from her p***y. She knew what was coming and this time, she arched her back and presented her ass for penetration.

The Turk’s c**k was well lubricated from Denise’s fluids and the bulbous head glided easily in. At first, Denise felt pain as her tissues were stretched to accommodate the thick, wide member. But as the Turk drew his hard rod back and forth over the entrance to her bowels, Denise’s passion overrode any sensation of pain. It was if he possessed her to her very inner core. The tingles of pleasure ran all over her body. The Turk began to stroke at the rear entrance in earnest as he determined to reach his own climax. His pulsing spear of hardened flesh sent tremor after tremor of pleasure through him. He emptied himself deep inside of Denise, flooding her most secret and private place.

Denise lay still as the Turk rose and dressed. Her face buried into the mattress, she heard, but did not see him leave. The light in the room was dim and she drifted off into a trance-like state. She was shaken from her torpid state when the door to the bedroom opened again and the old lady entered. The woman freed her hands only to affix them again behind her back. She was pulled from the bed and led into the bathroom. In an oversized shower stall, the old lady carefully and thoroughly washed Denise’s v****a and rear. Her fingers carefully spread Denise’s lower lips to permit the warm, pleasant flow from a shower hose to enter and wash out the remains of the Turk’s discharge.

After being washed, Denise was dried with a soft white towel, the old lady humming softly as she tenderly patted Denise’s s*x and rear. Denise leaned against the woman as she squatted, her legs spread wide. The woman’s warmth and almost jolly demeanor was comforting.

After bathing her and fixing her hair, the woman reaffixed the chain to Denise’s collar and led her back downstairs. Denise could smell the aroma of cooking meat. She was led into the dining room where the old man was already sitting at the table. Three settings had been laid out and a large pitcher of red wine sat in the middle. Tamara motioned for Denise to kneel by the chair at the head of the table and when she did so, the chain was attached to a ring set at the top of the table leg at the corner.