Chapter 55

Mrs. Parker murmured gently over Elira as the latter bent over the bed, sobbing. “Don’t worry, Elira, it’s a little sore now, but soon you will be right as rain,” Mrs. Parker soothed, her hands moving in slow, comforting strokes over Elira’s asshole, applying the cream.

Elira’s voice trembled as she spoke, her sobs making her words barely intelligible. “It still hurts, when will the pain go away?” she cried, her body shaking with each word.

Mrs. Parker continued to stroke Elira’s hair. “Your anus is a strong muscle, dear,” she said with a kind smile. “It will be good soon. Muscles heal, and so will you.”

Elira winced as Mrs. Parker applied the cold cream over her tender, inflamed asshole. She could feel the soothing sensation of the cream taking the edge off the pain, but the memory of the violation was still fresh, raw, and brutal. Standing up slowly, she tried to cover her embarrassment, her face flushed with a mixture of pain and shame.

Mrs. Parker noticed Elira’s discomfort and gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay to feel embarrassed, Elira. But you do have to get used to this kind of thing, I am afraid in this life, you will have this kind of thing done to you a lot. Hopefully, your owner will be a kinder man than Nadmim,” she said, attempting to console her.

Elira’s eyes flashed with anger and despair. “Or Konrad? Or Jamal? Or Dmitri? Or Mrs. Al-Haraz - she was the worst! I thought I was just going to be a prisoner, but this is just torture!” she cried, her voice breaking as fresh tears poured down her cheeks.

Mrs. Parker’s expression softened, and she pulled Elira into a gentle hug. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s hard. But the Master will be back soon, and they all behave better when he is here. The kind of men who can afford to buy you are more likely to be like him than the uneducated thugs here, so perhaps you might even tolerate being a slave with the right owner.”

Both women admitted to themselves that Master Pembroke was an alluring figure. He was strong, dominant, and sophisticated—the kind of master they could serve with a strange mixture of fear and admiration. Elira had even fantasized about him disappearing from the complex forever and taking her with him as his private slave. She had lost her virginity to him; at the time, she had found it brutal and devastating, but now she yearned for another chance to sleep with him and impress him.

She had missed him since he left and looked forward to his return, though she was terrified of the unknown and the possibility of being sent away.

Elira sniffled, her body shaking as she struggled to calm down. “But what if he’s not kind?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Parker did not answer. The probability of her new owner being “kind” was something approaching 0%, and they both knew it.

“Enough talk for now, Elira,” Mrs. Parker said gently. “It’s making you nervous.”

Elira nodded, trying to calm herself.

“Now, Elira,” Mrs. Parker continued with a smile, “one of the perks of staying with me is you get to wear some nice clothes!” She held up a delicate black negligee and matching panties. “Why don’t you put these on? They go so well with your hair.” She cooed, running her fingers through Elira’s strands.

Elira savored the sensation of slipping on the black panties, followed by the delicate sheer negligee. “Look in the mirror, isn’t it wonderful to wear something so lovely?” Mrs. Parker murmured, guiding Elira to see her reflection. The older woman, with her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, stood behind Elira, dressed in a sheer blue negligee and a matching thong. Her hands rested gently on Elira’s shoulders.

Elira traced her fingers over the fabric, relishing its snug fit. She could sense Mrs. Parker’s eyes on her, and through the mirror, she saw the older woman’s hand glide down to her hip, fingertips grazing the hem of her panties. The touch made her feel more exposed than when she was bare.

But she didn’t mind. Mrs. Parker’s kindness was a rare thing here, and in her bedroom she was safe from the other violent predators and the suffocating cauldron of pussy in the cell.

Mrs. Parker’s blue eyes bore into Elira’s brown ones as she turned the younger girl around to face her. Her fingernails dug into Elira’s toned buttocks, creating a mix of sensation and tension. “Elira, we need to take our pleasures as they come. The men do it, and you must learn to do so with our owner and enjoy everything. So...” She licked her lips, bringing her mouth closer to Elira’s. “Show me.”

A few weeks ago, the thought of kissing another woman would have baffled Elira. In fact, she had never kissed anyone until coming here, and even then, she had kissed her Master’s asshole before kissing anyone on the lips. Now, she had experienced so much lesbian and heterosexual sex, doing things she had never even imagined human beings did, that kissing Mrs. Parker seemed natural and even enjoyable.

Their lips met, and soon their tongues slipped into each other’s mouths. Mrs. Parker’s hands wandered all over Elira, treasuring the teenager’s firm stomach, perfectly straight from her ribs down to her mons, and over her perky breasts beneath the thin material of the negligee. Elira tentatively ran her hands over the older woman’s much fleshier body, finding some comfort in her large breasts and buttocks, almost feeling a wave of nostalgia for her own mother.

“Let’s lie down, sweetie,” Mrs. Parker said. She fell on top of Elira, their breasts mashing together as she passionately kissed the girl’s face, losing herself in the moment. Her hand slipped fully into Elira’s black panties. “We’ll keep these on; it seems a shame to remove such pretty panties after putting them on you! But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun inside them,” she smiled.

“Oh ... Madam ... I am sore there, remember?” pleaded Elira.

“Don’t worry, child,” Mrs. Parker reassured her. “I’ll just play with your little clitty and bring you some pleasure to ease your pain. But feel free to play with whatever you want,” she giggled.

Elira sighed in pleasure as Mrs. Parker licked her neck, rubbing her clit with her index finger and massaging her breasts with her other hand. Elira ran her hands down the blonde’s flesh, finding the soft satin fabric of her thong, and then the wet, soft flesh underneath, dripping with juices. She slid her finger inside.

“Oh, Madam,” sighed Elira, “I think I’m going to come.”

“Hmm, darling,” Mrs. Parker murmured as she stuck her tongue into Elira’s ear, “that’s just the first of many tonight. Believe me, you are good enough to eat!”

Elsewhere, the Russian sisters were with Jamal in his bedroom. It was understood they were to be sold promptly, so they were to concentrate on working as a pair.

Jamal still couldn’t believe he could have such beauty. Natalia’s buttocks were over his face, her inner thighs stretched and her pussy lips planted on his mouth as he chewed on her labia. Her asshole rested on his nose. Trails of sweat passed down her spine along her back dimples, down the valley of her cheeks, and trickled along the crinkled anus, dripping on his face, the salty taste merging with her pussy juices.

Facing Natalia was her sister Tatiana. She straddled Jamal’s giant body, riding his cock as it slid up and down into her pussy. She leveraged her thighs, pushing up and lowering herself repeatedly, feeling the giant cock hit her cervix and fill her insides with pleasure.

Each sister was gyrating and writhing with pleasure, their hips moving rhythmically. Their arms and hands were wrapped around each other’s heads, grasping their hair, their foreheads touching. Their hard nipples rubbed against each other’s breasts, creating an intense friction that felt like hard pebbles gliding over soft flesh. Their eyes simmered, boring into each other, and they kissed passionately every now and then, never letting go of each other’s faces and the back of their heads. They pressed against each other with an intensity beyond love, wanting to be as one.

“You cannot do this to me, you Arab bitch! I’m an American citizen!” Lucy yelled, her voice full of fire.

Despite being bound with her arms and hands securely behind her back, and her ankles connected by a cord preventing much movement, Lucy was angry and spitting rebellion at Mrs. Al-Haraz.

Mrs. Al-Haraz, however, relished this confrontation. The Yemeni woman was used to such outbursts and took a perverse pleasure in controlling and punishing the inevitable uprisings against her. “Spoiled American whore, you think because I am a woman you can say things you would not dare to the men!” she sneered.

The thought of breaking Lucy’s spirit even more only fueled her determination. She leered at the naked figure of the American, savoring the challenge that lay before her.

They were in Mrs. Al-Haraz’s bedroom. The garish bedclothes and Mrs. Al-Haraz’s equally garish teddy and French knickers did nothing to hide the hideousness of her burned face. Lucy was naked, as exposed as ever.

“Look at this,” the Yemeni woman said, touching Lucy’s swollen black eye. “And this,” she continued, bringing her finger slowly down over Lucy’s heaving breasts to her hip, where a bright red mark from an earlier cane strike stood out.

Suddenly, she slammed both her hands against Lucy’s buttocks, enveloping them. Lucy gasped in pain as Mrs. Al-Haraz smiled, her breath hot against Lucy’s face. Lucy’s buttocks were still red and bruised from the hard spanking she had received earlier, for her lacklustre efforts at sucking Jamal’s cock.

“I think maybe you like pain, you slut,” Mrs. Al-Haraz murmured, her lips brushing seductively against the trembling ones of the frightened American. “Is that why you are so naughty with me? You want me to hurt you, don’t you?” Her eyebrows arched, stretching the seared flesh around her eyes, their faces mere centimeters apart.

“No, I don’t. I just want to go home, I want out of here, I want my family, please ... please...” Lucy crumbled into tears, her resolve breaking. She lowered herself past Mrs. Al-Haraz’s face until she was on her knees on the floor, crying and shaking. She began praying unintelligibly, begging for someone, anyone, to help her, as tears streamed down her face.

Even though she had been violated many times, Lucy was still shocked by the application of violence while in such a vulnerable position. The powerful slap from the well-practiced Yemeni stunned her and sent her sprawling on the ground. Unable to protect herself with her hands, her face hit the floor.

“No crying here! You are not a little girl; you are a woman, and you will be treated like a woman,” Mrs. Al-Haraz barked, her voice cold and commanding. “Now get on the bed!”

Lucy cursed herself as she succumbed to the inevitable, awkwardly getting to her feet before limping onto the bed with her ankles and wrists constrained.

“Hmmm,” Mrs. Al-Haraz murmured as Lucy, unable to help herself, ended up on all fours on the bed, her legs spread. “Nice!”

Lucy shrieked as she felt the Yemeni woman’s face press between her legs. Desperately, she tried to turn around on the bed, closing her legs, trapping Mrs. Al-Haraz’s face between her thighs. The Yemeni woman hungrily brought her mouth to Lucy’s pussy, her tongue exploring with fervor. Lucy struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the pain of the restraints and the intense sensations of the tongue on her pussy lips.