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Edward Pembroke – Slave Procurement Part 4

13604 words | 3 |3.83

New girls arrive and training intensifies

Chapter 11

Elena Petrova was nervous about traveling to Turkey, so she spoke to her friend, Vitaly. Vitaly had so far avoided being drafted for Ukraine but was heavily involved in protests against the war.

“Elena, I know of this guy Nikolai Sokolov, but I think he is dead. What if this is some kind of trap?” Vitaly voiced his concerns, his face etched with worry.

“Why don’t you come with me, Vitaly?” Elena suggested, her voice tinged with hope. She was secretly enamored of Vitaly; his presence made her feel safer. She wanted this project to go through so badly, she was blind to any risks. Travelling abroad was a dream, and Turkey seemed so romantic.

Vitaly hesitated for a moment, considering her proposal. “Yes, Elena, I think you need a friend. I just have a funny feeling about this,” he finally agreed, his protective instincts kicking in.

While Elena Petrova was excitedly planning her trip to Turkey, her secret dreams of movie stardom coupled with her motives to stop the war, less pleasant events were unfolding in Pembroke’s compound in southern Turkey.

The Zephyr made another easy entry into Karacask, Turkey, and the cargo was swiftly smuggled aboard a van driven by Jamal and three other men. They drove past the entry gate and the barbed wire, proceeding towards the hangars. Once through the security doors, they were greeted by Mrs. Al-Haraz, who awaited them with a smile. She knelt down, her gaze hardening as she looked at the two girls being dragged along behind the four men.

Sabine and Anna had been in hell for almost a week. Their trek in the mountains had transformed into a kidnapping, into brutal rape then a voyage across the sea and now into a forbidding compound.

The girls, naked, bound, and gagged, walked with cords passed between their ankles, limiting their strides. Their journey from the beautiful lake had just seemed one long descent into hell. At least they were not split up … yet.

They were shocked to be led into a large cavernous hall, containing a large cell, with clear glass walls, containing 4 naked women. The women gathered at the cell walls placing their hands on the glass, watching the new arrivals.

Sabine and Anna were shocked at the sight of the four frightened girls and the two women leading them, one of them a blond older woman in a mini skirt, and the other a deformed/mutilated Arab woman in a black dress, who leered at them with evil eyes from her scarred face.

Pembroke had changed into his suit, in order to provide a theatrical introduction. The girls cowered in silence at the evil monster’s return.

“Ah … Miss Muller and Miss Gao, finally we can have a proper introduction! Ladies, you may have known me as Clemence Carnot, or Philippe Pain, but in reality, I am Edward Pembroke! The name may well be famous in years to come, as the procurer of beautiful girls from the world of fun and liberty, to the wealthy men of the world willing to pay a fortune for young female flesh!”

Pembroke smiled as he surveyed his audience. The grinning men, the sombre overseers and the shivering girls.

“These other girls are probably tired of hearing this speech. But it is important that you hear it. You girls are the most valuable asset on earth. Wealthy men will pay vast sums of money to own you. To hide you from the world. To own your life more than you do. To be able to eat you, to kill you, to do anything with you.”

“I Edward Pembroke have opened up the first genuine company that caters to the real nature of the super rich how now own the world. They don’t want cars or paintings. They don’t even want wives or prostitute. They want humans to own. Hundreds of years ago, the Khans could demand girls to be tribute and do what they wanted with them, fuck them or sacrifice them. But now all these wealthy men have to be oh-so-careful with their wives and all women. What they will want is bitches like you. Dead to the world. Beautiful, elegant, from good loving families, to be disposed of as they wish, not how you wish. You will be owned by another human, you are no longer fully human. Embrace it! You are the first of a new breed, complete sex slaves!”

“You, Anna Gao, you have been pre-ordered. Someone wanted you, so you have been taken. You, Sabine, your future remains a mystery, but you are beautiful, clever, elegant, there will be some man out there, perhaps some man who has already seen you, maybe your boss who knows? Who has the power and the money, who can choose to take your life from me and have you in his own little world, to do with you what he pleases.”

The two girls were petrified of this madman. Edward Pembroke was crazy. His eyes gleamed with a fanatical light as he spoke, his words sending chills down their spines.

“I am sorry, girls,” he continued, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “I know you think your lives, what you thought would be your lives, would be fun and happy. But the lives I have chosen for you will be among the most select in the world! Elite, among the richest in the world, you will endure pain, misery, and a lot of degradation, but you will be serving the very cream of human existence in a way 99.99% of the world would refuse to do!”

He watched the eyes of the girls open up in horror as his words soaked in. Their breasts heaved with terror, and Pembroke looked at their gorgeous torsos. Charlotte, with a physique that thousands of tennis fans had slavered over for years now, now naked in front of him, Sabine, her pure white skin shining with sweat.

“These girls here, I captured them, just like you. You will stay with them. They are being trained.” Pembroke leered at Anna. “Anna, you were always going to be captured, you have been ordered.” He turned to Sabine. “You, on the other hand, Sabine, you are here because I needed a way to kidnap your girlfriend. And not only have got my target, your girlfriend, I have you, a new slave! For another owner, I will market you and sell you make money and you will end your life serving a rich man. And Dmitri, I have a new employee. I am sorry, Sabine, you were just too silly, too stupid. But too beautiful to pass up!”

Pembroke strode up to Sabine, menacingly, and ran his finger between her legs, from her anus, through her pussy lips, up to his lips, and sucked. “You had 21 fun years, Sabine. Now the rest of your life will be spent as a sex slave. Your beautiful body will be a plaything. You will be trained to serve, to objectify yourself, to perform the most disgusting tasks that right now, in the dark recesses of your mind, you are thinking won’t happen to you. Surely, you won’t have to do that. Well, bitch, you will!”

Mrs Al-Haraz had a sixth sense as to her Master’s perversions and stepped forwards to cup Sabine’s pert buttocks.

“I know you little cunts liked to lick each other’s pussies, and don’t worry. You will be licking every pussy you see here, but don’t think that your love for each other means anything to me.”

Pembroke turned to Anna, and lowered his head and bit into her nipples, causing her to squeal. “It is important that you know your place. Sex, and violence. That will be your life now, for the rest of your life. I don’t think you sheltered girls know much of violence at all, and the only sex has been fun, the kind that you allow when you feel safe. But from now on, that will not be the case. Your bodies are now my property and we will do with them what we want, which is mainly to stick her cocks inside you.”

Pembroke ripped off their gags, The girls coughed, and Sabine shouted. “Let us go, you are all fucking animals Dmitri, let us GOOOO”

Pembroke calmly rolled his arm back, and slapped Sabine across her face with all his might. She was lifted off her feet, and landed on her side with a sickening thud.

“You fucking ANIMAL!” Anna Gao screamed at him. Her lover had been assaulted and she could not bear it. “You leave her alone. You pervert, you won’t get away with this! My family, the police…”

Pembroke raised his arm and struck Anna under her chin, sending her sprawling onto her back. “I have got away with it. You stupid cunts can ask these girls, who is coming to rescue them. You will join them now. I am afraid you fucked up, your deaths have been reported as an accident, they are still looking for your bodies at the bottom of the lake. Here you will be trained to serve the wealthiest men in the most disgusting ways imaginable and will eventually be sent out to a hidden place somewhere else. Listen, Sabine and Anna, whatever you said to your loved ones last, that was the last thing they will hear from you. You will never see your families again! Ever! You will serve men, and you will die, that is just it for you.”

The girls cowered in pain and fear. They looked into the cell at the four sullen naked catpvies. Sabine was astonished to see the face of Charlotte Spencer, who had been in the news as having been kidnapped weeks ago in Paris. What kind of organization was this?

“Now, Mrs. Parker, I expected a little show from you and Mrs. Al-Haraz. Can we expect it now?” Pembroke’s voice held a sinister edge as he addressed the women.

“Master, if you so desire it. We can hold it now.” Mrs. Parker stood to attention, answering with conviction.

Pembroke smiled. “Excellent, Mrs. Parker. Mrs. Al-Haraz?”

“Yes, Master.” Mrs. Al-Haraz’s voice dripped with determination, matching her rival’s resolve.

“Excellent, why don’t you ladies take your girls out and get them ready! You can go to opposite corners of the hall!” Pembroke commanded, his tone cold and authoritative.

He opened the cell, and the two women led their girls out. Charlotte and Zara sullenly followed Mrs. Parker to one corner of the hall where a table stood, their steps heavy with reluctance. Mrs. Al-Haraz, on the other hand, pulled Fatima and Camille by their arms more aggressively, pushing them towards a table in the opposite corner. Her determination to win, to outshine Mrs. Parker and her girls, was palpable.

Mrs. Parker, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor, brought out the costumes for the girls. She turned to Charlotte and Zara – “Remember, we do this for the Master. Show him your dedication.”

Charlotte and Zara nodded, their faces pale. They knew resistance was futile and that any defiance would only lead to harsher consequences, especially now the Master and the men were here.

Across the hall, Mrs. Al-Haraz barked orders at Fatima and Camille. “Stand straight! We will not lose to them. Now get dressed!”

Fatima and Camille had the same expressions of fear, and disgust at what they were going to do. Mrs. Al-Haraz’s aggressive approach only fuelled their anxiety, but they knew they had no choice but to comply.

Pembroke watched from the center of the hall, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He relished the control he held over these women and their girls, the power to command and the ability to break them. The hall was silent except for the shuffling of feet and the heavy breathing of the participants.

“While, the girls are getting ready, let us gag Sabine and Anna. We don’t want any outbursts to spoil our viewing. You girls should watch and learn. This what the rest of your lives are going to be like, whether here, or wherever I sell you to.”

The three men helped to gag the girls, running their hands over breasts. Jamal was thrilled at the new additions. He had Sabine sitting on his lap on a chair, while Anna sat on Pembroke’s lap. Kwame and Dmitri sat on another sofa, drinking beers, looking forward to the show.

The atmosphere in the hall grew tense, the air thick with anticipation. Pembroke’s eyes flicked between the two groups, savoring the spectacle of control and obedience as his hands went to Anna’s nipples, tweaking them gently.

Sabine and Anna watched with horror while squirming on the laps of their abusers, trying to deal with the wandering hands. It seemed each team of girls was changing into rather complicated outfits.

The girls put on black leather high-heel boots and then their overseers began securing an intricate BDSM harness around their torsos. The older women tightened the main strap around their midsections, just below the ribcage, securing it with a metal buckle at the front. From this central band, they pulled the shoulder straps over their shoulders, connecting them to the back of the central band, ensuring a tight, supportive fit.

Next, they attached the vertical straps from the central band, guiding them down the smooth stomachs and between the girls’ legs. Each girl gasped as their overseer pulled the straps up tight, eating into their pussies. These straps converged at a point near the lower back, where they fastened another adjustable buckle, creating a secure fit that prevented the harness from shifting. With the harness in place, the overseer attached reins to D-rings at the front and back. The thick, sturdy leather and polished metal buckles gave the harness a durable and visually striking appearance.

Mrs Parker had done both her girls with the harness and looked over nervously at Mrs Al-Haraz’s team. She was still finishing up with Zara on the harness.

“OK girls, you know what is next, just relax and bend over the table.” Mrs Parker whispered the girls. Charlotte and Zara bent down their breasts cushioning against the table. They made brief eye contact with each other, then turned away to face into the table surface, ashamed and humiliated.

Mrs Parker had two little butt plugs with artificial horse hair pluming out. She went to Zara first, spread her cheeks, and worked the strap to one side, until her puckered anus was visible. She leaned in close, and spat at it repeatedly. She put her index finger on it, and wriggled it inside while patting her buttocks as if to console her. Zara grimaced at the finger inside her but knew more was coming. The strap was biting in even more on her pussy lips with it being pulled aside and she wanted it over with.

Mrs Parker put the butt plug in her mouth to lubricate it, and then placed the tip on the center of the sphincter muscle, and pushed in gently. “Come on Zara, open up for me darling!”

Zara grunted and clenched her teeth as she tried to relax her sphincter muscle, finally feeling it enter, expanding inside her, and allowed her ring to close around the end. “There, said Mrs Parker, as she fitted the strap to one side of the butt plug, keeping the taut pressure between her legs but allowing the flamboyant horse hair to flow out. “Now you can thank me for all the practice!”

Mrs Parker had spent hours forcing the girls to obey her and take the butt plugs in their assholes. She was glad, they had screamed in agony for the first few days of it, and could barely walk properly during it or after, no matter how much she licked and fingered the assholes beforehand. But after a week while the Master had been gone, their assholes had now adapted to the butt plugs.

The men laughed and cheered as Zara’s exposed rump now sported a flowing mane. Mrs Al-Haraz noticed that Mrs Parker was ahead of her, cursed and spanked Fatima’s buttocks eliciting a yelp. “Open that fucking asshole, bitch,” she hissed as she angrily licked then stuck two fingers into the tortured hole. She had spent the last week forcing the butt plugs into her girls with gusto, cutting the sphincters to ribbons, drawing blood, and enjoying it. Now, the injured holes were clamping shut, even thought the poor girls were desperate to open up to get it over with.

Mrs Parker’s kinder, gentle approach had paid dividends and Charlotte’s little pink anus opened up invitingly after just a few gentle kisses from her overseer. She gently eased the buttplug in, and now both her girls had flamboyant horse tails.

Mrs Parker wondered if the girls would thank her, though. She spent days having to overcome their reluctance, particularly from Charlotte who regarded her as a filthy disgusting scumbag. Pembroke had noted with interest that Charlotte now seemed to sport a faint bruise above her eye, and guessed correctly that Mrs Parker had finally snapped and struck her, telling her it was for her own good. The spoiled little Ms Spencer needed to get used to the new reality. Her future owner might be even more brutal.

She pulled each girl’s arms behind their backs, sliding their arms and hands into the single sleeve so that their limbs were conjoined in one tight, restrictive encasement. As she pulled the sleeve up, she adjusted it to ensure their shoulder blades were pulled together, creating a taut and immobilizing restraint. The tightness of the sleeve forced the girls’ shoulders back, adding to their already submissive posture.

Sabine, sitting on her Master’s lap, saw all this with growing revulsion. She watched as Mrs. Parker meticulously placed the pony girl headdresses on the girls’ heads, securing them tightly under their chins. The sight of the leather straps and the forced, submissive postures made her stomach churn.

Her discomfort turned to horror as Mrs. Parker moved on to the single sleeve black gloves. Sabine’s eyes widened in disbelief as she saw the girls’ arms being pulled behind their backs and slid into the single sleeves, conjoining their arms and hands in a tight, restrictive encasement. The strain on the girls’ faces as their shoulder blades were pulled together and their arms immobilized was almost too much for Sabine to bear. She felt a wave of nausea, a mix of fear and disgust welling up inside her, making her shift uncomfortably on her Master’s lap, which only made his cock harden and jut in between her buttocks through his trousers.

Anna was watching Mrs Al-Haraz being even rougher with her girls, cursing and spanking them for her own mistakes in getting the headdresses on. She dared not look down at the huge round hands of Jamal which were cupping her breasts and scrolling up and down her stomach. She felt like she was sitting on a pointy rock, such was the hardness of his apparently huge cock poking into her.

Pembroke took a pen from his jacket pocket and pushed Sabine forward and down slightly, and started writing on her back. It was a score card “Parker – Al-Haraz”. Sabine moaned as the tip of the pen raked across her skin but Pembroke did not care.

“My girls are ready, Master.” Mrs. Parker guided the two girls to the center of the hall, in front of Master Pembroke. The girls stood rigidly, their faces a mix of determination and fear, their harnesses and headdresses gleaming under the dim lights.

Mrs. Al-Haraz cursed under her breath as she continued to put the single sleeve on her girls, her movements growing more agitated as she realized she had been slower. “Hold still!” she snapped, struggling to secure the straps as quickly as possible. Fatima and Camille winced but complied, their eyes darting nervously towards the center of the hall where their competitors already stood.

Master Pembroke watched with a cold, assessing gaze, his satisfaction evident. He turned his attention to Mrs. Al-Haraz and her girls, his expression stern. “Hurry up, Mrs. Al-Haraz. We don’t have all day,” he commanded.

“Yes, Master,” she responded, her voice taut with frustration. With a final tug, she secured the last strap on Fatima, then quickly moved to adjust Camille’s harness. Despite the rush, she ensured that each strap was tight and each buckle secure, unwilling to present anything less than perfection.

Finally, Mrs. Al-Haraz led her girls to the center of the hall, joining Mrs. Parker and her team. “My girls are ready as well, Master,” she announced, her tone clipped but respectful.

Pembroke pushed Sabine off, and got up and walked to the girls, checking their harnesses and playing with the horse tails. “Great effort ladies!”

He went back down and pulled Sabine over on his lap again, and wrote on her back. Mrs Parker had been quicker, but both sets of harnesses seemed good.

“OK, now, Mrs. Parker, present your ponies!” Master Pembroke commanded, his voice echoing through the hall.

Mrs. Parker stepped forward with a nervous smile. “Parade, girls!” she ordered firmly.

The girls obeyed immediately, beginning to march in unison. They raised their knees as high as they could with each step, their movements deliberate and synchronized. They moved in a circle around the hall, encircling Mrs. Al-Haraz and her girls. Each step was precise, their posture immaculate, with heads held high and eyes focused straight ahead. The sound of their boots clicking against the floor filled the hall, creating a rhythmic pattern that emphasized their discipline and coordination. Mrs. Parker watched intently, her gaze following her girls’ every move, ensuring they maintained their perfect form.

After several laps, Charlotte and Zara were tiring. Their breasts jiggled with each step, and sweat started to lash down their bodies. Their knees were getting lower each time, and Mrs. Parker produced a riding cane, gently smacking their bottoms to remind them. “Knees up, girls!” she commanded, her voice firm yet encouraging.

Charlotte and Zara, though exhausted, tried to muster the last of their strength. The sting of the cane spurred them on, and they forced their knees higher, pushing through the fatigue. Mrs. Parker could see the desperation in their tired faces, their eyes still focused ahead with determination.

The rhythmic sound of their boots hitting the floor continued, albeit with more strain now. Their heavy breathing was now interspersed with gasps and whines of effort. Mrs. Parker moved alongside them, her presence a constant reminder of the expectations they had to meet.

“You’re doing well, girls. Keep going!” she encouraged, her voice softer yet resolute.

Charlotte and Zara, driven by Mrs. Parker’s encouragement and the sting of the cane, pushed on. Each step was a struggle, their legs feeling heavier with each passing moment. Sweat dripped down their bodies, their muscles burning with fatigue.

“Enough, girls, bravo!” Mr. Pembroke started to applaud, his claps echoing through the hall. He was soon joined by Jamal, Dmitri, and Kwame, their applause creating a chorus of approval.

Charlotte and Zara stopped their march, standing still in the center of the hall. Their breasts heaved with each labored breath, and they lowered their heads, feeling the weight of their exhaustion. Their bodies trembled with the effort they had expended.

Mrs. Parker gave the girls a reassuring nod. “Well done,” she whispered, proud of their performance despite the challenges.

Pembroke then turned his attention to Mrs. Al-Haraz and her girls. “Now, Mrs. Al-Haraz, present your ponies!” he commanded.

Mrs. Al-Haraz, feeling the pressure to match or surpass Mrs. Parker’s presentation, quickly directed her girls to the center of the hall. Fatima and Camille, now fully harnessed and ready, took their positions.

“Parade, girls!” Mrs. Al-Haraz ordered, her voice sharp with determination.

Fatima and Camille began their march, raising their knees high with each step, mimicking the disciplined movements of Charlotte and Zara. They moved in a circle around the hall, their focus intense as they worked to impress Master Pembroke.

The hall once again filled with the sound of boots hitting the floor, the rhythmic pattern underscoring the girls’ efforts. Master Pembroke watched intently, comparing the performances, while Mrs. Parker observed from the sidelines, her eyes still on her own exhausted but resilient team.

Camille and Fatima tired much sooner than Charlotte and Zara had. As their pace slowed, Mrs. Al-Haraz’s frustration grew. “Knees higher!” she shouted, her voice echoing sharply through the hall. But Fatima, in particular, struggled to comply. Her legs trembled, and she lost her posture, her head lowering in exhaustion after just a few laps.

Seeing this, Mrs. Al-Haraz brought the cane down on Fatima’s bottom much harder than Mrs. Parker had on her girls. The sharp cracks of the cane echoed in the hall, eliciting pained screams from Fatima. But despite the harsh punishment, there was no improvement in the girls’ performance. In fact, the strikes only seemed to hinder them further, sapping what little strength they had left.

Camille, seeing Fatima’s distress, also began to falter, her movements becoming erratic and uncoordinated. Mrs. Al-Haraz’s shouts and strikes created a chaotic scene, starkly contrasting with the earlier disciplined performance of Mrs. Parker’s team.

“Keep moving!” Mrs. Al-Haraz barked, but the girls were already at their limits. Fatima stumbled, nearly falling, and Camille’s steps became more of a shuffle than a march. The high-heeled boots and tight harnesses, their aching assholes, combined with their exhaustion, made it impossible for them to maintain the required form.

Master Pembroke watched with a critical eye, his earlier satisfaction replaced by a stern frown. “Enough!” he finally commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. The hall fell silent, save for the labored breathing of Camille and Fatima.

Mrs. Al-Haraz’s face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment as she stepped back, her eyes downcast. Fatima and Camille stood still, their bodies heaving with exhaustion, their faces wet with sweat and streaked with tears.

“Disappointing, Mrs. Al-Haraz,” Pembroke said coldly. He made more marks on Sabine’s back with his pen. “Now, we are still in the early stages, so no need to fret yet girls” He nodded at the dejected looking Fatima and Camille, still grunting in pain and exhaustion.

For the next part, Pembroke had been inspired to bring a scooter he had picked up from a shop in Karataş. It was a child’s scooter, and he had thought it useful for this event, giving it to Mrs. Parker and Mrs. Al-Haraz for their duel.

This time, Mrs. Al-Haraz went first. She attached a harness to the D-rings on her girls’ harness and brought the scooter behind them. She took the harness in her hands, and as instructed, took her hands off the control handlebar of the scooter. She was wearing high heels and a short black PVC mini skirt, and she tottered dangerously on the scooter, just able to have her two feet planted on either side. Standing up straight, she held her girls by the harness as if she were on a chariot.

She steadied herself and ordered, “Advance.” Camille and Zara resumed their stride pattern, wearily trying to lift their knees again. However, their thighs now felt like lead, and the weight of the scooter with Mrs. Al-Haraz on it made moving all the more difficult. They had to strain just to get it going, their teeth clenched with effort. Their strides were hard to keep in tandem, and their heads bent down to the ground, seeking more power to pull the scooter and their overseer.

“Poor form on your girls, Mrs. Al-Haraz,” Pembroke commented. He admired the girls’ efforts, noting the taut and defined muscles visible in their abdomens and the sheen of sweat glistening on their skin, but he wanted them upright.

“Heads up!” Mrs. Al-Haraz shouted, raising her cane. She struck the girls on their sides, reminding them to straighten up.

“I cannot!” wailed Camille, sweat now dripping from her face to the floor.

Pembroke tutted loudly. Kwame took a swig of his beer and remarked, “Hmmm, now they are talking? Not going well for this team.”

Dmitri and Jamal laughed, adding to the mounting pressure on the struggling girls.

Mrs. Al-Haraz screamed at her girls, “No talking! No excuses! Heads up, knees up, pull! Pull!” Her voice was sharp and commanding, driving Camille and Zara to push through their exhaustion and pain. She angrily raised the cane again, but lost her balance and fell off the scooter, landing on her backside on the ground.

The sudden loss of weight on the scooter made the girls lurch forward. They stumbled in their own high heels and fell forward, their arms helplessly bound behind their backs, unable to stop their fall. They landed face down on the ground, the impact resonating with a dull thud as they struggled to catch their breath. The scene was chaotic, with Mrs. Al-Haraz fuming and the girls trying to recover from their unexpected tumble struggling to get to their feet.

The men were laughing their heads off. Mrs. Al-Haraz got up and hurriedly helped her girls to their feet, each of them now crying in pain.

The girls continued, pushing through their pain and exhaustion. Mrs. Al-Haraz wisely chose not to use her cane anymore, opting instead to shout encouragement.

“Come on, girls, you can do it! Just a bit more!” she urged, her tone more desperate than supportive.

Anna squirmed uncomfortably at the gruelling spectacle even more than the giant hands planted on her breasts. The girls’ neck muscles strained, their faces turning purple from the effort. Their attempts to keep high knees and heads up were now almost completely abandoned, with their focus shifting solely to pulling the scooter around in a circle at an increasingly slow pace.

“That’s enough, girls,” said Pembroke.

The girls both gasped in relief, dropping to their knees with their heads bowed almost to the ground as they caught their breath.

“Now, Mrs Parker, get your girls ready.”

Zara and Charlotte had been watching the other girls with horror. Zara found it impossible to watch her cousin’s face, choking and turning purple, her eyes bulging with effort. She had been relieved when their ordeal had ended. But now, it was their turn to start.

However, Mrs. Parker’s insistent training came to their aid. She had drilled them relentlessly, preparing them for this moment.

“Remember your training,” Mrs. Parker whispered firmly. “Stay focused, keep your form, and you’ll get through this.”

But within seconds, the plan went wrong. Mrs. Parker, dressed in a blue mini dress and high heels, found herself just as handicapped as Mrs. Al-Haraz. As soon as the girls took a few steps, she wobbled on the scooter, leaning first to one side and then the other, before falling to the ground with her legs akimbo. The men laughed and leered at the sight of the blonde woman’s white knickers on show.

Mrs. Parker, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, quickly scrambled to her feet, adjusting her dress. “Alright, let’s try that again,” she said, attempting to regain her composure. “But more steady this time, girls.”

The girls continued. They were tired and their thighs burned from the earlier effort. Charlotte secretly thank the older woman for putting her through her paces all week, while Mrs Al-Haraz had been more concerned about having her girls lick her all over.

With their knees lifting high and chins held up, Zara and Charlotte marched in unison. Despite their exhaustion, they managed to maintain a steady rhythm, their training evident in every step. Mrs. Parker watched closely, offering words of encouragement, while trying to stay balanced.

Mrs. Parker nervously glanced at Master Pembroke to gauge his reaction. She saw him smiling at the two young girls, clearly admiring their form, their sculpted young physiques, and the defined muscles in their thighs as their legs went up and down.

Mrs. Parker’s spirits rose, but her momentary distraction proved costly. Once again, she lost her balance, this time falling off and landing hard on her arm. The men burst into laughter, adding to the already tense atmosphere. Zara and Charlotte looked back nervously as Mrs. Parker struggled to get up, nursing her wrist and crying in pain, tears flowing down her cheeks.

Mrs. Al-Haraz cheered with an evil smile, clearly relishing Mrs. Parker’s misfortune. All the other females gasped in sympathy, their concern evident as they watched Mrs. Parker struggle.

Mrs. Parker got back on the scooter, trying to ignore the sniggers from the men as she again sought her balance and gripped the harness. As the girls moved off, she felt the pain in her wrist intensify as Zara pulled the harness, but she had to stay balanced, knowing her girls were doing so well.

Mrs. Al-Haraz watched with envy at the girls’ form. Zara and Charlotte’s knees and chins remained high, their wiry torsos exposing every sinew of muscle straining to keep going.

Mrs. Parker prayed that Master Pembroke would call an end to it as she kept wobbling. The girls found themselves being pulled all over the place from her erratic hand movements as she desperately tried to stay stable. Eventually, Charlotte felt a strong pull from Mrs. Parker as she tried to prevent herself from falling over. Charlotte lost her own balance on her high heels and fell back onto her bottom. Mrs. Parker, tottering on her high heels, also fell, this time hurting her ankle.

“Oh dear, Mrs. Parker, you are letting your girls down!” Master Pembroke remarked, making more notes on Sabine’s back.

Mrs. Parker, determined to see it through despite the pain in her ankle and wrist, got back on the scooter. She wiped the tears from her eyes, resolved to not fall again. Zara and Charlotte, pulled with renewed effort, their movements synchronized and focused.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Master Pembroke commanded, “Stop!”

Mrs. Parker put away the scooter and stood with her girls, limping slightly and holding her wrist. Despite her pain, she maintained a composed demeanor. Zara, and Charlotte sank to the ground, their bodies trembling from the exertion.

“Good spirit shown there, Mrs Parker!” Master Pembroke was impressed, and really enjoying this show. “Now, ladies, you can taken the harnesses off your girls.”

The girls allowed their overseers to remove their headdresses and sleeve gloves. They rubbed their arms, which were almost numb from being trapped behind their backs for so long, while their overseers unbuckled and removed their harnesses. The girls gasped with relief as the tight straps were removed from around their torsos, especially when they were released from the constricting tight straps between their legs.

Zara and Charlotte, Fatima and Camille, all stretched their limbs, feeling the blood flow back into their arms and legs. The overseers then helped them out of their high heels. Finally, the overseers took the horse tail butt plugs out of their girls’ assess. Mrs Parker took considerably more care than Mrs Al-Haraz who yanked each one out aggressively with one pull, eliciting pained screams from her girls.

The girls stood in front of Master Pembroke, rubbing their arms, and their sore asses, exhausted. The overseers stood with arms to the side, awaiting instruction.

“Really good show, wouldn’t you agree gentlemen?” Master Pembroke turned to his three male employees.

The men nodded and hummed in appreciation. “Credit to Mrs Parker for not giving up!” Kwame raised a beer in salute of the woman, who bowed in return.

“Indeed.” Master Pembroke now went on “For the next round, I want to test your anal muscles.” All the girls in the room flinched, the men raised their mouths in smiles.

“Now, Mrs. Parker’s team, I want you all on your hands and knees, facing that wall,” Master Pembroke instructed, pointing to the left wall.

Zara and Charlotte, along with Mrs. Parker, obediently got on all fours, positioning themselves as directed. The four men, along with Sabine and Anna, had a side view of them, with Mrs. Parker positioned on the far side.

The girls were still sweating and breathing hard from their exertion, dreading what was coming next. Mrs. Parker cried out in pain from having to put weight on her injured wrist in the position but bit her lip, determined to get through it.

Master Pembroke observed them for a moment, noting the strain and effort each one was putting in. “Maintain your positions,” he commanded. “This exercise is about endurance and discipline.”

Master Pembroke turned to Kwame. “Kwame, remember what we talked about. Please take out the white chocolate.”

Kwame grinned, pulling out a large bar of white chocolate with thick chunks. He walked along each girl, admiring their asses, leering as he went. The girls could feel his eyes on them, adding to their discomfort and tension.

“Now Kwame, put a chunk of chocolate up each of their assholes, just enough so it is not sticking out. You will need to remove Mrs Parker’s knickers for her.”

Kwame grinned, and knelt down behind Charlotte. The men cheered and laughed as he ran his hands over her buttocks, and he pushed the chunk of white chocolate into the girl’s anus, still winking slightly from having been stretched by the butt plug. Charlotte’s face was red from this humiliation, even more so than the pony play. She felt the chunk bulge into her rectum. Kwame moved on to Zara and did the same thing, then with Mrs Parker he forced her legs together, pulled her knickers down and then off her legs, exposing her like her girls. He admired the older woman’s meatier pussy. The pain in her wrist and physical strain of maintaining her positions was evident in every muscle, including her sphincter muscle, surrounded by a ring of creased skin, unlike the smaller buttonhole anuses of the younger girls. He forced a chunk of chocolate inside her, and Mrs Parker sucked in air at the pain that shot into her wrist.

“Excellent, now keep holding the position, ladies and let the chocolate melt for a few minutes. Keep your assholes shut tight!”

Master Pembroke took a drink of beer and shared some jokes with the men as they killed time. They were enjoying the spectacled immensely. Sabine and Anna tried to sneak glances at each other, they each exchanged expressions of horror. Sabine mouthed “I love you” at her lover, to try and support her, in the midst of this hell.

Pembroke checked his watch. “OK, five minutes, that should be enough. Now, Mrs. Al-Haraz, you and your girls get on your hands and knees behind each girl. Mrs. Al-Haraz, you get behind Mrs. Parker. Captain against Captain. Hands on the ground at all times, and position yourselves right behind the girl in front of you so you are touching them with your nose!”

Mrs. Al-Haraz and her girls obediently got into position, each one aligning themselves directly behind the girls from Mrs. Parker’s team. Mrs. Al-Haraz positioned herself right behind Mrs. Parker, her nose almost touching Mrs. Parker’s backside.

“Remember, hands on the ground at all times,” Pembroke reiterated. “Now I want you to look at the asshole of the girl in front of you. Mrs Al-Haraz’s team, you will have three minutes in which you must suck, lick, and eat as much of the white chocolate out of the other girl’s asshole as possible. No hands, only tongues!”

Fatima was behind her cousin, and staring at her tiny brown star made her retch. She had been forced to lick her pussy before but this was a new low.

“OK, now start!”

The girls tentatively placed their tongues against the little stars in front of them, smelling and tasting sweat and the faint whiff of chocolate. In contrast, Mrs Al-Haraz furiously got stuck in, running her tongue over the anus in front of her, circling it and stabbing it. Mrs Parker clenched her asshole tight, determined not to let the angry tongue enter her and take away the chocolate she held in her rectum. But the Yemeni woman was a strong licker, and motivated.

Mrs Al-Haraz attacked the white woman’s asshole as if her life depended on it. She felt it give a little, and worked her tongue inside, and rejoiced in getting a bit of chocolate on her tongue. Hungry for me, she slabbered and slurped against the soft flesh of Mrs Parker’s anus, then sucking and hovering up as much of the sweet chocolate as she could.

Mrs Parker was trying to clench herself shut, but the pain in her wrist and ankle made it hard to concentrate. The rough tongue was loosening her up. Mrs Al-Haraz had an inspiration, and lowered her tongue to her pussy, and sucked on her clit. Mrs Parker sighed with pleasure against her will and her opponent spotted her anus relax and widen, opening into a small pinhole, the white globs of chocolate visible within the small gape. Mrs Al-Haraz brought her tongue swiftly back up and drove it insider, this time flickering it against the woman’s inner walls and sucking so hard it hurt Mrs Parker, but the pain did not help her closing up.

In contrast, Zara and Charlotte were faring better. Each did not want to open up their assholes for the tongues behind them, although each found a small frission of pleasure from the oral skills working on them. Fatima and Camille were tired, their arms hurt, and they hated doing this. The little pink holes were not opening up, and their lazy licks were not prising the muscles open.

“Time is up!” Pembroke watched Kwame go up again, to inspect the ladies.

Mrs Al-Haraz and her girls stood up as the other team stayed on all fours. Kwame first went to Mrs Parker and stuck a long thick finger up her ass, and fished around, feeling for something, anything. He brought his finger out, and saw barely a trace of white and when sniffing it, barely any smell of it, or taste when he sucked it.

“No chocolate let, boss!”

Mrs Al-Haraz’s mouth was full of the taste of the white chocolate. She grinned with pleasure. Mrs Parker sighed in defeat, her asshole had been conquered.

Kwame then went to Zara and his finger went hoking through her asshole. He fished out globlets of white chocolate, sucked them off his fingers, then put it back inside, and brought out even more. “Boss! Her ass is full of chocolate, I don’t think the other girl got any out of her ass!”

Mrs Parker cheered inwardly as Mrs Al-Haraz cursed Fatima and her lazy tongue. The next was Charlotte, who grunted as the large finger fished her insiders, bring out several fragments of white chocolate. “Boss, even more chocolate inside this girl, her ass held it all!”

Mrs Parker discreetly clenched her fist in triumph as Mrs Al-Haraz shot an angry look at Camille.

“Now, Mrs. Al-Haraz, get your knickers off and have your team face the other wall. You will get on all fours this time,” Master Pembroke commanded, his voice authoritative. “Position yourselves correctly. Hands on the ground at all times, and maintain your form.”

Mrs. Al-Haraz complied, removing her knickers and signaling her team to turn and face the other wall. She got down on all fours, her face showing a determination, she turned her face to the two girls. “Keep those fucking assholes tight, OK!”

Kwame forced the chunks of white chocolate into the assholes of the three females, and the hall waited for a few minutes for it to melt inside them.

“Now girls,” whispered Mrs. Parker, “Remember to be patient. Just use your tongues like I told you, like we practiced, and before long they will relax, OK? You both did really well, we can win this.”

“Yes, Mrs. Parker,” Charlotte said, her voice a mix of exhaustion and determination.

Mrs. Parker nodded at her with a tight smile, acknowledging their shared effort. Despite the animosity between them, they were both in this together.

“Now, ladies, get your faces up to those asses. Mrs. Parker, you are behind Mrs. Al-Haraz,” Pembroke spoke with real passion, eager to see how this round would go.

Mrs. Parker, fighting through the pain of her injuries, positioned herself behind Mrs. Al-Haraz, her face close to her rival’s exposed backside. Zara and Charlotte followed suit, moving behind the other members of Mrs. Al-Haraz’s team, their faces inches away from their targets.

Mrs. Parker stared at her target: the crinkled dark brown, almost black star of the Yemeni woman, nestled amid her coffee brown buttocks and bright pink pussy lips. The sphincter muscle was wound tight and contracted even as the Englishwoman looked at it. Her nemesis’s anus would be a difficult treasure trove to break into, but Mrs. Parker knew she had to reach the prize of the white chocolate behind it.

“Remember, girls,” she whispered to Zara and Charlotte, “take your time and be gentle. We know what we’re doing.”

Both Charlotte and Zara were shocked and disgusted at the state of the other girls’ anuses. They were bleeding and open, evidence of Mrs. Al-Haraz’s rough treatment. This brutality would now be her downfall, as the girls found it difficult to close the damaged holes.

“Now, three minutes start now!” Pembroke raised his hand theatrically.

Mrs. Parker leaned in and gently applied her tongue to her target. It remained sealed. Mrs. Al-Haraz clenched her teeth, shut her eyes, and fought to stop the sensation of Mrs. Parker’s tongue from loosening her sphincter muscles. Mrs. Parker felt as if she were tonguing a brick wall. Even forking her tongue, she could not gain any purchase or make progress through the sphincter.

In contrast, Zara and Charlotte were working well despite their revulsion. The initial taste of blood had given way to the taste of chocolate as their tongues wormed their way into the holes. Fatima and Camille fought to try and seal their sphincters, but the irresistible sensation of the hot tongues and the pain from being stretched earlier combined to make it fruitless to close their walls against the invading tongues.

Mrs. Parker, sensing the resistance, adjusted her approach. She applied more gentle pressure, using slow, deliberate movements, trying to coax the sphincter to relax. She whispered words of encouragement to Zara and Charlotte, hoping to inspire them to push through their own challenges. “Keep going, girls. We’ve got this,” she murmured, her voice a mix of determination and reassurance.

In contrast Mrs Al-Haraz hissed at her girls. “Keep those fucking assholes shut, keep that chocolate in!”

The taste of chocolate in the mouths of Charlotte and Zara became more pronounced, signaling their progress. Zara looked at the now gaping asshole of her cousin and saw the huge globs of chocolate pouring out. She sucked hungrily, her desperation for something sweet overcoming the appalling nature of the task. After weeks of eating nothing but healthy, tasteless slop, the sweet, rich chocolate was a welcome relief.

Charlotte, similarly, focused on the task, her revulsion momentarily overshadowed by the pleasure of tasting the chocolate. The once daunting challenge seemed slightly more bearable with the reward in sight.

Fatima and Camille, unable to seal their sphincters against the determined tongues of Zara and Charlotte, also gave way, their bodies betraying them as the hot tongues continued their work.

Mrs. Parker, seeing her girls making progress, felt a surge of determination. She redoubled her efforts, using every technique she had practiced to break through the resistance of Mrs. Al-Haraz’s sphincter. The muscle started to relax, the tightness giving way under her persistent, gentle pressure.

Mrs. Al-Haraz felt the chocolate starting to ooze out of her, and as she heard the slurping, sucking sounds of Mrs. Parker desperately trying to suck and hoover the chocolate out of her hole, the Yemeni woman clenched with all her might, trying to squeeze her sphincter shut, desperate to keep it in.

As the first taste of chocolate hit Mrs. Parker’s taste buds, she felt a surge of desperation and determination. She stabbed her tongue inside, trying to force it deeper into the hole to get more chocolate. Then, planting her lips around the anus, she violently sucked, creating a loud vacuuming sound as she tried to extract as much chocolate as possible. Mrs. Al-Haraz clenched her jaws with effort, fighting against the prickling sensation of the hot mouth invading her asshole.

Suddenly, Master Pembroke shouted, “Stop!”

The command echoed through the room, freezing everyone in their tracks. Mrs. Parker immediately pulled back, her lips and tongue leaving Mrs. Al-Haraz’s anus. Zara and Charlotte also halted, their faces flushed and their breathing heavy.

Kwame made the rounds again, stopping at Mrs. Al-Haraz. He inspected her asshole with his finger and was met with a loud farting sound as huge globs of white chocolate came out onto his hand and onto the ground.

“Wow, boss, I don’t think the lady got any chocolate out of her at all!” Kwame marveled at all the sticky white goo on his hand. He wiped the rest up off the ground and brought it to Mrs. Al-Haraz’s mouth to clean off.

Mrs. Al-Haraz licked Kwame’s fingers clean, grinning proudly as she stared at Mrs. Parker, her eyes flashing with a sense of victory. Her tongue savored the chocolate, running it around in her mouth as if to boast that she had won. The chocolate was in her mouth now, not Mrs. Parker’s.

Mrs. Parker looked down, annoyed that she had been so close having had to perform the disgusting task. Kwame continued his inspection of the other girls, their rumps still upturned in the air. He moved methodically from one to the next. “Boss, there is no chocolate in either of these girls, only blood!” he announced.

“Well done Mrs Parker! Your girls’ tongues must have razors in them!” Pembroke laughed and made more marks on Sabine’s back. Both Sabine and Anna were beyond wondering what could happen next.

“Now the final round! Mrs Al-Haraz, your team to go first!”

Mrs Al-Haraz was still annoyed at the girls as they limped to the table. “You fucking sluts, you cannot keep your holes closed!” she hissed. “Madam, you were rough with the butt plugs, and all last week, I could barely feel my asshole, I could not help it!” Camille complained. The older woman slapped her across the face. “Shut up! Now you remember your fucking lines, OK?”

Camille rubbed her face, her fingers tracing the lines sting of the slap. She resignedly took the clothes she was to wear and had a final read over the “script.” The past week had been a nightmare, but having to relive her ordeal for a performance felt like an added cruelty. She was going to have to reenact her kidnapping, with Fatima playing the role of Pembroke.

Meanwhile, Charlotte was getting changed into a tennis player outfit. It felt weird wearing clothes again for the first time in weeks, but the obscenely short white skirt and the tight white vest top reminded her that she was still a sex object. The cotton white panties under her skirt felt nice, her pussy being hidden for the first time, but she knew they would soon be off again.

Mrs Al-Haraz stood with the script, but could not understand most of the English. Camille stood next to Fatima, still naked. Camille was in a pair of small pink shorts and a t shirt.

Camille breathed hard, looking at a space on the wall above the leering men and the frightened naked girls on their laps.

“I really like being a film director. I am sure that my films are good, and that … that they are not just paid for by my daddy, and that no one would pay for them otherwise…” Camille choked on the words, the lines viciously written by Pembroke to mock her film career.

The words stung as she spoke them, each sentence a cruel reminder of the doubts and insecurities she harbored. Her present situation was awful, and the competition so far had been a horrible ordeal, but even after all that, the worlds about her film career cut to her heart.

“Don’t worry Camille…” Fatima struggled with the English… “Who cares … who…?” Fatima looked back at Mrs Al-Haraz for support, who sighed and tried to read the script. “Stupid bitch!” She hissed at her.

“Stupid bitch?” Fatima repeated the line.

Pembroke laughed hysterically. “No, Fatima, that was Mrs Al-Haraz calling you a stupid bitch. Here give me the script, I will remind you of the lines.”

Pembroke read them out. “Who cares about your movies, you are a hot young slut, and the only movies you should be in are porn movies.”

“Who cares about your movies, you are a hot young slut and the only movies you like are porn movies.” Fatima looked quizzically at Pembroke who shook his head and laughed.

“Go on!” he sighed.

“I … I have a hot young body but I do not want to share it with anyone, only daddy.” Camille said the line out robotically. She tried to focus, to just get past it. But to what end? Would this humiliation ever end? And they were going to lose, Fatima and Mrs Al-Haraz could not speak English and they could barely practice.

“Yes, your daddy, he likes me?” Fatima spoke the words helplessly, realizing she got the line wrong. Her face flushed with panic, and she broke down, tears welling up in her eyes. “I am sorry, Master, I don’t understand English…” she cried, her voice trembling as she held her arms out to Pembroke as if pleading for mercy.

“It’s alright, Fatima. Mistakes happen.” Pembroke smirked. He loved the feeling of despair and panic on the naked girl’s face. He laughed as he thought of how hilarious it must have been to see the two Arab women with little English desperately trying to memorise and understand the script.

“I think white people are disgusting and Arab men are wonderful gentlemen who would never hurt me. So I think I should meet this Algerian film director. It sounds like a good idea,” Camille spoke the next line in a deadpan voice, her scorn for the stupidity of the line and the whole idea clear.

“Careful, Camille. Don’t be mocking, careful,” Pembroke warned, his tone sharp. He did not appreciate the young lady’s cheek.

Camille turned to Fatima, who was waving her arms around frantically trying to remember the line. Her movements caused her breasts to jiggle, and the stress of the moment became too much for her. Fatima burst into tears again.

Pembroke just laughed. This was hilariously bad, but what on earth was he expecting. “Haha, I am going to trick this girl and kidnap her. She will never suspect a gay guy and four gay actors!” Pembroke read out the line, then smiled at Camille.

Camille closed her eyes and read out the line, swallowing hard to stop crying. “Yes, of course I will go to a deserted beach and yes, of course I will go out to the rocks by myself. Oh wait, a lifeguard is calling me in.”

Fatima, still trying to understand, looked completely lost. She waved her arms around in frustration, her face a mask of confusion. Camille, seeing her struggle, spoke up gently. “You pretend to be a lifeguard and then you do that thing, ‘hissss’.”

Fatima nodded, trying to process the instructions. “Come in!” she said, her voice shaky but determined to follow through.

Camille, with a hint of mockery towards the absurdity of the situation, raised her eyes theatrically and walked towards Fatima. Fatima knew this part, she put her hand on Camille’s shoulder and she fell to the ground mimicking being shocked.

Camille got up and stood to the side, and spoke to the audience again. Her eyes were dead, her tone flat. “And now I am a sex slave. I will spend the rest of my life pleasing men with my body. I will never see my family again. Sex and violence will be all I will ever know for the rest of my life. The End.”

Camille took a bow, and so did Fatima. They both looked at Pembroke, Fatima with fear and confusion, Camille with cold hatred.

Pembroke was shaking with laughter. “Sorry girls, that was good” He started to clap then so did the other men.

“Now, Mrs Parker, your girls, come on!”

Charlotte walked on inn her tennis outfit, white tiny skirt, bare feet and vest top. Zara was naked.

“Oh, my, I am such a wonderful girl, I am pretty, and I am going to be a top tennis player. I hope nothing awful happens, like becoming a sex slave. “ Charlotte could barely breathe as she said the words.

“When you play tennis … the men…” Zara nervously tried to remember the words.

“The men all want to fuck you and imagine you naked” whispered Mrs Parker, reading from the script. “The men want to fuck you” repeated Zara.

“Oh, Mr Carnot” said Charlotte. “He seems like a top lawyer. I am just a stupid girl, maybe I can have a law career if I show people my…” Charlotte sobbed, unable to get the word out.

“Pussy” whispered Mrs Parker.

“I know the fucking lines” shouted Charlotte.

“Careful Charlotte!” Pembroke chided her.

Charlotte tried to breathe. She walked towards Zara and they bumped into each other. “Oh hello Charlotte “said Zara. “Why don’t you come to my offices. I promise I am not going to kidnap you.”

Zara was relieved she could remember one line. Charlotte thought back to her meeting with that bastard in Paris.

“Oh, this part of Paris is full of immigrants. I am too good for these people, I am a spoilt, rich girl that needs a good long fucking.” Charlotte suddenly stopped, and got down on her knees, and started to weep.

Mrs Parker and Zara tried to help her up.

“Get the fuck away from me! Leave me alone!” Charlotte wailed. “I want out of here! I don’t belong here! I cannot fucking take this anymore!”

Pembroke looked at Mrs Parker and raised his eyebrow. Mrs Parker felt awful but knew she had to do it. She grabbed Charlotte by the hair and slapped her several times.

“How dare you disrespect the Master like that! You cheeky little bitch! Continue the performance!” Mrs Parker screamed into the young girl’s face. Charlotte reacted with shock, her face went white, and she got back up.

“OK, continue” Pembroke said.

“Do you want a taxi?” Mrs Parker hissed at Zara.

“Do you want a taxi?” Zara asked Charlotte.

Charlotte was silent for several seconds, before answering, her eyes sullenly stuck on the ground. “Yes, I want to go to Monsieur Carnot’s nice law offices. I can dream of being a lawyer even though I am a stupid girl.”

Zara walked to the girl and touched her shoulder and hissed her like Fatima had to Camille.

Charlotte sobbed out the next few words incoherently from the ground. “And now I will never be a tennis player, I will never be a lawyer, I will never have a family, I will never see my parents. My life … my life will be spent as a sex slave.” She cupped her face in her hands and wailed in despair. All the females in the room apart from Mrs Al-Haraz cried in sympathy.

Pembroke just clapped. “Well done! Now for the dances!”

The first up this time were Charlotte and Zara. Zara remained naked while Charlotte stayed in her tennis gear. Mrs. Parker had one song to play from an MP3 player: “Glow Up” by Ava Starr. Mrs. Parker stroked the girls’ backs, reassuring them that this was the end. She prayed they would win; going through all this just to lose and be punished would be sickening.

The song began, its upbeat tempo filling the room with energy. Charlotte fought through tears to remember the routine. Her blond hair swished around as she moved her fingers, swayed her hips, and mimed the words to the song. Zara tried to copy the moves, though she forgot some of it. She twerked her bottom at the audience, moved her chest, and shook her breasts, also miming to the music.

Mrs. Parker watched anxiously, her heart pounding as she silently cheered them on. The chorus hit, and both girls threw themselves into the routine. As the song neared its end, Charlotte and Zara both performed one co-ordinated sequence, bending their knees and lowering their hips almost to the ground, Zara displaying her bare pussy lips between her splayed legs and Charlotte her white panties.

Mrs. Parker listened intently for the hook and clicked her fingers as she heard it. On that signal, Charlotte and Zara turned to each other, their movements fluid and synchronized. They held each other in their arms. Zara’s hands lifted Charlotte’s skirt, revealing the panties underneath. The men watched with bated breath as the girls ran their hands over each other’s bodies, then started kissing.

The song continued in its extended version, and the girls moved to the ground, their bodies still intertwined in a sensual embrace. Charlotte and Zara kissed passionately, their connection deepening with each movement. Zara took off Charlotte’s clothes, carefully removing each piece to reveal her smooth skin.

As the music played on, they positioned themselves in a 69 position, with Charlotte lying on the ground and Zara lying on top of her, her head nestled against Charlotte’s now bare pussy.

Charlotte’s hands caressed Zara’s back, tracing the curves of her body with delicate fingers. Zara, in turn, continued her movements, her hands exploring Charlotte’s thighs and hips.

Their bodies moved in sync with the music, gently swaying on the ground. Charlotte’s blond hair fanned out on the floor as she lay beneath Zara. She began licking at Zara’s smooth pussy above her, tonguing the young lips. Zara, in turn, forced her mouth between the legs of Charlotte and ran her tongue along the lips, tasting the sweet juices coming out of her.

Mrs. Parker watched intently, her heart pounding, they were so close to the end. The song came to an end, and in the silence the only sound was of their mouths softly sucking and licking each other.

“I don’t want it to stop! But we need the next team on!” laughed Pembroke.

Mrs. Al-Haraz had beaten both girls all week to get this performance right. “Rise Up” by Luna Sky played, and both girls began dancing. Camille had wanted to choreograph the dance but had been overruled by the Yemeni woman, who beat her for offering any suggestion. Mrs. Al-Haraz wanted to see Camille’s acrobatic abilities. But the weeks of confinement and torture had not been kind.

Camille performed various cartwheels and somersaults, her movements strained and uncoordinated due to the physical toll she had endured. Fatima, on the other hand, just danced, trying desperately to remember what Mrs. Al-Haraz had tried to beat into her. The result was a mess.

At one point, Camille attempted a front somersault, and in the chaos, Fatima, dancing desperately, turned into her path. Camille’s foot struck Fatima squarely in the face. Fatima clutched her nose, blood streaming down her face, while Camille hit the ground hard, writhing in pain.

But, driven by sheer determination and fear of further punishment, they struggled back to their feet. Fatima wiped the blood from her nose as best she could, while Camille pushed through the pain radiating through her body.

The men laughed at the mishap, and the dance just got worse as a result. Fatima shook her ass, holding her cheeks wide apart as Mrs Al-Haraz had instructed, but it was not sexy at all. Finally, Mrs Al-Harz shouted out. “Kiss!”

The girls moved close and kissed. Blood was pouring out of Fatima’s nose and both girls tasted it as they kissed.

“Now, 69!” shouted Mrs Al-Haraz. She hoped this next move might clinch victory.

Camille, driven by a mix of determination and desperation, tore off her vest and shorts, now standing fully naked. She quickly moved into a handstand, her body tense with effort. Fatima, despite the blood still trickling from her nose, grabbed Camille around the waist. With a gentle but firm grip, Fatima strained to lift Camille’s hands from the ground, her muscles quivering under the load.

Camille, feeling the shift in balance, gracefully folded her thighs over Fatima’s shoulders, locking them in place. Fatima, now bearing the full weight of Camille, steadied herself, her face a mask of concentration and resolve, as her legs began to shake.

The men in the audience oohed and aahed at the performance, clearly impressed by the extraordinary display of strength and balance.

“Lick!” shouted Mrs Al-Haraz.

Camille’s hair hung down between Fatima’s legs as she brought her face closer, gripping Fatima’s buttocks to steady herself. With careful, deliberate movements, she worked her neck to tilt her face up between Fatima’s legs, her eyes meeting Fatima’s crotch, and she began licking her pussy.

Fatima held onto Camille’s waist tightly, her legs trembling with the effort of maintaining their balance. She felt Camille’s tongue between her pussy lips, and leaned forward, bringing her face closer to Camille’s own pussy and began eating.

The blood was flowing to Camille’s head as she tried to lick her partner’s pussy upside down. Fatima was overcome with the effort needed to hold Camille while having her own pussy played with. Combined with the injuries from the collision and the exhaustion of the competition, it proved too much. Camille slipped from her grasp, and the French girl fell head first onto the ground.

Fatima screamed and rushed to help her partner, who cried while cradling her neck. The men laughed again, finding it all hilarious. The two girls cradled each other on the ground as the song came to an end. Mrs Al-Haraz came forward and started hitting them. “Stupid bitches!”

Pembroke clapped and laughed. “And that concludes the competition! Ladies give yourselves a round of applause!

The girls clapped meekly, heads bowed. It had been humiliating but at least it was over. Camille rubbed her neck and Fatima her face. Mrs Parker still had a sore wrist and ankle.

Pembroke looked at the scores he had written on Sabine’s back. “The winner is … TEAM MRS PARKER!!”

Mrs Parker and her girls did not celebrate, they merely bowed. Mrs Al-Haraz scowled and her girls sobbed.

“Now, what this means is that Team Al-Haraz has to be punished!” Pembroke pushed Sabine off his lap, and went to collect several small whips and bottles of water.

“Team Parker, here are your prizes, drink these bottles of water. Now.” He threw them at the feet of the three women, who picked them up and drank.

“Now Team Al-Haraz. For the last few weeks I have tortured you but have not broken your skin. Camille, why do you think that is?”

“Because our owner wants us unblemished” said the girl morosely.

“Correct! But these whips will only leave marks that last a few weeks, after which you will be clear again, and we can progress to selling you. Now, have you ladies finished drinking?”

Team Parker had finished the water and they nodded. Suddenly, they all needed to pee.

“Now, first, Team Al-Haraz, put your hands on the wall, facing the wall, and bend over. You are going to be whipped by Team Parker. Mrs Parker, you whip Mrs Al-Haraz who will take her clothes off, Zara, you whip your cousin.”

Mrs. Al-Haraz looked at her enemy, Mrs. Parker, with disgust and anger as she removed her dress and heels. Standing naked alongside her girls, she led them to the wall. They all leaned against it, placing their hands on the surface and arching their backs, pushing out their bottoms in a provocative display.

The men licked their lips in anticipation, their eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and curiosity. Mrs. Parker and her two girls, Charlotte and Zara, took their positions beside each of their adversaries, readying their whips. Despite the tension and the expectations of the audience, none of them truly wanted to hurt the girls standing against the wall. Even Mrs. Parker felt a pang of reluctance.

Fatima’s buttocks shook gently as she cried with fear, her body trembling with anticipation. Camille’s pert posterior also awaited the worst, her eyes fixed sadly on the ground, where she noticed the blood still dripping from Fatima’s nose like a running tap. Mrs. Al-Haraz, despite her anger and determination, spread her legs and kept her bottom pushed out, bracing herself to take the punishment as well as she could.

“Now girls, I want to see twenty stokes, one girl at a time, I want to see blood, I want to hear screams, I want marks, OK?” Pembroke had his fingers in Sabine’s pussy now, though the girl was dry, not being in the least bit turned on by this horror show.

The room was silent, the anticipation thick in the air. The girl was dry, not being in the least bit turned on by this horror show. Mrs. Parker took a deep breath and stepped forward, the whip held firmly in her hand. She struck Mrs. Al-Haraz across the back, the whip cracking through the air with a sharp, menacing sound.

Lines began to appear across Mrs. Al-Haraz’s back as she sucked in air with each hit, stoically refusing to scream. Instead, she stared back at Mrs. Parker with pure hatred in her eyes.

Remembering the woman’s vindictiveness, Mrs. Parker felt a surge of determination and lost her initial inhibitions. She began whipping harder, each strike more forceful than the last. The Yemeni woman’s grunts soon became shouts, and then screams, as the whip strikes ventured south to her buttocks and the back of her thighs. Thin red lines crisscrossed her body. The Yemeni woman cursed loudly as she hopped from foot to foot, her hands shooting down to her buttocks, grabbing them in pain. The men in the audience watched with a mix of amusement and fascination, their eyes following her every move.

Finally, Mrs Parker finished. She saw the Yemeni woman was crying for the first time. She had won, she thought, but the bitch would want revenge.

“Excellent Mrs Parker, now Zara, I want to see the same effort from you. Look your overseer’s back, her legs, her ass, you heard her scream! I want to see the same on your cousin. If not, then I will whip her forty times, and I will whip you sixty times, understood?”

“Yes master” Zara looked at her cousin, who looked back sadly at her, her lower face covered in blood. She choked back tears and looked at the ground, preparing to take the pain.

Zara tentatively whipped her cousin, Fatima, who squealed at the contact. “Harder!” shouted Pembroke, his voice echoing through the room.

Zara’s eyes filled with tears of frustration and anger and she screamed as she brought the whip down again and again against her cousin. Each strike of the whip was not against her cousin but a manifestation of her rage at Pembroke, at the hopelessness, and at the evil of their situation.

Fatima’s screams were piercing and echoed around the hall. With each strike against her body, she jumped up and down, grabbing her tender buttocks, dancing involuntarily from the pain. When Zara finished, she threw down the whip and embraced her cousin, apologising in Arabic to her.

“Now, now, Zara. Well done, but let Fatima get back against the wall. Very well marked, suc lovely red lines!”

Now it was the turn of Charlotte against Camille. Camille’s fists were bunched up, she was already crying, anticipating the pain, shaking. Charlotte looked at the beautiful porcelain skin against her red hair. It was going to be awful to stroke that body. But she had to. She raised her arm as if to serve at tennis, then brought it down on her back. Camille screamed and shouted. “NOO I cannot!” and hopped around the hall.

“Camille, get back against the wall NOW!” Pembroke barked.

Camille slapped her hands against the wall, and screamed in frustration. Charlotte kept whipping, as quickly as she could, wanting it over with. Finally, she had stopped and the white porcelain skin of Camille was covered in bloody welts. The screams had been operatice and the men had to put their fingers in their ears to shut out the noise.

“Now ladies, after all that water, you must want to piss. So Team Al-Haraz, lie on the ground, face up.”

The girls flinched as they lay down, the hard surface adding to the soreness of their bloodied backs and bottoms. Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through their bodies.

Now Team Parker, I want you to squat over your opponent’s faces, and piss directly into their mouths.” Pembroke grinned.

Mrs Parker looked at the twisted pain face of Mrs Al-Haraz lying down. She did not want to do this to her. She dreaded to think of the revenge this woman would want to take on her. Zara cried again as her cousin consoled her. “It’s OK” said Fatima. “Just finish this.”

Mrs. Parker squatted over Mrs. Al-Haraz’s face, feeling the weight of the men’s fascinated gazes on her. She tried to maintain her composure, looking up to face the men with a stoic expression, but the intensity of the situation was almost overwhelming. She then looked down at the face of her adversary, seeing the seared, scarred flesh around Mrs. Al-Haraz’s eyes. Every part of Mrs. Al-Haraz’s being seemed to be directed with pure hatred towards Mrs. Parker.

The three girls started to pee at the same time. Zara felt a sense of relief but could not bring herself to look down and witness the sight of her cousin, Fatima, struggling to deal with the urine pouring into her nostrils and mouth, almost choking on the flow. The humiliation and physical discomfort were almost too much to bear, and the room was filled with a tense silence as the men and Sabine and Anna watched with a mix of fascination and morbid curiosity.

Mrs. Parker continued to piss, feeling the steam rising off Mrs. Al-Haraz’s face, her hair getting soaked. The flow finally stopped, leaving Mrs. Al-Haraz lying on the ground, gasping for air, her face wet and contorted with anger and humiliation.

Camille had struggled to breathe, managing to swallow most of the piss coming from Charlotte’s pussy. When the flow ceased, she got up, her eyes stinging and her red hair plastered to her face with urine. She wiped her face with trembling hands, trying to regain some composure despite the overwhelming sense of degradation.

The taste of urine invaded the senses of the three beaten women. They felt sick with humiliation.

“Now, I think that concludes the tournament. Let’s get the girls back in the cell!” Pembroke clapped his hands in appreciation.

The girls moved back to the cell, their steps slow and pained. Fatima and Camille walked gingerly, their bloody bodies still stinging from the whip’s lashes and the stench of piss clinging to them like slime.

“Jamal, Kwame and Dmitri have already raped this lovely lady enough” he slapped Sabine on the ass. “Tonight, I think she should sleep with you!”

“Thanks, boss,” Jamal grinned at the girl. Sabine grimaced with disgust, her eyes filled with horror as she looked at the huge, deformed man with one eye and only half a jaw. His appearance was grotesque, and his smile, or what remained of it, twisted his features into a horrifying sight.

“And Mrs Al-Haraz, as a consolation prize, you will have Anna in your bed tonight. She likes girls, so you should have fun!”

The Yemeni woman smiled at the young Swiss girl, who had been watching her with horror throughout the entire ordeal, her fear evident in her wide eyes. The woman’s deformed face, scarred with burn marks, filled the Swiss girl with dread. Her breath and wet hair reeked of piss as she walked up to the girl, limping slightly.

“You will be good tonight,” Mrs. Al-Haraz rasped, her voice rough and menacing. She gripped the young girl’s buttocks firmly, causing the Swiss girl to squeak with fear through hr gag.

Sabine and Anna watched each other’s faces in vain, each one trying to console the other with longing glances, unable to speak through the gags that silenced them. Tears welled up in their eyes, the fear and desperation palpable. Each girl was led away by her deformed and lustful partner for the night, their bodies trembling with dread.

Mrs. Al-Haraz felt a twisted sense of gratitude for the token gesture of conciliation from Master Pembroke. The gift of the new, beautiful girl made her feel wanted and affirmed her importance in his operation. It offered a bitter consolation to the pain of the whip marks, the stench and taste of Mrs. Parker’s piss on her and in her throat, and the humiliation of losing to her rival.

As she dug her nails into the frightened girl’s buttocks, she imagined the myriad ways she would take revenge against the Englishwoman in the future. In her mind, she was still the queen of the slave girls, and she would ensure that everyone knew it.

The young girl whimpered, her body trembling under Mrs. Al-Haraz’s painful grip. The fear in her eyes only fueled Mrs. Al-Haraz’s sense of power. She leaned in close, her breath still reeking of hot piss, and whispered menacingly into the wide brown eyes of the Swiss ski girl, “You will learn to obey, I am in charge here.”

Jamal watched the buttocks of Sabine sway in front of him, dimples creasing her lower back. She was crying, tears streaming down her face as she looked back at him with a mix of fear and revulsion. He knew how hideous and ugly and scary he was, and he saw the terror in her eyes as confirmation. His huge, rough hand rested on her back, pushing her forward toward his room. The anticipation of the night ahead had really turned him on, and he was eager to indulge his cruel desires.

Pembroke motioned to Kwame and Dmitri. “Get the girls to clean up all the piss and blood on the floor,” he ordered, his voice cold and authoritative.

The girls, already exhausted and in pain, brought cloths and got to their knees, forced to scrub the floor clean. The hard, cold surface pressed against their bruised and battered bodies, every movement sending waves of agony through the whip marks on their the backs of Camille na Fatima.

As they scrubbed, the room was filled with the sound of the cloths moving against the floor, a grim reminder of the suffering they had endured. Fatima winced with every motion, her tears mingling with the sweat and blood on her face. Camille’s red hair, still matted with piss, clung to her skin as she focused on her task, trying to block out the pain.

Charlotte and Zara, though less physically injured, shared in the burden, their hands moving in unison with their friends.

Mrs. Parker watched over her girls, her heart aching at the sight of their suffering. She began to kneel next to them but Pembroke stopped her.

“No, Mrs. Parker, tonight is your night of victory. Instead of cleaning, you will spend the night with me in my bedroom. After all these girls, I am looking forward to a mature woman who knows how to please a man.” Pembroke smiled at her, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he fondled her generous, fleshy breasts.

Mrs. Parker stood still, her face betraying none of the turmoil she felt inside. So her victory had meant she avoided the whipping and the piss, but she knew she would have to perform expertly well on this man tonight. She was tired but would be expected to provide hours of sex.

“Thank you Master” Mrs Parker smiled, her eyes deadened, and she allowed herself to be led away.

Under the watchful, lustful eyes of Dmitri and Kwame, the girls continued to scrub the floors. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the oppressive silence was broken only by the sound of brushes against the stone. The girls exchanged quiet, furtive glances with each other, as if silently praying for an end to this awful night.

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  • Reply Steamboy ID:1ddul32d6qh1

    Parts 2 and 3 are missing, this (part 4) makes no sense without them 🙁
    Please post the missing parts!

    • Edward Pembroke ID:1d5erjk4fqnc

      ADDing soon….

    • Steamboy ID:1deqtnkfud0d

      Thank you for posting the missing parts, well worth the wait. Part 4 was thoroughly enjoyable. Please, please , please for their next punishments can we have some shit and period torture!!!!