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A House of Slaves by LongDarkRoad Chapter 21 Everything Has A Price

A House of Slaves 

Chapter 21

Everything Has a Price (They would know that)

As the clamor rose, the man spun Aquina around and pushed her to her knees, then thrust his cock into her vagina with no preliminaries. He began to pound her like a machine, making her head bob violently up and down with his thrusts.

The women were now yelling their encouragement. One woman, possibly one of the oldest, light grey hair done in curls, came up close to Aquina and worked up a significant gob which she spat directly onto Aquina’s face, before grabbing a handful of her hair, and as the man continued to relentlessly fuck her, the woman took her turn to piss in Aquina’s mouth and then slapped her hard across the face when she was done.

After fucking her for several minutes, the man withdrew his cock and placed it again in Aquina’s mouth; he ended this assault by then forcing his cock aggressively into her asshole, with the accompanying encouragement from the ladies and globs of lotion from the ever-vigilant Treena.

“Yes, that’s it.” “Fuck the slut’s ass!” “Fuck her hard, we want to see it,” came the calls.

As he worked his cock in and out of the slave, several of the ladies got in close for pictures, which they then sat and compared. A couple of ladies went back for ‘better’ shots.

In time, the man pulled out of Aquina’s ass and immediately inserted his cock into her mouth. He then diligently jerked himself, finally withdrawing and coming on her face, mushing the goo into her nostrils and spreading it on her cheeks. At this point it was another of the ladies’ turn to step up and piss in Aquina’s mouth; they were all apparently going to do this.

Treena now went around freshening drinks, as Aquina knelt and waited, the cum slowly drying on her face. She needed to urinate herself, but did not know if she would be punished if she just did it, so she held on.

Treena came next with some serving trays piled with finger foods. The ladies remarked about the freshness of the caviar, and how delicious the stuffed mushroom caps were.

One of the ladies, possibly the youngest, blonde hair (although when she lifted her dress the pubic hair didn’t quite match) squatted by Aquina and pissed on her this time, drenching her hair, the urine running down Aquina’s neck and back.

“Oh great, Maureen, now the filthy whore’s going to stink,” someone yelled, but ‘Maureen’ just wiggled her bare ass at them in response, before returning to her chair and calling for more wine.

“I want to piss on the bitch again; fill my glass Treensie.”

‘Treensie’ trotted over and added more red wine to the shiny goblet. After everyone had been freshly fed and ‘watered’, Aquina was dragged to her feet by Treena (“you stink,” she hissed in Aquina’s ear), and other hooks were lowered from the ceiling. Aquina’s arms were tied above her and apart, as were her legs, so she was essentially spread-eagled, standing up.

Once this was accomplished, the naked Treena strutted around the bound victim like a rooster in the barnyard. Various women were hooting, some were clapping. Standing in front of Aquina, Treena paused, and then stepped forward, kicking Aquina hard in her crotch. Even though Treena was barefoot, the pain was immediate and intense. Aquina called out and bent forward as far as her bonds would allow, which was very little. She was still held in place, legs spread, crotch open and vulnerable.

Treena strutted around some more, arms held high like she had just won a fight; turning, she took two quick steps and drove her foot hard again directly into the flesh of Aquina’s crotch. Stepping back, she grabbed the reddened labia with one hand and viciously pulled and twisted the lips, to the roar of the group.

“Give it to her,” someone yelled. “Kick her again; make it hurt,” someone else directed.

After several hard kicks with her right foot, Treena turned quickly and smashed her left foot up and into Aquina’s now aching crotch, labia grotesquely engorged, doubling her up as far as the bonds would allow. Aquina hung there, the world swimming, the pain unbelievable, and then it went black.

She was roused a moment later, lying on her back, one of the women waving smelling salts under her nose. “Come on little slutty, wake-y, wake-y; we have lots more for you. Come on, you’re not getting away this easy, useless brown bitch.”

When Aquina’s eyes opened, the woman yanked her to her knees and slapped her savagely across the face. “Wake up, cunt,” she screamed in her face, followed of course by then more piss. This woman had apparently drank a lot, as the urine stream went on long enough that some of the other women commented.

“My God, Alice; you are the proverbial fucking race horse. Don’t drown the slut, we’re not done with her yet.” Everyone laughed.

Aquina was again brought to her feet and tied arms straight above her as before, legs spread again. Now the women approached her, one at a time; if one was Macgregor, Aquina could not tell, most stayed behind her or to the side. Each woman struck her with a cane or a heavy riding crop or whip. These strikes, unlike the earlier whipping, were meant to hurt and to mark. Aquina cried out with each lash. The angry purple welts appeared quickly on her body; across her pelvis, her breasts, criss-crossing her buttocks, the top of her thighs. Eight women; eight strokes; eight purple welts. The pain was significant, but it was pain that Aquina had experienced before and therefore knew.

She was finally left breathing/gasping through her open mouth and nose, hanging from her ropes, as the women took another break and chatted and ate some more.

After this break, Jarvais and the woman Alice now approached and clipped large clamps onto both nipples, including the one with the ring. Jarvais then pulled a rope and two cords dropped down; clearly this room was well-equipped for events such as this.

She attached these cords to the clamps, walked a few feet to the nearest wall and pressed a button and with a whirring sound the cords began to be tightened and then, once taut, they began to actually lift Aquina off the ground, by her nipples. Her breasts were stretched obscenely and then she was lifted an inch off the floor.

Aquina heard someone screaming in agony and somewhere in her mind she registered that it was her.

As she was hanging in pain, her nipples being grotesquely elongated, one of the ladies strode forward and smashed her fist directly into Aquina’s already bruised cunt. Aquina’s new cry of agony simply disappeared into the previous and ongoing scream, she felt vomit rising in her throat, which she fought to hold back; her head again swam.

Treena now returned and lowered Aquina down, unlocking the clamps and then pushing her to the floor. A flat wooden frame, only a couple of inches high, had been placed on the ground. Aquina’s wrists, calves and feet were bound tightly to this frame as she was on all fours, and then her head was lowered and fastened so her face was just an inch above the tiles allowing her to look only to the sides.

A harness was then placed around her midsection and pulled down, arching her back, and forcing her buttocks and aching vagina high and completely open.

The room quieted a little, something new was going to happen.


Jake placed the shotgun back in its case. He was satisfied with his decision to come out to this gun range and try out the weapon. He had never fired a shotgun and needed to know what to expect. Even as large as he was, it had moved him; if you weren’t ready it could do some real damage to your shoulder. As well, one of the guys at the range had been helpful about different weights of ammunition and stuff. Good to know.

He had taken down a couple of the target sheets; you could take them if you asked. He was going to put them up on his wall; he liked how they looked, with the drawing of the human figure pretty much wiped out by the pellet shot. He smiled a little as he headed out to his car.


Brad Smithfield looked hard at his computer screen. His facial recognition software had come up empty; the cell photo was not clear enough; so he had gone old school, spending the last two hours looking at file shots of cops, and he was now looking at the photo of a cop he was pretty sure was the guy on the cell. Mark had said there were three cops and that they had called in the raid, and he had given Smithfield the address, so there could be some confirmation.

Smithfield looked with a certain amount of disappointment; this was a young cop, just a few years in. And he had a great background and good record.

Brandon Park.

Hmmmmn, thought Smithfield, what is your story, Brandon Park? In a few minutes Smithfield had found Park’s incident file, with dates, etcetera of activity. Smithfield grimaced, as Park’s record matched Mark’s info; the guy in the photo had to be Brandon Park.


In the momentary quiet of the room, Aquina heard the soft shuffle of shoes, and then the murmurs and the quiet chuckles of the onlookers; and then a gasp. But Aquina could not see what, or who, most likely, was causing this stir. Treena was then by her ear, hissing (clearly her preferred way of communication). “A leetle surprise for the whoore, but first, some more pussy fun.

The ‘fun’ was another kick delivered to Aquina’s throbbing crotch. For the next several minutes, the women came to slap (some using a wide, rubber strap), kick or viciously pull Aquina’s now reddish/purple and engorged labia. The pain simply merged into a constant, with Aquina drifting in and out of focus. More smelling salts were applied as someone noticed their victim’s head drooping (as much as it could, with its restraints).

“We want the thing awake,” was the comment.

“Yeah, no point in beating a dead horse,” someone else said to raucous laughter; admittedly, things are funnier if you’re drinking.

Satisfied that their slave was revived, Treena placed two blocks under and against Aquina’s breasts. Watching like in a dream, Aquina saw the unpleasant assistant bring out a small hammer and then the pain; Treena had driven two small, finishing nails directly through Aquina’s nipples, even the one with the ring, and into the wooden blocks; the crowd, as they say, went wild.

In her agony, Aquina wondered what she had done to earn this emotion, almost hatred, that was being directed at her. Her thought was interrupted then by the appearance of ‘the visitor’ she had heard earlier; a little man; a true dwarf, in fact, who had been brought now in front of the bound victim.

As Treena removed the man’s shorts with a flourish, there was a gasp, as his cock sprang into view. While the black man’s member had been large; this freakish instrument was both long and thick, reminding one of an old-fashioned rolling pin, as it stood out obscenely from the small body.

“It’s a fucking battering ram,” someone called out.

“His cock is as big as he is,” someone else yelled.

The women now began clapping and yelling like a mob, and suddenly they began their chant once again, with a slight alteration. “Fuck. The. Slut. Fuck. The. Slut.” And as they chanted, they stamped their feet. Some of them were standing and Aquina could see their shoes. The two nearest her were wearing Gucci leather pumps.

They’re stamping their Guccis, Aquina, through the pain and fear, thought to herself in amazement; but she did not have long to ponder this strange situation.

A fairly petite, reddish-haired woman wearing a conservative tweed jacket and skirt combination, rushed to Aquina’s head, quickly pushed up her skirt and pissed on Aquina’s face from about a foot away, directing the stream onto her nose and hair. “Way to go, Candace!” someone yelled, “make a mess why don’t you!”

Candace then drove two fingers into her own pussy and pumped furiously until she had an orgasm right there in front of Aquina, just as the dwarf went behind her. Aquina was wet enough to allow the huge cock’s entry, but it was still an unwelcome intrusion and Aquina was certain that damage was being done.

To the continued chorus of “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” the little man began pushing and then sawing away for several moments, until the chant changed to, “Ass, Ass, Ass, Ass…”

It can’t be, Aquina thought, struggling without success to escape; he couldn’t force that monster into her ass.

But he did, with assistance from Treena and more gobs of anal lube, the large cock slowly, painfully, forced its way in, tearing flesh as it entered. Aquina existed now in a blur, passing out at one point but held in place. She awoke to the shouts of, “Dwarf cum on the whore!” as the group saluted the orgasm, evident by white globs on Aquina’s thighs; some women clapped, of course. Others simply clinked glasses in support of the event.

Treena then led the dwarf around the room, in a victory lap it appeared, to the continued cheers of the group. Glasses were refreshed once more, the last of the munchies were brought around and the group chatted and looked over the photos all had been taking.

Things were now heating up with the ladies themselves; Aquina saw one woman go down on her knees and bury her face between (likely) Arlana’s thighs. Maureen took off her shoes and stepped quickly up to Aquina’s rear before kicking her hard between her legs, right on her swollen and bruised pubic area. Aquina cried out again but the room was too noisy for anyone to notice. She sagged as well as she could, her body bound and held.

Then two men, ‘The Mexicans’ (“the whore should like that, they’re likely her brothers”) someone joked loudly to laughter, entered next. To chants of “Spit Roast”, and then “Pig Roast”, the women partied as Aquina was double-penetrated in both holes, her punished anus shouting misery.

Aquina fought to keep herself from simply screaming. She wanted to call out to Macgregor, to help her, to save her, but something inside her held that back. She had faced many nasty situations in her life, her nerve had never abandoned her; she needed to focus on twenty minutes from now, when this was over, when she was released.

After both men ejaculated on Aquina’s face, with the ever-helpful Treena spooning up the goo and feeding the slave, the room quieted.

Aquina next heard the ‘swish’ and then felt the sting of the ‘Thai cane’, as it whipped across her buttocks. “AAAAhhhh!” she cried out.

“One,” called the ladies, applauding. Then ‘swish’ and “Two”. This was a nasty cane, thin and flexible, and its lash carried a bite, leaving a nasty wheal across the welts already there. It was a punishment device, not a stimulation one. This again was meant to hurt.

The ladies counted and applauded to “Ten,” at which point Arlana handed the cane to Treena and moved to

Aquina’s head. Her dress was back on and she lifted it once again, placed her foot on Aquina’s back, and proceeded to spray her piss on Aquina’s hair and shoulders. The liquid ran down and over the still glossy if sodden brown curls and the lovely neck; some even went into Aquina’s eyes, stinging; but also covering the evidence of tears.

Aquina did not cry, ever, but there it was, tears mixing with the piss and running down her cheeks. Aquina squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible and thought of…Harriet Smith.

Smith’s face swam into view, even as several of the women took their turns again kicking her and pissing on her; she focused on Harriet Smith.

Smith, smiling at her, that first day they met, telling her what a good and lovely girl she was. Kissing her with affection; the first time that had ever happened to her in her life. A good and lovely girl.

Coming back to the present, something was inside her now; Treena was using some device to fuck her with; the nasty woman then forced the device into Aquina’s tortured anus; the pain was indescribable, and it appeared that the instrument was something that could be enlarged, for as Treena withdrew it, dredging the anal passage like a barge in a canal, the flesh was stretched beyond its limits.

In and out; in and out; Treena stroked, stretching and tearing the skin as it moved back and forth. Aquina tried to raise her head, tried to focus on Ms. Smith, tried to scream; but the shouting of the ladies filled the room, and then there was a cheer as Treena shoved the device into Aquina’s mouth.

“How’d the bitch like that?” someone yelled. “Maybe the bitch and the dwarf should get married,” another woman howled, laughing at her own joke. “Or both the wetbacks, keep it in the family,” someone added.

Then Aquina heard a rising volume of chatter. In time, this became mixed with the sound of chairs being moved

and women saying goodbyes. Three more ladies came to stand beside her, to raise their expensive dresses and cover her body with their piss. One commented in a mater-of-fact way, “Look, she’s bleeding,” as a ribbon of blood was now running down the inside of Aquina’s thighs, mixed with cum and the streams of piss.

Then Treena came beside her, telling her what a filthy disgusting whore she was, but loosening her neck bond so she now had several inches of play; then loosening her wrist bonds and untying her calf restraints so that Aquina had a little freedom; she could rise her head and wipe the piss out of her eyes, for example, but she was still bound to the wooden frame. Treena took the device and the guard from Aquina’s mouth, pulled the nails from her nipples, to more anguish, and went off.

Gradually, all the chatter ended.

Finally, Aquina heard two sets of footsteps heading away. Then the room went dark; she heard the sound of the door closing. They had left her there, alone, but bound.

Aquina bent her lovely face to the floor and finally urinated, the piss painful as it left her battered body and ran down her legs, mixing with all the other liquids and pooling by her knees.

It was a fitting end to a day unlike any other.

****               ****

Despite her bonds, uncomfortable position and pain, Aquina had drifted off to a troubled sleep. Always a light sleeper, she roused in the night, aware of someone near her and then noticed light coming from a side hallway. Then a voice, low and quiet, by her side.

“Aquina, wake up, please, look at me.” It was Bella Traynor, a look of concern on her face.

“H-hey,” Aquina said, moving stiffly to rise as much as she could, as Bella began to unfasten her bonds. Suddenly the main door opened and Arlana Jarvais was in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“What the hell does it look like?” Bella replied.

“You have no right. Now move away from the slave.”

“No,” Bella responded simply, continuing to unfasten straps. Aquina’s wrists were free and she began to rub some life back into her arms.

“Bella!” Arlana shouted.

Bella got up and strode to her sister, both going out into the hall and closing the door. Aquina could hear their loud voices but not understand any of the discussion. But her hands were now free and she began, cautiously as her groin and ass were painful and tender even to touch, to untie her legs. She had freed herself and was gently massaging her legs when Bella returned, a determined look on her young face.

“So…?’ Aquina began.

“Fuck her, she’s insane,” Bella said simply, “let’s get you going. Sorry, you are…um, very gross; I don’t want to hold you. Uh, take my hand, okay…here we go.”

And with Bella’s help, Aquina got to her feet, staggering a little and needing support. Her legs didn’t want to work and her groin was screaming agony. Bella led her slowly down the hall to a shower, undressing and getting into the stall with her.

The warm water felt so unbelievably lovely and Aquina simply let it sweep down her body in comforting waves. Bella gently scrubbed her from head to toe, shampooing her hair three times and working with a body brush to remove the black markings. There was not a hint of anything sexual in any of it; it was gentle and caring and thorough.

When satisfied with the cleansing, Bella took Aquina to a side room and gently towelled her dry with thick, fluffy, warm towels. Then she turned to her injuries. Placing Aquina on her side, Bella examined her ass,

Aquina wincing with each touch. “Fuck, those bitches,” Bella remarked, “Your, um, anus has been torn in three places and your nipples, Christ, have been punctured. You will be sore for a few days and need to clean yourself carefully. I will deal with all this now, but it will, like, sting, hey.” Bella applied antiseptic lotion to the injured areas, and cold compresses to Aquina’s labia, which were red and purple, swollen and tender.

“This is going to be all kinds of colors in a couple of days,” Bella remarked, taking the cold packs from Aquina’s groin.

“Thank you, Bella, you’re wonderful. It already feels …better.”

Bella left, returning in a few moments with some clothes. “I don’t know where yours are, but you can wear these home.” She produced underwear, jogging pants and a hoody. Aquina got to her feet, still quite shaky but mobile and dressed, but still painful despite Bella’s work.

Slowly the two of them made their way upstairs and out into the early morning; just the barest hint of light was showing in the east. Bella guided Aquina to her car and produced something from her pocket. “I’ve got your keys. You get in; I’ll drive.”


Shareen Macgregor’s phone lay near her on the night stand, and it was buzzing. Despite the success of her evening and Aquina, she had not slept well, her dreams unsettling. She looked at her clock now as she raised herself up to answer her phone; five AM. It was Arlana Jarvais.

“Just letting you know Bella has released your slave and they have gone.”

“Umm, okay. Thank you, Arlana. Talk later.”

“Cheers. Spectacular party, Shareen. The ladies were raving. Ta.”

Jarvais hung up and Macgregor sat back, unsettled. It may have been a spectacular party for the women, but it

was more than what Macgregor expected. She debated calling Aquina; best let Bella get her home. She was going to see to that anyway, so that was okay. Her alarm was set for six so she decided to just get up now and get going. She would contact her…slave, later.

Once home, Aquina took three extra strength Tylanol and sat in the armchair in her room. Bella had helped her get in and Aquina was very happy that no one was up to see her. She could now get herself together alone. She didn’t want to answer any questions and she didn’t want to have anyone see her, hobbling around. She lay back and let the drugs take some effect. Amazingly, she dozed off, right in her chair.


Brad Smithfield was back at his desk early; he needed to get all his ducks in a row if this operation was to move forward. He had talked with his supervisor, without letting out any names, and now had the green light to spend today looking into “things”.

In this case, things being Brandon Park and his buddies.

(End of Chapter 21)

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