Passing the Baton 2; Lila's Story
Chapter 2: The mild mannered torturer

Copyright© 2010 by Polecat

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 2: The mild mannered torturer - Did anyone wonder what happened to Lila? This is her story. Please read "Passing the Baton" first, or it will make no sense. Warning: Very dark but romantic story and contains snuff. You've been warned.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   BiSexual   Heterosexual   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Rough   Sadistic   Torture   Snuff   Interracial   White Female   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Fisting   Slow   Caution  

The few steps to the house, where Aisha stood waiting, seemed like miles to Lila. A day that started so auspiciously, they were leaving, going home, even if that meant several hours crated in the hold of the jet, had turned so bad, so suddenly. When Al-Mansur requested Juggy as payment for the Chinese chick, Lila knew she was done for. She held herself up for the sake of her master, as her final tribute to her role model, Sarah. Now, the reality of her situation sinking in, her fear digging at her guts, Lila felt her grasp, her control slipping badly.

A glance at the walls, too far, and all the armed men around, meant that she would not make it. Also it meant that her discipline failed. A voice told her that it would be better to be shot by one of the assault-rifle bearing thugs than the fate that awaited her. It would be much faster, much less painful, even if she was shot in the gut. Something kept her going however. She knew not where those reserves of valor came from. Her father died, years ago, when she was a little girl, in Viet Nam, or was it Cambodia? She was too young to remember him, but was told he was killed while attacking an enemy machine gun position. He would be proud of her, advancing on the chubby girl who waited for her at the wall.

Lila's mother had a phrase she often repeated when faced with a daunting task: "One step at a time."

Lila kept repeating this to herself as she approached Aisha:

"One step at a time."

Over and over again.

Aisha led her through a door into a long dark corridor. The air conditioning on her nude body made her shiver. They entered a large curtained hall carpeted with thick rugs. She led her behind a curtain and knelt in front of Lila. She licked at her sex, trying to complete her orders:

"Give her one orgasm," the sheik had ordered, and Aisha wanted to comply. Failure at any task was not tolerated at the Al-Mansur household.

Aisha did not understand why the folds offered to her tongue were so dry, like the desert in her native Arabia, but she persevered. Lila gently caressed the slave's head and slowly, very slowly, felt herself responding to the girl's diligent ministrations.

"I'd better enjoy this," she murmured "it will be my last."

Aisha stood up, embracing the thinner, taller girl from behind, caressing her breasts with one hand and her pussy with the other.

"Why the last?" Aisha said, breathless.

Lila did not answer yet; she turned her head and kissed the Arab girl on the lips, silencing her questions.

Lila turned and embraced Aisha behind the curtain. They both fell on the floor, rolling on the carpet, exciting, exploring and kissing each other. It took time, time and tenderness for Aisha to bring Lila off; by the time Lila's sex gushed, Aisha had come three times, under Lila's experienced touch.

They got up and Aisha led the way, holding her hand.

"Why the last?" she asked again.

"I'm to have my clitoris burned off."

The look of horror in Aisha's face shocked Lila.

"Aisha, you look like you have seen a ghost," Lila tried to comfort the girl.

Aisha opened a door and through her tears said, "Manu is down there."

Lila kissed Aisha, "Thank you for everything."

Lila descended the stairs; she expected the basement to be stuffy, hot with the flames of braziers, to hear the wailing of the condemned, the screams of the tortured. Instead she entered a plain, air-conditioned room, with an unlit fireplace, a leather armchair and, on the wall, instead of shackles, she saw long bookcases. A figure, a tall, dark man, sat on the armchair, a book in his hands.

"Good evening," he said, standing up politely; he seemed to be in his thirties.

Stunned at this display of manners, Lila felt self-conscious of her nakedness for the first time since she arrived at the mansion. Her hands started to move to cover herself, before her training took over and she restrained herself.

"You must be Manu, I was ordered to come to see you."

"I was expecting the Chinese girl; I see that your master traded you for her," his voice was soft and deep, "I'm sorry for you."

"He told me to tell you to give me ten cuts of the crop on my breasts and ten on my pussy."

"Impressive; you have been well trained."

"He said that after that..." Lila stammered, "After that, you are to burn off my clitoris."

Manu watched Lila closely, expertly; he made his living by reading other people's posture, body language, tone of voice. He read Lila, like a book, his reading made all the easier by her nude state.

"You know already what that means, here. He told you."

Lila looked at him; he saw anxiety, fear, and apprehension in her eyes, but not the panic he expected.

She answered, her voice calmer now, "No; he did not," she paused "but I do know what my fate is to be; if that's what you mean."

His eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch. Lila could read expressions and body language as well as him; all slave girls could, their very lives depended on predicting their master's moods and desires from the tiniest clues. She continued:

 
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