Willow Book III Master Carl
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, NonConsensual, Coercion, Slavery, Horror, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Rough, Sadistic, Torture, Caution,
Desc: Horror Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Book III in the Willow series is set in an extreme universe where absolute female slavery is allowed and even promoted by society and the government. This is the continuing story of Page, Willow, Heather, Lord Blackmon and Master Carl. What happens when Lord Blackmon returns? How will Carl adjust to Lord Blackmon's return? Will Heather become a slave in the mold of Page or will she find a different way to endure her enslavement? Who will they meet along the way? Read and find out!
"Who are you?" his voice was weak but, for the first time since returning, his eyes were clear.
The young redhead was startled by the voice but quickly recovered, "Sir, I am Heather." The man in the bed stared at her trying to place the face and the name. Heather saw the frustration and said, "Sir, we have never met. I have been helping Page and Willow take care of you." At the mention of Page, Lord Blackmon closed his eyes and slipped back to sleep. He knew he had made it back home.
Heather made sure he was just sleeping again, and then went to tell Page that he had spoken. She knew Page would want to know right away.
The self-made billionaire Lord Blackmon had nearly died many times in the past six months. Out of grief he had planned and sponsored an expedition to Antarctica to place weather monitors in the frigid waters there. He thought he could leave his personal demons behind and do something adventurous. He left his house and his slaves in the care of a man named Carl and headed south.
The expedition did not make a very good start of it. There had been issues with the ship and equipment from the beginning, a fact that frustrated the perfectionist engineer no end. He had been told when he hired the ship that it was reinforced for work in icy conditions. He had been told the ship's equipment was in good working order. None of that was true, only new paint hiding a weak hull and deferred maintenance. As bad as the material situation was, he was even more concerned about the personnel. Trust was what Lord Blackmon valued most and he was learning that he could not trust the Captain or his crew. His trepidation was proven sound.
Lord Blackmon's innovation had been to create a scientific weather monitoring buoy that could be placed in waters that were freezing over without the equipment being crushed by the moving ice. They were placing the monitor buoys near areas of the ice sheet that was calving icebergs. It was hoped the units could provide scientists climate data on a more reliable basis. But placing the buoys was the hazardous part. He had made promises to three universities that he could get them the data. Despite the reservations regarding the ship and crew he decided to continue. They had started behind the set schedule when he ordered the hull of the ship reinforced. But other equipment failures continued to cause them to fall further behind.
The ship had run very close to the continental size ice sheet when the crane on the ship had broken again. This delayed the placement of the fifth monitoring unit for days. While they waited, the ice field around the ship began closing in. The First Mate, a man Lord Blackmon had learned to respect, pleaded with the Captain to leave the area and come back when it was safer. The captain assured Lord Blackmon that it would be ok, but soon the ship was locked in place surrounded by the shifting ice.
The ancient ice sheet two miles away was almost a thousand feet high and hundreds of miles long. They were never sure why it happened but on the third night a wedge shaped piece of the ice sheet, almost a quarter of a mile across, broke off about a hundred feet above the sea. The equivalent of twenty Empire State buildings in weight hit the icy water at over one hundred miles an hour. The result was a two hundred foot tsunami studded with chunks of ice, some as big as a house, came roaring at the ship. It caught the two hundred foot steel vessel on the port beam. When the massive wave hit it rolled the ship four times and drove it onto a ridge of ice with the stern twelve feet out of the water. Both engines were destroyed along with both generator sets, the ship's bridge and radio equipment. Nine of the crew died in those first few moments including the Captain. Because the ship was partially stranded on the ice, the flooding from the rips in the hull did not sink the ship right away. The eleven surviving members of the crew, including Lord Blackmon, had been tossed around like ping-pong balls. Everyone was hurt to some extent including the First Mate. The injuries included a broken hip, two broken legs, four broken arms, and one skull fracture. The survivors that could move managed to close the water tight doors and keep the flooding from sinking the ship. However their problems were just starting.
There was no power to move the ship and there was no electricity. If something was not done, they would all freeze in a matter of hours. Lord Blackmon knew that there was a fuel sight tube in a passage that was only partially flooded. By the dim glow of a flashlight he cobbled together a simple oil heater from a coffee pot and vented it through a port hole. He then waded into the knee deep frigid waters to recover a pitcher full of heavy bunker oil. Five hours later one of the staterooms was edging up above fifty degrees. They at least would not freeze to death.
In the meantime, land based crew members in New Zealand were becoming concerned that they had lost touch with the expedition ship. It would take three days before the authorities could be convinced to start searching for the missing vessel. It would take almost two weeks before the crippled ship was found partly obscured by the ice. In that time, Lord Blackmon made four more trips to retrieve fuel to keep the stranded crew from succumbing to the killing temperatures. He had also located first aid kits and food. But each trip away from the heated space and into the partially flooded compartments did more damage to his feet and hands. By the time the rescuers arrived, he had frostbite on his hands, feet, and ears and was running a fever. The surviving First Mate said that Lord Blackmon's ingenuity and courage had saved them all from an icy death.
Lord Blackmon spent six weeks in an Australian hospital fighting the frostbite and a stubborn case of pneumonia before the private Boeing 767, sent by Madam Carronade, returned him to California. His hands were still bandaged but were healing. The doctors found gangrene on his damaged feet and amputated the tips of two toes on his left foot. His bandages needed changing and the frostbite blisters treated with a salve three times a day. But it was the pneumonia that was the final danger. He ran a fever on and off for weeks. He mostly moaned and sometimes thrashed around endangering his delicate wounded hands and feet. Pain medications helped, but kept him in a twilight of understanding. The fever finally broke for good and they began weaning him off the medication and feeding tube. Now it was a matter of him regaining his strength and faculties. Page insisted that they could manage that best at home.
Page was his slave.
Heather found Willow in the workshop. It was a stone and brick building tucked in the far corner of the garden. The slave, with the dark short hair, wearing her slave collar and nothing else, was sitting on a chaise lounge with her legs spread wide. Her eyes were focused on Page who was across the room.
Page was on a device she had named the Space Walk. It was one of many devices found in the workshop and garden that had sprung from the fertile mind of Lord Blackmon. It was so named because it used what looked like a space helmet that covered Page's face. In truth the clear faceplate and helmet combination was meant for a firefighter to connect to an air tank but now its hose was connect to a valve that was operated by the dildo that at that moment was partly impaled in her sex. The valve was closed and Page could not get any air into the helmet. She had begun to suffocate. To open the valve, she had to completely impale herself on the large flared dildo. She lowered herself onto the electrified dildo, but that meant it started shocking her pussy. She also had sticky contact pads on her tits connected to the same system. After ten to thirty seconds of fresh air, the shocks started and rapidly increase in intensity. The only way to stop the shocks was to push up and partially off the dildo, but that also closed the valve to her helmet and thus her air supply. She was being forced to choose between pain and breath.
"Mistress, why is she doing this?" Heather asked as she was drawn into the horror of what she was witnessing. Page's hands were cuffed behind her back and behind a pole that ran floor to ceiling. Sweat from the physical exertion covered her naked body. Her ankles where shackled to a spreader bar holding her legs open. They were trembling. As Heather watched Page seemed to be convulsing as she struggled for a breath. Suddenly Page slammed down on the dildo, took a deep breath and then began to twist in pain. Because of the clear faceplate, every expression of pain and gasp for breath could be seen.
Willow looked over at the red headed slave, "Lord Blackmon gave her some tasks to complete while he was gone. Our detour in San Francisco and at the Nimitz Hotel kept her from completing many of the assignments. She is trying to catch up before Lord Blackmon finds out. But if that is all you consider, you will miss the most important lesson you can learn here." Heather looked back at the drama unfolding in front of her, "You need to answer that question for yourself. 'What would compel you to willingly mount that thing and set the timer for two hours?' If you want to survive as a slave, you need to understand how and why Page would do this."
Heather covered her face with her hands. She did not want to watch Page gasping for air or use what air she had to scream in pain. Willow suddenly stood up and approached the smaller redhead. She took the redhead by her hair and turned her so she was again facing the tortured blonde, "You see this and are shocked that Page, the smartest and strongest slave you will ever meet, would choose to do this. This ... confusion on your part is a failure in your training. I have not taught you what you need to know, or you simply do not believe it. Maybe I need to up your challenges a little. Before the week is out, I will make sure you will take your first walk in space." Willow forced the terrified redhead to her knees and made her watch the last half hour of Page's ordeal. Page had begun to fatigue to where her descents onto the dildo were violent. The last few minutes Page hung there, impaled and twitching, unable to lift herself and stop the electricity surging through her pussy and tits. But at least she could breathe.
The timer sounded and the system shut down. Willow unlocked Page's wrists, helped her remove her helmet and lowered the adjustment on the dildo so Page could escape the instrument of pain. Willow helped Page to the shower stall at the back of the workshop and held her while water washed away the sweat of exhaustion, the stink of terror and both of their tears. Willow held her in the warm spray until her legs could hold her own weight again. She wrapped the spent slave in a soft towel and led her to the lounge. Page sipped on a glass of juice and looked up at Heather and gave her a weak smile.
"Lord Blackmon spoke to me," Heather said to Page.
Ten seconds later Page was lurching across the garden towards the house.