Chapter 42

The last thing Sabine saw before the blacked-out goggles were placed over her eyes were the pictures of her family.

“Remember, Sabine, you are my product, and you belong to your owner as a slave before anything else. Think of what happened to Zara and her family. I’m sure your new owner will have their own methods to enforce discipline, but I hope they won’t need to resort to that. You must obey without question; this is your life now.”

The darkness deepened as Sabine was compressed and packed into a ball shape, just like she had seen done to the other girls. Silence and pitch-blackness were her companions for the next hours or days as she wondered if she might die. If she did die, would Pembroke still seek revenge against her family? Perhaps an accidental death would be the best outcome for everyone, except him.

A few weeks later, Faisal Khemdi celebrated his wedding to another extended member of the large Azmari royal family. It was a dull affair, and he was far from thrilled with his docile new bride. Their wedding night was boring, and Faisal hoped there would be plenty of available opportunities for excitement during their honeymoon in Cambodia.

The morning after the wedding, he looked at the plump, dark Arab woman beside him. He knew he would be in a world of trouble if anything were to be complained about to her parents, and he felt irritated by her presence.

He was intrigued by a wedding present from his father and wanted to try it out. He journeyed from his penthouse room in the family house to the basement, using the ring on his finger and his eyeball to gain access to the most secretive of rooms in the family’s secure underground bunker.

In one of the rooms accessible only to his father and himself, there was a sex dungeon filled with bondage equipment: whips, dim red lights, black and red walls, shelves lined with sex toys, and crosses, chains, racks, and cages adorning the walls.

A screen played a video on a loop, accompanied by soft Arabic music. It showcased a collage of photographs depicting a young woman across various stages of her life: school photos, family snapshots, professional portraits, and moments with friends relaxing and having fun. These were interspersed with press photos, audio and visual news reports about a missing girl named Sabine Muller, along with heartfelt interviews with her parents pleading for her safe return. The video then transitioned to the footage filmed by Pembroke, showing Sabine in a blue dress declaring her obedience. This haunting montage had been playing non-stop for days, as the occupant of the dungeon patiently awaited her new master to receive his wedding gift.

The occupant knelt within a small cage, built into the wall like a grotto. It measured just ten feet by four feet and included a toilet, basic shower, foldable bench, and small cupboard. Faisal held his breath as he observed her: she knelt on her heels, palms facing up, back straight, and eyes downcast.

“Stand up, slave,” said Faisal.

Sabine stood up, her eyes still downcast. She was resplendent in black stockings and suspenders, a red and black basque highlighting her bosom, and lacy black knickers. Her dark hair fell down her shoulders. “Look at me, slave.”

Sabine glanced up at her new master. She recognized him as the son of the man who had already bought and used her. He had the same vicious eyes, cruelly arched eyebrows, and an evil grin. He was shorter than her but well-built. He enjoyed her blue eyes, large and sad and vacant.

Remembering the wedding card instructions, he opened her cage with his family ring. This would be a fantastic respite from having to spend time with his wife.

“Slave, choose a whip from the wall with which I will strike you.”

Sabine wordlessly walked in her high heels, towering over her owner, and pondered which of the menacing whips to choose. Uncertain of their differences in pain, she hesitated, unwilling to appear to take an easy path. Finally, she selected one with a sturdy wooden handle and a slim leather lash, feeling its weight in her hands before handing it to him. She then stood at attention, her eyes once again cast downward.

“Thank you, slave. Now tell me how many times I should strike you.”

Sabine swallowed nervously and thought quickly. Too few and he might get angry; too many...

“Master, this slave suggests fifteen strikes to start.”

“Good. Stand against the wall, take off that basque, and present yourself.”

Sabine unhooked her basque and carefully placed it at her feet. She turned to face the wall, arched her back, pushed her butt out, and placed her palms flat against the wall. Softly breathing, she prayed she could endure this.

Faisal played with her first, gently swinging the whip through the air before letting it land softly on her skin. He took his time, allowing the whip to glide gently over her body, relishing the tension in her back and leg muscles with each teasing slide of the whip.

“Now, slave, it begins. Count each stroke and say ‘thank you, sir’ after each one!”

Faisal exercised some restraint; he didn’t want to damage her pristine skin before he had a chance to taste and enjoy it. However, upon seeing the taut, strong body of this woman, his initial impulse was to inflict pain and test her resilience.

He struck her across her upper back.

“AAAAHHHH ... OOOOO ... one, thank you, sir! Eeeeee!” Sabine hopped slightly on each foot, her hands slapping the walls in agony. She resisted the urge to move her hands to her back to comfort herself, even though she desperately wanted to.

Faisal moved to her back and ran his finger across the pale red line he had just created, satisfied at her obedience. It had not gone around to her breasts, just crossing her upper back.

He moved back and struck her again and again on the same spot.

“Two ... thank you, sir. Three! Thank you, sirrrrrr ... Four! AAAAGHHH, thank you ... SIRRRRR! ... AAAAGHH NOOO ... Five! THANK YOU SIR, AAAGGHHH!”

Faisal smiled at the shaking, vibrating, screaming woman who maintained her position despite the pain. The marks were neatly layered across her upper body. He couldn’t wait to inflict similar marks on those juicy buttocks, but it would be a sin to immediately mark that sweet flesh. Just marking one little spot would be enough for now.

When he reached fifteen, he reached over and ran his hand over the messy red space on her back, feeling the heat and the sticky bloody fluid that stuck to his palm.

“Slave, taste your juices on my hand, you see how I can make you juicy from the whip? Taste it, clean my hand.”

Sabine turned around, tears flowing from her eyes, and licked her blood from the evil Arab’s palms.

“Now, clean the whip with your mouth. I want it spotless!”

Sabine took the cruel whip and ran her tongue over the lash which had just ripped her skin, tasting the blood and sucking it off.

She maintained her posture as Faisal brought his face down to her buttocks. He pressed his face into her lacy knickers, nestling between her cheeks, breathing in her scent. Her buttocks felt wonderful on his fingers, barely any spare fat or overhang just a gentle firm swell over the top of her thighs as they met in a strong meeting point at her ass crack.

He bit deeply into her ass cheek, sucking the flesh into his mouth, his eyes closed as he savored the feel and taste. He moved his mouth around, twisting the flesh as if wanting to tear a chunk off.

Sabine tried to stay in the moment, but the experience was awful. She sucked hard on the lash of the whip, hoping he wouldn’t find any blood or falsely claim that he did. She bit down on the lash in pain as she felt his teeth clamp hard on her ass flesh.

Faisal took a step back at the beautiful figure in front of him, running his hands over her stockings, and over her pussy mound still covered by her panties. She was still obedient, still sucking on the whip and presenting her bottom obediently despite the pain. He ripped his own clothes off, and with his bare hands, tore her pretty lacy knickers apart and drove his tongue into her vagina, delighting in her fresh taste.

“Tell me slave, do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes Master, I only desire that you enjoy my body, and fucking me is the ultimate in the use of my body.”

“Good slave!” Faisal drove himself into her, with a passion far exceeding that of his deflowering of his wife. As Sabine continued to bite and suck on the lash of the whip, desperately hoping for no more pain, Faisal rubbed his hands all over her Amazonian body, her breasts, her taut tummy, and thighs, and pulled on her soft wavy hair, licking and biting on her ear. Yes, he thought to himself, he would restrict himself to his wife for duty and this slave for fun for now.