Three sex slaves - Part 2

One broken. Two to go. After the brutal punishment of the defiant Claire, the rules of the game in the dark cellar are changing. While the frightened girls tremble in the cellar, Luke shops in the city for the equipment for his new playground. His plan is clear: separate them and break each one individually. To make a perfect sex slave out of each of them.

Tags: slave, BDSM, domination, dominant male, submissive female, ownership, rape, sex, sexual slavery

Words: 8384

Sample of story - 

I could still feel the raw energy pulsing in my veins. But now I had to think practically. That little redheaded bitch had shown me that even if they're scared, they can still try something stupid. And I couldn't be on guard twenty-four hours a day.

"Stay where you are," I growled at Mia and Sarah, who were still staring at me with wide eyes, unable to tear their gaze away from Claire and the bloody devastation on her ass. "Don't even move."

I began to search the cellar. There was a lot of stuff here. Old, rusty tools that could be used as a stabbing weapon. Shards from broken canning jars. Pieces of wood with sharp edges. Everything that seemed even slightly dangerous, I took and threw into a pile by the stairs to take up later. I didn't want to leave them anything with which they could hurt themselves... or, what's worse, hurt me. Even the weakest mouse will bite when it's cornered.

Against one of the walls, behind an old, rotten cabinet, I came across something unexpected. I pulled the cabinet away; it moved with difficulty and a groan. And there it was. An old, enameled sink, completely covered in dust and cobwebs, but it looked intact. Curiously, I turned the faucet, which looked like it would fall apart at the first touch. To my surprise, after a moment of gurgling and sputtering, water began to flow from it. At first rusty and dirty, but then it cleared up. Cold, clean water.

A sink. With running water. Down here in the cellar.

For a moment, I just stood there and looked at the thin stream of water. And then I remembered. My mother. A long time ago, when I was still a little boy, she had a potter's wheel down here. She loved working with clay. She always said she needed water at hand so she could keep the clay moist and wash her hands. Of course, that's why it's here. She must have had it installed. Old, but still functional.

A smile spread across my face again, a different one this time. A calculating one. This... this changed things. This was useful. If I want to keep them here longer, and I did want to keep them here longer, they would need water. Not just for drinking. But also for... other things. So they could keep themselves clean. At least to a certain extent. And I wouldn't have to haul buckets up and down.

I looked at Claire, still lying motionlessly on the table, and then at the two poor things in the corner. Yes. This sink would have its use. My new toys would have access to water. And I would have another way to control them. To dictate even their most basic needs.