Three Sex Slaves - Chapter 1

That damned creaking ripped me from my sleep. Fuck, what is it this time? Bugs in the walls? My mother's old house was full of sounds, but this sounded different. Something was shuffling around downstairs.

I peeled my eyes open and the darkness in the bedroom was thick as tar. I just listened for a moment, my heart starting to pound a little faster. No, this wasn't rats.

I slid out of bed, bare feet on the cold floorboards. Instinctively, I fumbled for the nightstand. The cool steel of my nine-mil felt reassuring in my palm. I pulled it from the drawer along with a magazine and silently slid it in. Only in my shorts, with the pistol in my hand, I crept to the bedroom door. Adrenaline was already pulsing in my veins. Whoever the fuck was breaking in here was going to regret it. This house was mine now, and I wasn't the type to welcome uninvited guests with open arms.

I slowly turned the handle and opened the door just a crack. The light from the hallway was faint, just the moonlight filtering through the windows on the staircase. The sounds were coming from the living room. I stepped carefully on the creaking stairs, every muscle in my body tense. My weight, all one hundred and twenty-five kilos of it, isn't exactly built for silent creeping, but I tried. My broad shoulders almost kept me from getting through the narrow staircase; I felt like a bear in a henhouse.

When I reached the last step, I peeked around the corner. And there they were. Three of them. All in dark clothes, with balaclavas on their heads. One of them was just trying to pry open the lock on my mother's old display cabinet. So these were the night visitors. Petty thieves. Anger rose in me like bile.

"Don't even move, you bastards!" my voice thundered through the space. They flinched in surprise. The one by the cabinet dropped his crowbar, which landed on the wooden floor with a clatter. The other two froze on the spot. The pistol in my hand was aimed right at them.

"Hands up where I can see them! And turn around slowly!" I commanded. They obeyed, though you could see their knees were shaking. Their hands slowly rose into the air and they turned to face me. Through the eyeholes in the balaclavas, I could only see their terrified eyes.

"Masks off! Now!" I barked the commands. The one closest to me hesitated, which brought me to a boiling point. "I said off, fucker, or I'll put another hole in your head!" I aimed directly between his eyes. That convinced him, and he quickly pulled off the balaclava.

And my jaw almost dropped. Underneath the black fabric, it wasn't the face of some hardened scumbag that was revealed, but a young woman's face. A brunette, with dark, now terrified eyes, a little tanned. In my shock, I almost forgot about the other two; my world for a moment narrowed to just her.

"You two as well!" I hissed through my teeth, nodding my head toward the others. The second one also pulled off her balaclava. A redhead, tall, with emerald-green eyes that pierced me with defiance, even though the fear in them was clearly readable. It was she who spoke, her voice trembling, but she tried to sound firm.

"We didn't want... we just..."

"Quiet!" I cut her off. "The third one!" I focused on the last figure, who was cowering behind the others like a shadow. Slowly, almost painfully, she removed her mask, as if afraid to reveal her true face. When she finally did, a petite blonde was standing there. Large blue eyes, almost childlike, full of panic and tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She was the smallest of them and looked the most vulnerable.

Three. Three young women, I doubt they were older than twenty. I was standing there in my shorts, a loaded weapon in my hand, and looking at them. The anger began to recede, replaced by something else. Surprise. And then... then an idea began to form in my head. A cold, calculating, and fucking exciting idea.

"We... we thought... that just some old lady lived here," the brunette, Mia, as I would later find out, stammered. Her voice was thin and full of fear. "No one has been here for a long time, the house looked abandoned."

"Yes, we thought it was empty," the redhead, Claire, as I would also later find out, the more dominant one, added, although her voice sounded much less confident now. "We didn't want to hurt anyone, we just... we needed..." She searched for the words, but I cut her off.

"You needed what? To rob a defenseless old woman?" my voice was cold as ice on this early Saturday morning. They didn't know that the "old woman," my mother, had been rotting in the ground for a couple of weeks and I had only moved in a few days ago to get her things in order. How ironic. They wanted to rob a corpse and ran into me instead.

The little blonde, named Sarah, just sobbed desperately, covering her face with her hands. Her large blue eyes, now red from crying, looked at me pleadingly from between her fingers. "Please sir, let us go," she whispered through her tears, her voice almost unintelligible. "We'll never do it again. We swear."

Let them go? I looked at them. Three young bodies, firm and supple, as could be seen under their thin dark clothing. The fear in their eyes was almost palpable. And I held the power in my hands. Absolute power. Probably no one knew they were here. No one would look for them here, in this secluded place, kilometers from the city.

A smile slowly spread across my face, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a predator that has just cornered its prey.

"Please," the redhead Claire repeated, her green eyes fixed on me, trying to hold on to the last remnants of her defiance, but it was futile. "We'll do anything."

"Anything, you say?" I repeated slowly, savoring the word. I looked at Mia, whose lips were trembling, then at the tearful Sarah, and finally back at Claire. The idea that had only flashed through my head before now took on sharp, uncompromising outlines.

"How did you get here? We're in a secluded spot, far from the city," I asked the necessary question.

"By car," Mia answered quietly.

"By car, then," I repeated sarcastically, my eyes narrowing. "Where is the car?"

"A little ways down by the road," Mia answered again, but Claire shot her a look that could kill, obviously displeased with her willingness to answer.

"Empty your pockets onto the floor, now," I growled the command, my voice hard as steel.

Although reluctantly, they obeyed me. A moment later, three wallets, cell phones, a few miscellaneous items, and, most importantly, the car keys were lying on the floor.

"Well, girls," I said, and my voice was suddenly surprisingly calm, almost gentle, which clearly unnerved them even more. "I don't think you'll be going anywhere tonight." The barrel of the gun moved lazily, almost playfully, toward the kitchen door, where there was another door leading to the cellar. "Nice and single file, my doves." I smiled, the corners of my mouth rising into a grimace that was anything but cheerful. "And no funny business, or I'll shoot those pretty little faces of yours before you can even blink."

Their faces were no longer just pale. They were translucent, like wax paper through which a map of blue veins was visible. The fear was beginning to turn into pure horror and panic.

"Move!" I barked, nudging the barrel of the pistol toward Claire, who was standing closest and trying to shield them. Hesitantly, with legs like lead, she moved. The other two trailed behind her like shadows, Sarah pressing desperately against Mia, her fingers digging into her arm, searching for a salvation that wasn't there. They were like a herd destined for slaughter, shuffling down the hallway to their fate, and I was their shepherd. Their owner. Their god.

The silent march through the kitchen, where the only sound was the muffled clicking of their shoes on the tiles, ended in front of an old oak door. When I opened it, a wave of stagnant air hit them in the faces, the smell of damp and must.

I pointed to the steep, dark stairs. "Down. And carefully, I don't want you breaking your necks down there," I said, and my voice was calm, almost caring.

Claire looked at me one last time, a desperate plea in her eyes. I ignored it. With a sigh that sounded like a final goodbye to freedom, she began to descend. Mia and Sarah followed her, crying.

When all three were down, in the dark, damp cellar, I slammed the door behind them. The sound of the lock, old and massive, as I turned it, was like a final period at the end of their hopes. I could hear their muffled sobs and whispers from the other side.

A smile played on my lips. Yes. In my dark, damp cellar, in this little private kingdom of mine, they were going to fucking "love it". It would be their hell. And my playground. And while they were down there discovering new definitions of fear, plans began to swarm in my mind like wasps.

I leaned against the door, pistol still in hand, and took a deep breath. This must be a dream. Three. Three young, beautiful women. Just for me. Locked in my cellar. And no one knew about it. The feeling of power that was coursing through me was intoxicating. My heart was pounding like crazy, but it wasn't just from the adrenaline of the confrontation. It was something else, darker and more intoxicating. I went into the kitchen, my hands still trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from excitement. Fuck, this actually happened. Three young chicks, locked in my cellar. Like a gift from heaven, even if they arrived as thieves.

I opened the cabinet above the sink and reached for the bottle of cheap whisky I'd found here, left over from my mother. Into a dusty teacup, I poured a generous dose of the amber liquid; I didn't even bother with ice. I downed it in one gulp. The sharp burn ran down my throat and calmed me a little, but at the same time, it fanned the new, raw energy that was pulsing through me.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, my gaze wandering around the shabby room. What the fuck had just happened to me? An hour ago, I was just a guy trying to cope with his mother's death and get by in life. And now? Now I was the master of the situation. Now I was the center of the universe. Their universe. Three young lives, three beating hearts, three souls full of fear belonged to me. Their fate was not in the hands of God or chance. It was in mine. The power was sweeter than anything I had ever felt.

I poured myself another shot, drinking it slower this time, savoring the feeling of power that was spreading through me like warm alcohol. What was I going to do with them? The question resonated in my head like an echo. The possibilities... the possibilities were almost limitless.

But first, I'd have to get rid of all the evidence. I looked through their wallets and found their names—Claire Miller, Mia Paulson, and Sarah Smith.

I didn't even take the few small coins they had in them, but along with their IDs, I threw them into the fireplace. The cell phones too. None of them had a signal in this location for a long time anyway. Subsequently, I got dressed and went to find their car. I found it easily; it really was just a short way down, parked by the driveway. An old, rusty Mazda; I was surprised it still worked at all. I re-parked it in the old stable, where my mother's old Ford was rusting away. No one would find it here. There's no reason to look for it here.

Then I went back into the house, poured myself another drink in the kitchen, and looked toward the cellar door. There was no more crying from behind it, just the occasional muffled murmur. They were probably trying to figure out what awaits them. They can't even remotely imagine everything I have planned.

The image of their frightened faces, their young bodies... I thought about the redhead, Claire. The defiance in her eyes, even though she was scared shitless. Yes, she will be like tempered steel. She will be hard to bend; she will crack and resist. But the reward will be all the sweeter for it. Then Mia, the brunette. She was frightened, but there was something more under that fear. I want to find out everything that's hidden inside her. And the little blonde, Sarah. She will be like warm wax that I will shape with my bare hands. Those innocent blue eyes of hers... I was already imagining how she would look at me when I fuck her properly for the first time.

The rest of the whiskey disappeared down my throat and the empty glass clinked against the counter. No, I won't rush. I have time. I have all the time in the world. I could let them stew in their own juices for a bit down there. Let them be afraid, let them speculate. Let the uncertainty gnaw at them nicely.

Or... or I could give in to the hunger that was awakening in my groin. The thought that I would go down those stairs, that I would see their bodies curled up in a corner and feel their breath stop when they see me... the image was like a warm wave that shot from my lower belly and spread through my whole body. No playing God. Tonight, I will be the devil. And I'm coming to collect what's mine.

I pushed myself off the counter. A plan was already forming in my head. Slowly, step by step. And it will all start down there, in that cellar. I'm going to go look at my new... toys. Yes, that word tasted right on the tongue. Sweet and sharp at the same time. Toys. And I will play with them exactly as I please. And the possibilities, the fucking limitless possibilities... This is going to be interesting.

The whisky gave me courage, or rather, it amplified the raw desire that had settled inside me. Fuck waiting. I wanted to see them. Right now. I wanted to see the fear in their eyes up close.

I set the empty glass down on the counter and headed back to the cellar door. As I grabbed the heavy iron handle, I hesitated for a moment. It was the last breath in the old world before I plunged into the new one. The last glimmer of who I had been. And then I cast the thought aside. I am the master here.

I slowly turned the key in the lock. The metal grated and I opened the door. The moment it opened just a crack, all the whispering and sobbing from the cellar fell silent. Absolute silence. The silence of prey that has spotted the predator's shadow.

I turned on the light. A single bare bulb under the ceiling buzzed to life and flooded the cellar with a cold, merciless light. With a feeling of absolute power, like a king entering his domain, I began to descend the stairs.

I had barely reached the last step when Claire rushed at me with a furious scream. Something glinted in her hand.

Fuck!

Instinctively, I raised my arm to cover myself. A sharp pain shot through my left forearm. I hissed, a mixture of pain and shocked anger. Warm, sticky liquid began to run down to my elbow. The little bitch had a knife!

I grabbed her wrist before she could stab again and squeezed it like a vise. She shrieked—a thin, high-pitched sound full of pain and surprise. I held on. With my other hand, I thrust my fingers into her thick red hair, wrapped them around my fist, and with a brutal yank, threw her head back, exposing her long, white, vulnerable neck. The knife clattered from her limp fingers and fell to the stone floor.

"YOU LITTLE WHORE!" I roared in her face. Fear flickered in her eyes, but a spark of defiance still smoldered there too. That only inflamed me more.

I let go of her hair and hit her with an open palm. The sound—wet, cracking—was like a gunshot in the confined space. Her head flew to the side with such force that her neck made a crunching sound. With a quiet moan, she fell to the stone floor and was left lying in a crumpled heap of misery.

In that moment, I registered movement peripherally. Mia and Sarah! Mia was holding some old wooden plank in her hands, which she had probably found in the corner, and was preparing to rush me. Sarah was backing her up, even though she had nothing in her hands. Their faces were contorted with fear and a determination born of desperation.

"Don't you two even move!" my voice was hoarse with fury and the pain that was throbbing in my cut arm. I pointed to Claire on the floor. "Because I swear I'll beat her to a pulp right here in front of you, and then you'll fucking get yours too!"

The sight of the beaten Claire on the floor, my roar, and maybe even the blood dripping from my hand stopped them in their tracks. The plank fell to the floor with a clatter. They raised their hands and backed away into the darkest corner of the cellar, where they huddled together like frightened mice. Sarah was sobbing her heart out again, Mia was hugging her, but she herself was trembling all over.

I stood in the middle of the cellar and breathed deeply. The air was heavy with the smell of their fear, dust, and the sweetish scent of my own blood. The throbbing pain in my forearm was like a beacon, focusing my fury into a single, cold point. The wound wasn't deep, but it was an insult. They had transgressed against me. And the punishment must be exemplary.

My gaze fell on Claire. Like a wounded animal, she was slowly getting up on all fours, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth, and the red mark of my palm was beginning to form on her cheek. Her eyes met mine. The fear was there, yes, deep and animalistic. But beneath it, a pure, unadulterated hatred and defiance still burned.

I walked over to her and gave her another slap. This time it wasn't out of fury. It was calculated. A cold, precise, educational slap. Claire fell to the ground again, but this time she instinctively wrapped her arms around her head and her body shook with a loud, broken sob. Finally. She understood.

"So you thought it would be that easy, huh?" My voice was no longer shouting. It was quiet, almost conversational, and all the more terrifying for it. I walked past her and picked up the small knife from the floor. "That you could break into a house, attack a guy who just buried his mother, and walk away without consequences?"

I played with the knife in my hand, its blade reflecting the cold light of the bulb. With a casual flick, I tossed the knife up the stairs, far away from them.

"You were mistaken," I added with a quiet, cold smile. "How fucking mistaken you were."

I gripped Claire's red hair and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. She hissed in pain, but she no longer resisted. I placed her facing the damp, moldy wall. "Hands behind your head. Lace your fingers," I commanded her.

She obeyed instantly. I could feel her trembling, her fear, her realization of the raw reality. I left her standing there and my gaze passed over to the two shadows in the corner. Their fear was so thick I felt like I could scoop it up in my palms. The sight of their terrified faces, of Mia trying to shield the still-crying Sarah, confirmed what I already knew. Their little rebellion required a response. A hard one. An unforgettable one. And I realized, with an intoxicating wave of pure pleasure, that I was going to fucking enjoy giving that response.

I looked around. The cellar was large. And full of junk. Old furniture covered with dusty sheets, rusty tools, canning jars that must have been here since my mother's childhood. The smell of must and damp earth was everywhere. If I'm going to keep these three here for longer, I'll have to clear this all out and fix it up a bit. Make them some... comforts. Of a sort.

But that could wait. First, I have to show them who is the master here. And what happens when someone crosses me. That redheaded bitch needed a lesson. And the two in the corner needed to see what awaits them if they cause trouble. They must see. They must learn.

I grabbed a heavy wooden table that was standing against one wall, dusty and rickety, and with an effort, I dragged it to the center of the cellar, directly under the lightbulb. The wood scraped across the concrete floor.

Then I turned to Claire. She was still standing by the wall, hands behind her head, breathing rapidly, but watching me peripherally. When I approached her, the defiance reappeared in her eyes, but this time it was mixed with a much larger dose of fear. Good.

"From now on, you are my slaves!" I screamed, and my voice echoed off the stone walls, amplifying and hitting them like a physical blow. The two in the corner flinched as if struck by lightning. "And Claire has volunteered for a practical demonstration of what happens when you don't obey!"

I grabbed Claire crudely by the hair and dragged her to the table. She had no chance against my strength and she knew it well, because she didn't resist at all. I bent her over the table so that she was lying leaned over on it, her face pressed to the wood, ass in the air.

"Hold still!" I screamed when she tried to move. She still had that spark of defiance in her. I liked that. It would be all the sweeter to break her.

I found a piece of old, sturdy rope in the junk. When I returned to the table with it, her eyes widened. The desperate, bird-like fluttering of her body intensified as I grabbed one of her wrists and then the other. I crudely pulled them over the edge of the table and tied them tightly to a massive table leg. She thrashed, trying to pull away from me, but she was helpless. With every tightening of the knot, the rope bit deeper into her pale skin.

"What... what are you doing?" she gasped, her voice saturated with terror.

I didn't answer her. Instead, I grabbed the waistband of her dark leggings. With one sharp yank, I pulled them, along with her panties, down to her knees. Her body tensed in horror as she felt the cold air on her exposed ass. Her ass, firm and round, was now completely exposed to my gaze and my anger.

I turned to the two in the corner. They were still huddled there, two bodies merged into one. Sarah was crying and Mia was hugging her convulsively, but her eyes, large and terrified, were fixed on me and on Claire on the table.

"Watch closely, you two!" my voice was hard and merciless. "This is the punishment for disobedience. This is what happens to anyone who stands up to me!"

I bent down and picked up the wooden plank that Mia had dropped earlier. The rough wood fit perfectly in my palm. It had a solid, satisfying weight. The instrument of my justice. I stood over Claire, my foot resting on her leggings so she couldn't kick her legs. I raised the plank. For a moment, I savored the image: her naked, defenseless ass, tensed in anticipation of pain, and the two terrified faces in the corner that were forced to watch. The performance was just beginning.

"Please, don't do it!" Mia screamed from the corner, her voice desperate. "She... we've understood! We're sorry! We'll obey from now on!" Sarah joined her as well, her sobs turning into incoherent pleas. But Claire didn't beg. Apparently, it was beneath her. She was quiet, tense as a wire, frightened, but she didn't beg.

The words and pleas of the other two were like the buzzing of insects behind thick glass. Distant, insignificant. There was no pity inside me, no hesitation. Only a divine calm and a growing desire for the moment that was approaching. Their desperation was just a spice that enhanced the taste of my power.

"Quiet!" I thundered without turning to them. "Your pleas are useless. She has to learn. And you have to watch."

I gripped the wooden plank tighter in my hand. The wood scratched my palm; it was a pleasantly raw feeling. This was about control. About ramming it into their heads where their place is. I looked at the target. At the curves of her ass, so unnaturally white in the cold light of the bulb. With one hand, I caressed them, checked them, enjoyed their softness and smoothness before I marked them with my anger. She still wasn't humbling herself with pleas. There was fear in her face, yes, but at the same time, that unyielding defiance.

I raised the plank high, my hand pausing at the top of the arc. For a fraction of a second, the world froze. All sound disappeared, except for a single sob from Sarah and a quiet hiss as Claire held her breath. I saw her every muscle tense under her skin; I could feel her fear.

And then I struck.

The movement was fast, crushing. The plank whistled through the air and landed with a loud smack on the naked, smooth skin of her ass.

"AAAAAAAAGH!"

Claire's scream was piercing, full of pain and shock. She shuddered on the table as if struck by lightning, her legs jerking, but she had no way to escape. A distinct, red welt immediately blossomed on the spot where the plank had landed.

A horrified scream came from the corner from Mia, and Sarah's crying turned into a hysterical, unintelligible wail. "Stop! Please, stop!" Mia screamed.

I ignored them. The world narrowed to the brightly lit, red mark on her skin. My work. My brand. With every beat of my heart, a heat pulsed in my groin. My dick was getting hard, wanting to join the punishment. But no. Not yet. Later. First, dominance must be established.

I raised the plank again, slowly, savoring it. "This," I growled into the silence punctuated by crying, "is for the knife, you little bitch!"

The second strike landed right next to the first, with the same brutal force. Claire's scream was more strangled this time; her body jerked again, her head hitting the table helplessly.

I was breathing deeply, adrenaline and raw power pulsing in my veins. I could feel my dick getting harder and harder at the sight of her reddening ass. The little whore will remember who she's dealing with. And the other two as well.

I raised the plank again and struck. And again. And again. Her screams changed into guttural moans, which gradually turned into piercing, animalistic shrieks of agony. Her ass was already burgundy, but I didn't stop. And Claire... the cunt was screaming, thrashing, but she wasn't begging. Not once did she beg me for mercy.

Mia and Sarah in the corner were just sobbing now, the words of their pleas turning into a quiet, desperate murmuring. Their faces were white with horror, their eyes wide, riveted to what was happening to Claire. They knew that this would be their fate too, if they resisted. They had understood the lesson on a cellular level. And I knew, with an absolute, god-like certainty, that they would never forget.

How many hits had there been? I'd lost count. Twenty? Thirty? More? It no longer mattered. What was important was the rhythm—lift, strike, scream. Lift, strike, moan. The plank landed again and again. My arms and back were starting to feel the strain, but anger and something else, something dark and exciting, drove me on. The rhythm of the blows, Claire's screams turning into barely audible sobs as she no longer had the strength to scream, the frightened silence from the corner...

Finally, after another series of strikes that landed with almost no response, I stopped. Claire's head was lying limply on the table, her hair covering her face. Her body was completely slack, just trembling softly. She was breathing shallowly, almost imperceptibly. She was on the verge of consciousness, if she hadn't lost it already. Her ass was completely burgundy, glistening with sweat and a little blood that was beginning to seep from the worst-hit places.

I stood over her, breathless, and felt the sweat run down my forehead. The wooden plank felt heavy in my hand. And in my crotch... fuck. All that power, all that adrenaline, all that fury had merged into a single point. My dick was hard as a rock, straining in my trousers so much that it hurt. The sight of her destroyed, subjugated body, of the map of pain I had painted on her skin, was the most powerful aphrodisiac I had ever tasted. My heart was pounding against my ribs, not from exertion, but from raw, unadulterated lust. And I knew that this was just the beginning. That this was just the prelude.

I leaned the plank against the wall and ran a hand over my crotch, feeling the hardness, the throbbing. I took a deep breath of the cellar's smell, the smell of her sweat, of female fear, of blood and musk.

My gaze fell on Claire again. She was still lying there, almost limp. Her ass was a testament to my dominance. Every bruise, every red stripe was my signature. And now I wanted more. Much more.

I turned to Mia and Sarah. They were still huddled in the corner, faces wet with tears, trembling like aspen leaves. Their eyes were wide with horror, following my every move. When their gaze fell on my hand on my crotch and they saw the hungry, beastly glint in my eyes, they understood. Sarah again burst into quiet, hysterical crying, while Mia just covered her mouth with her hand to keep a scream from escaping.

"Watch," I commanded them in a cold, hypnotic whisper that crept across the floor to them. "This is the next lesson. A lesson in what the fuck you are here for."

With a slow, almost ceremonial grace, I stepped closer to the table. I bent over Claire and felt the heat radiating from her beaten body. Gently, almost tenderly, I brushed the sweaty red hair from her face. Her eyes were half-closed, her lashes fluttering. A narrow slit between her eyelids revealed a milky, vacant gaze fixed on nothing. She was breathing shallowly, but regularly. She was still conscious. And that was all that mattered.

I placed my palms on her hips. Her skin was hot and sensitive. She hissed when I touched her, a faint sound of protest that was, however, immediately lost. That was good. I wanted her to feel my every touch, my every thrust. Even though she was on the verge of consciousness, I wanted her to register what was going to happen next.

I reached into my trousers and pulled out my hard, throbbing cock. In the light of the bare bulb, its tip was glistening with pre-cum. First, I presented it to the audience, so they would know what to expect. Sarah immediately screamed, a thin, pathetic sound, and closed her eyes, refusing to look. But Mia... Mia forced herself to watch, hypnotized by horror and maybe something else, something dark.

Then I moved it closer to Claire's destroyed ass and pressed the glans against her battered cheeks. She was hot, her skin almost burning. She hissed, sharper this time, and tried to pull away, but the ropes wouldn't let her. The sight of the contrasting pinkish-white cock on her burgundy skin aroused me even more.

Slowly, deliberately, I rubbed it against her, spreading my pre-cum over her beaten cheeks. Her skin was so swollen that I had the feeling the size of her ass had increased. "This is what you will be here for," I whispered to her, though I didn't know if she was even conscious of me. "To serve me. In all ways."

Then I spread my legs a little to get better access. With my hands, I spread her destroyed ass cheeks, revealing her pink, narrow, perhaps still-virginal vagina. That aroused me even more. She was young; maybe she really was still a virgin. I had planned to fuck her in the ass, but the thought of taking her virginity was too tempting. I can take something that can never be given back.

My cock was throbbing, hard and hot. I placed its glistening tip at her entrance. I took a deep breath of the scent of her fear. And without another word of warning, without any preparation, I rammed it into her.

"AAAAARGH!" a scream full of raw, tearing agony burst from her lungs. Her body arched into a convulsive bow, so violently I thought it would break. I had the feeling this was much worse for her than the blows from the plank. I could feel her narrow hole clench even tighter under my assault, gripping me in a painful spasm, trying to expel me. My cock was forcing its way inside only with difficulty. She was dry and tight. So incredibly tight.

Her nails dug into the wood of the table with a splintering sound. Her legs began to kick in a desperate, helpless dance of agony, trying to throw me off her, but I pressed into her with my full weight, crushing her against the table. I was colonizing her insides centimeter by centimeter, pushing deeper and deeper into her. Every one of my movements was a struggle against her body, which was rejecting me, gripping me, trying to push me out. And every second of that struggle was ecstasy for me.

"Quiet, whore!" I growled when her screams didn't stop. But at the same time, her resistance, her desperate struggle, only aroused me more.

Things were lively in the corner too. Mia was trying to cover Sarah's eyes, but they were both watching, paralyzed by horror and by what they were seeing. Their crying mixed with Claire's agonized screams, creating a hellish symphony in the cellar.

"Oh, bitch, you're so tight," I whispered in her ear, my breath hot on her skin. "You're still a virgin, aren't you? Actually... not anymore, are you?"

Only answer was another pained, angry hiss as I sank even deeper.

Finally. I was all the way inside her. To the root. I could feel myself completely filling her, her body yielding, even though her muscles were still clenched in a painful spasm. I remained motionless inside her for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of absolute ownership, a triumph that was more real than anything I had ever experienced. I could feel her clenched cunt pulsing around my cock.

Then I began to thrust. At first, it was a raw, frictional struggle. Her cunt was so narrow and dry that every movement was like rubbing sandpaper. But gradually, with each subsequent painful thrust, something changed. Against her will, in a last desperate attempt to protect itself from the pain, her body betrayed her. She was starting to get wet. I knew it was just a mechanical response from her body, that she wasn't enjoying it. But in my head, I transformed it into something else. Into surrender. Into acceptance. And that was even better than her screaming.

I thrusted slowly at first, then faster and harder. My every movement was accompanied by her pained moan, which with every thrust changed into a heart-wrenching scream. Her ass was rising to meet my every thrust, not from desire, but from the body's pure, instinctive effort to escape the pain that was drilling into her. Her battered, swollen ass was now being tormented again, the impacts of my body against hers sounding wet and raw in the quiet cellar, interrupted only by her broken sobs and quickened breathing.

My cock, enveloped by her tight, hot insides, was sliding back and forth in a slick mixture of our fluids. I could feel every fold, every muscle that desperately contracted around me in a futile attempt to stop me. Her moans were now just quiet, broken gasps, as if she didn't even have the strength to scream loudly.

I could see the muscles in her thighs and back tensing, her body trembling under the assault. And the smell... it was the true, tangible essence of this moment. The metallic scent of blood, the sharp smell of sweat, the salty aroma of our own fluids, and beneath it all, the sweetest perfume of all—the pure, unadulterated scent of her fear. It was the smell of absolute, unquestionable dominion.

I looked at her face, now turned to the side. Her mouth was half-open, saliva drooling from the corner and mixing with her tears on the table. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her eyelashes trembling, but I knew she wasn't unconscious. She could feel it. She could feel everything.

My pace changed to a frantic, relentless pounding. I thrusted into her hard and ruthlessly, every blow aimed deep, all the way in. I could feel it coming—a hot wave rising from my cock. I gripped her hips even tighter, my fingers digging into her flesh, leaving red marks.

"You're mine, whore!" I growled to her, my voice hoarse with arousal and exertion. "This is just the beginning! Do you understand?! Just the fucking beginning!"

When I felt I could no longer hold back, that the explosion was inevitable, I grabbed her by her red hair and yanked her head to the side so I could see her face and, at the same time, so the other two could get a good look at her. Her eyes were still closed, but this time her lips parted slightly in a mute scream as she felt the new pain of her hair being pulled. I wanted her to be conscious when I shot my load into her. I wanted her to feel my victory, my ownership of her body.

"Open your eyes," I whispered, my voice a hiss right by her ear. "I want you to watch."

When her eyelids just fluttered in refusal, I roared right in her face: "OPEN YOUR EYES, SLUT!"

She obeyed. Her eyelashes parted and revealed a gaze that was just a narrow, milky slit full of pain, but it was a gaze. She saw me. She maybe even saw her friends. That was enough.

Then, while my body continued in that frantic rhythm, I turned my head for a second to the two in the corner. To my horrified audience. "Watch!" I thundered, and my voice hit them like the crack of a whip, forcing them to lift their gazes. "This isn't just a punishment. This is your future. Learn. Watch how I take what's mine. Watch how I take her. And know that you are next."

Sarah turned her face away, but I pointed a finger at her. "Watch, I said! Both of you!" Sarah was just sobbing and trembling, unable to obey, but Mia was watching me, her own eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. That was enough for me. Let at least her see how I'm subjugating her friend, how I'm filling her.

The last thrusts were like hammer blows. I could feel my muscles tensing to the breaking point, the cum pushing into the root of my cock. My body began to tremble. My back arched, teeth gritted. The cry that tore from my throat was a pure, raw roar of victory and pleasure.

"AAAAAARRRGHHH!"

In that moment, as if a dam had burst, my cock began to pulse and spew streams of cum deep inside her. It seemed to last an eternity. Every pulse shook me from head to toe, waves of pleasure shooting through my body like an electric current. With every spasm, I buried myself even deeper in her, as if I wanted to flood her every cell with my cum. I saw her body tense even more beneath me, as if she too could feel the hot flood in her destroyed insides.

I stayed inside her until the very last drop had come out of me, my breath catching in short, sharp gasps, my heart pounding against my ribs. Only then did I slowly, reluctantly pull out. The wet, smacking sound was like a final period.

I stood there, sweaty and breathless. My cock, slick with a mixture of her blood and my cum, was my trophy. Claire was left lying on the table, completely limp, only faint, ragged sobs indicating that she was conscious. And that was important.

I looked with satisfaction at my handiwork. Her burgundy, bruised ass. The marks of my fingers on her hips. And then I looked between her thighs. From there, from her cunt, a thick trickle of my ejaculate was leaking, gleaming white against the background of her torn skin. It was mixed with blood. Bright, fresh blood.

So it was true. The little bitch had been a virgin. And I was the one who took this precious thing from her. Definitively.

While her body was almost motionless, I heard a quiet, angry growl. It was coming from her, from Claire. Even though she was almost unconscious, broken and destroyed, the sound was full of hatred and resistance. Apparently, she could feel my cum inside her, as it ran down her thighs, the fullness, the disgrace. And it was driving her to fury.

That was good. Let her feel it. Let her know who owns her now, body and soul.

I smiled. This was only the first round. And the two in the corner already knew what awaited them.