Read Shameful Reckonings Online

Authors: S. J. Lewis

Tags: #Erotica

Shameful Reckonings (7 page)

After a while, the woman stopped screaming, but the hopeless cries of misery that replaced the screams were somehow worse. The wall was chilly against Giancarla’s back and, since the reed mat didn’t cover everything, the hard stone floor was even chillier against her bare ass, but she stayed huddled in the corner. Her ‘trainer’ had said that he’d leave her alone for a little while. That meant that he would be coming back, and she dreaded what would happen then. She had told him what she’d thought that he wanted to hear, even though he would certainly know that she was lying. He had punished her for that. But what would have happened if she’d told him the truth? She listened to the unknown woman in the other cell, keening and crying nearby, and felt utter despair creeping over her. She wanted to be out of this terrible place, even if she had to die to escape it. She had been clinging to the hope that Nicholas had sent her here to teach her a lesson. That hope withered and died as she realized that he had washed his hands of her completely, and had sent her here to be lost and forgotten forever.

The door to her cell clanged open, startling her awake. She looked up fearfully through her tangled hair and saw that her trainer had returned, and he was still smiling.

“Get up, you lazy bitch,” he ordered. “Stand up!”

Whimpering and trembling, Giancarla worked herself to her feet, sliding up along the cold, hard wall. She couldn’t bring herself to break contact with it for some reason.

“You look a right mess,” her trainer observed. He beckoned her with a finger. “Come on, Gia,” he said in that mild voice that was somehow more frightening than when he yelled at her. “Your day’s not over yet.”

Her heart sank. She imagined all of the things they could still do to her, but as much as that fear prompted her to stay pressed against the cold stone wall, her fear of that man was even greater. She took a first unsteady step away from the wall and almost toppled over. Her shoulder bumped up against the other wall, steadying her. Her head felt light, her legs weak and unsteady. She inched her way towards him, leaning up against the wall until she came close enough for him to reach out and grab her by her hair. She winced at the pain, but didn’t cry out. She let him lead her out of her cell to some new and unknown horror.

Chapter Six

She didn’t know where they were going, or why they were going there, but Giancarla didn’t dare ask. She was miserable, she was hurting, and her stomach was still unsettled. If her trainer was taking her somewhere to add to all those woes maybe it would just make it easier for her to curl up and die. She almost hoped that it was so. She felt reduced to the status of an animal… maybe even less than that. She was a thing to be beaten and used, and she hated it. But she also seemed to be completely trapped here, wherever ‘here’ was. She didn’t know for sure, but it felt somehow as if she was on the far side of the world.

Her trainer led her along a series of corridors cut through the rock and into a large chamber. There were several other naked women already there, standing in a line. All of them had their hands tied behind their backs. All of them also had collars buckled around their necks. Chains ran up from those collars to brackets set in the roof overhead. Opposite the women, sitting comfortably in chairs, were two men. They looked Caucasian, and were dressed in jeans, work shirts and boots. On a table between them sat a pair of expensive-looking video cameras. The men were smoking cigarettes and observing the half-dozen naked women.

Giancarla risked a look at those women herself as her trainer buckled a collar around her neck. None of them looked Caucasian at all. Most of them looked Japanese, Chinese, or Korean. Giancarla could never tell them apart. One seemed to be East Indian. She was a tall young woman with long, slim legs and long black hair. The last woman was black, but with finely-chiseled features. Was there a chance that she was an American too? Then Giancarla’s trainer ended her speculations with a hard slap to her ass.

“Let’s get started with this one here,” he said to the two seated men. They both stood up, dropping their unfinished cigarettes on the bare stone floor and crushing them out under their boots. They hefted their video cameras and approached. Giancarla would have shrunk back away from them, but the collar kept her more or less in place, unless she wanted to choke herself. One of them aimed his camera at her and switched it on while the other went around behind her.

“I know you look a fright, Gia, but this is your ‘before’ shoot,” her trainer said to her. He ruffled her hair as he might ruffle a dog’s head before brushing it back off of her face.

“Number A-644,” he said to the cameraman, who zoomed in on Giancarla’s tear-streaked face. “American, age 24. Already examined and found in perfect health. Height five-foot four…ah, that’s 162 centimeters. Weight, one hundred and twelve pounds, or just shy of 51 kilograms. No tattoos, no piercings. Name, Gia. Say hello to the camera, Gia.”

“Hello,” Giancarla said in a tiny voice.

“She’s just come from her initiation, so she’s a bit of a mess,” her trainer went on. “But I’d just like to point out some of her more appealing features. For example, these,” he cupped her breasts with his hands and jiggled them, “are absolutely real. I’m sure that Gia is quite proud of them. Am I right, bitch?”

“Yes, sir,” Giancarla whimpered. She had hated being called Gia for as far back as she could remember, but she didn’t dare complain about it now.

“Nice nipples, too,” her trainer went on, rubbing his thumbs across them until they were partly erect. “Give us a close-up of them.”

The cameraman leaned in, getting a closer shot of her dark, swelling nipples. Giancarla wanted to scream and fight. She didn’t dare.

“Next, notice her nicely-rounded figure,” her trainer went on. The cameraman stepped back and panned up and down Giancarla’s naked torso. “Well-defined waist, tight belly,” he patted it familiarly, “and good, solid hips. It’s enough to make any man think about fucking her good and hard. Now, we go a bit lower… stand with your feet together for a bit, Gia,” he said.

Sniffling, she obeyed, wondering what that was all about.

“Zoom in there, boyo,” her trainer told the cameraman, who promptly knelt down and zoomed in on Giancarla’s now-hairless pussy. “Notice how, even with her standing like this there’s a sweet little gap here between her upper thighs. We always look for this in the females who come here. It means that she’s easily aroused, and almost always hot for sex. She’ll make a superb love slave for some lucky man. Get a good shot, there.”

“I know my job,” the cameraman replied.

“Good. Now spread your legs, Gia.”

Still sniffling, Giancarla obeyed again. She felt like livestock now, which was probably how the terrible people here regarded her.

“Look at these thighs!” her trainer exclaimed as he patted and caressed them. “Nice and round and solid. There’s no fat here at all, just smooth flesh and muscle. Imagine her clamping them around your hips as you ride her hard all night. And down here,” his hands slid down past her knees to her calves, “just more prime female flesh. She played a lot of tennis, so her legs, as you can see, are in really gorgeous shape. Now let’s get some profile shots, shall we?”

Giancarla stood perfectly still as they filmed her from both sides. Her trainer went on about how gorgeous she looked, how perky her tits were, and how nice it would be to fuck her. Then they filmed her from behind, and she heard her trainer singing the praises of her lovely, tight, round ass. She wanted to die. What were they doing this for? To humiliate her further? How much more did they think they could do that? It was just plain cruelty, nothing more. What did they think they were doing?

Then she remembered that her trainer had said ‘love slave’… and he’d said he was her
trainer
. She had a sudden, horrifying realization. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could do that her trainer’s hand was clamped over her mouth and his hand held her by her hair.

“Saw it in your eyes, Gia,” he murmured into her ear, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. “You just now figured out what’s going on here, didn’t you?”

Giancarla looked up at him out of the corners of her wide, wide eyes and nodded. He was smiling again. It was a particularly nasty smile that made her shiver.

“Well, let me tell you, little Gia,” he went on. “We get lots and lots of women here. You aren’t anything unique or special, no matter what you heard me sayin’ earlier. That was just a sales pitch. All you are right now is a nicely-packaged pussy. That could be worth a lot of money to us, once you’re trained. But believe me, Gia,” he gave her head a rough shake, “If you turn out to be too much trouble, I’ll just turn you over to a gang of nasty men who’ll probably just beat you and fuck you to death. Got that?”

Giancarla whimpered and nodded jerkily.

“Still want to scream?” he smiled. Giancarla shook her head ‘no’ and whimpered again.

“Good girl.” His smile turned less wolfish. He let go of her hair and patted her ass almost affectionately. “Now just wait right here while we finish our work, all right?”

***

The men worked their way down along the line of naked women, leaving Giancarla, now merely Gia, sniffling and sobbing at the unjust cruelty of her fate. What had she done that was so terribly, terribly wrong? She knew that the other trophy wives had affairs… all of them did! She hadn’t done anything other than what everyone else was doing.

She thought briefly of letting herself sag so that the collar would choke her to death, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She couldn’t help hearing the comments made by her ‘trainer’ as he put each of the other women through the same humiliating process as he had put her through. Was he ‘training’ all of those women too?

She heard him calling out the names and nationalities of the other women. She didn’t remember all of the names, but it seemed that two of the other women were Japanese, one Korean, and one Chinese. The black woman…her trainer called out her tribe, instead of her nationality, and the information meant nothing to Gia.

Finally, it seemed that it was all done. The cameramen went off somewhere and the trainer began unbuckling the women’s collars. They stood obediently in place until he came to Gia and freed her. He left their hands tied.

“That way!” he bellowed, making the women jump. He pointed down a corridor opposite the one Gia had come in, and amplified his order with a rapid barking out of other words in different languages. Gia recognized ‘move it’ and suspected that he’d said something similar to the other women. She turned and followed along after the other slaves. Her trainer followed along behind, keeping an eye on them.

They passed through a wide doorway. The corridor turned left, and now the air felt warmer and damp. It wasn’t until the other women came to a stop that Giancarla realized that the corridor dead-ended here in a wide, tiled area. She saw showerheads poking out of the walls at different heights.

“Hold still,” her trainer growled at her. He began untying her hands. Once they were freed, she looked at her wrists. There were deep rope marks on them. For the first time, she realized that her fingertips were a little numb. She started rubbing her wrists gently.

“Untie the others, bitch,” her trainer snapped. He slapped her ass hard. Giancarla jumped and yelped and moved to obey. It was strange, untying the other women, and her fingers wouldn’t completely cooperate. That earned her more hard swats on her ass until she was crying in sheer frustration. She was
trying
to do what he said, wasn’t she? Didn’t that count for anything? And why did they have to make the knots so tight?

Finally, after several more harder and harder swats, she freed the last of the other women. She turned to her trainer and looked up at him fearfully.

“Show them all how the showers work,” he told her. “And all the other stuff too. Get cleaned up, and don’t be slow about it.” Then he slapped her. Gia stumbled back away from him, and then turned to see where the nearest shower controls were. She was trembling, and she couldn’t stop it, but if they were going to let her keep clean it meant that they weren’t thinking of tossing her away to be beaten and raped to death, at least not yet.

The shower control was a single knob. You pulled it out to start the water flowing and turned it one way or the other to make the water warmer or colder. Turned all the way to one side, though, the spray never got any hotter than lukewarm. There was soap in a tray set into the wall. Gia took it in her hand and held it up for the other women to see and then began lathering up.

It felt very, very strange to be showering naked with a gaggle of other naked women. She’d never liked doing that, even back at the club, and she liked it even less here, with the other women all staring at her curiously. It was a huge relief when they seemed to get the idea and wandered off to find their own showerheads. The single-knob control seemed to baffle them all at first, though, and the walls rang with echoes of yelps and squeals as chilly water struck bare flesh.

Gia turned around to let the spray course down her back. She saw her trainer standing not too far away, leaning against the wall, watching the show with calculated interest. His eye caught hers, and he winked at her.

She turned away from him immediately and concentrated on washing herself. She didn’t think that she’d ever feel really clean again, but she could at last be cleaner than she had been. The soap didn’t lather up all that well, but it had a faint, pleasant scent. She spotted two fixtures sitting along the far wall. It took her a moment to recognize them as bidets. So that’s what the trainer had meant by ‘all the other stuff’. She had tried hand-washing her pussy, but it was still too sore for her to do that without wincing. She looked back once to see if the trainer was still watching. He was. He looked from her to the bidets and back again and nodded.

Gia sighed heavily. She rinsed the scanty soapsuds off of her and trudged over to one of the bidets. She saw one or two of the other women turn to look at what she was doing. She hadn’t expected to find such a civilized piece of plumbing in this place, but she welcomed the warm water softly caressing her still-sore pussy. Grateful that she could keep her back to the trainer, she reached down and spread her lips so that the bidet could wash her more thoroughly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lone black woman on the neighboring bidet, trying to copy what Gia was doing.

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