The Adventures of Barb Wire Episode - 1 The Bounty Hunter - Chapter 4 Enslaved

Discussion in 'Adventures of Barb Wire' started by L'Espion, Nov 28, 2018.

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    The Adventures of Barb Wire


    Episode 1 The Bounty Hunter


    Story by L’Espion [email protected]


    Chapter 4 Enslaved

    Barbara (Barb) Wire was cold, exhausted, hungry, and stank from the filth of her ordeal. Salmon and his thugs hadn’t broken her, but they had come close. Following her session with Salmon several of his men had shown up as requested. They had hauled her down to the main floor where they had made great use of the dowel binding her arms by attaching ropes to it and using a ceiling beam to haul her off her feet. It approximated a strapado position and was certainly just as painful. Then they tied each of her ankles to a heavy piece of furniture, spreading her, and proceeded to give her the fucking of her life, each man taking her in turn over and over again until she was so exhausted that she didn’t even had the strength to stop them from taking her orally.


    When they finally took her down she could not even stand, but they made damned sure that if she did recover she would not go anywhere by packing her into a cage normally used for transporting exotic animals. Measuring four feet square at each end and six feet in length, it was big enough for her to lie down in, but not stand. It contained a mattress, a bottle for water, a bucket for her bodily functions, and nothing else. Fortunately, her captors removed the cuffs on her ankles and untied her before they tossed her into the cage.


    “Enjoy the ride, babe,” Salmon jeered. “It’s a one-way ticket and I’ve found the perfect buyer for you, not the one I originally had in mind, but certainly a suitable substitute.” He did not elaborate, but from the grins on the faces of his henchmen it was not something she was likely to enjoy. Beaten and demoralized, Barb did not attempt a reply. Naked and helpless, she could only watch as her cage was rolled into the back of a panel van and the door slammed shut leaving her in darkness.


    After that it was a bumpy ride probably back down the same roads she had traveled, although she missed most of it. She lapsed into an exhausted sleep almost before the van started moving and did not awaken until the door was opened once again. The cage was rolled down a ramp onto a concrete floor and Barb found that she was in what appeared to be an aircraft hangar. A short distance away was a twin engine executive jet near which several men were standing. One of them, a tall well-dressed man with skin the colour of obsidian approached the cage.


    “What is this?” he asked the men who had rolled the cage from the van. “This is what I paid twenty-five-thousand dollars for? She doesn’t look like she’s worth ten.”


    The man had a pronounced African accent although what part of Africa Barb had no idea, but it wasn’t his accent that affected her, but his words. “What the hell do you mean? Twenty-five-thousand? I’m worth twenty times that.”


    It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but even after what she had been through she was still Barb Wire. In any case it got the African’s attention. “Well,” he said. “Perhaps there is something to her after all.”


    He turned back to the other men standing by the plane and said something in a language Barb could not understand. Several of them wearing some sort of uniform came forward and took charge of the cage, rolling it toward the jet, past the one man who hadn’t moved and was dressed as a pilot. Unlike the other men he was much lighter in colour and spoke in an unmistakable inner city American accent. “Well, bitch,” he said, as the cage was rolled up a ramp and into the plane, “looks like you just bought yourself a ticket to Rurutonga.”


    Rurutonga? Where the hell was that?


    Wherever it was the journey there wasn’t going to be particularly pleasant. Barb found herself in a baggage compartment. The men handling the cage locked the wheels, secured it with some cargo netting and then slammed the door, leaving her in darkness. A short time later she was aware of movement and realized that the jet was being rolled out of the hangar an insight that was confirmed when the engines started up.


    “Shit,” she murmured. “Shit, shit, shit.” She really couldn’t think of anything else to say and her exhaustion had returned after her brief revival. Shortly after takeoff she once again lapsed into semi-unconsciousness.


    She awoke to discover that someone had placed a plate of food in the cage along with a full bottle of water. She found that she was more thirsty than hungry, but her appetite returned after she had drunk almost all of the bottle. The food was plain fare, but good quality, and although it was cold she made short work of it and then finished off the bottle of water. After that she slept again and didn’t awaken until a change in the sounds of the aircraft’s engines followed by the roar of the wind striking the flaps as they deployed for landing. Then there was a bump and the sudden pull of deceleration. Had she not been so groggy from sleep she would have grabbed the bars of the cage, but it did not occur to her and she found herself being hurled forward. Fortunately, she didn’t have to travel far and the cage had been properly secured to the cargo hold, so she gained only a few more bruises as she was slammed up against the bars of the cage.


    “God dammit, I should have been ready for that.” She almost felt back to her old self; although the bruising in various parts of her body reminded her of what she had been through. “God-damned bastard. I’ll get out of this somehow and then I’m going to pay Salmon a visit. I’m not beaten yet.”


    She reminded herself, however that being in a cramped cage was not the best place from which to launch a vendetta. She would have to suppress her defiant attitude; at least to the extent of finding out where she was and what was intended for her, otherwise she would never get out of the cage. She had to find out who her supposed “owner” was, where Rurutonga was, and what was intended for her. She might even have to play the part of the submissive female for a while until she was able to take matters into her own hands.


    That last was an incredibly galling concept. Barb had never been submissive in her life; unless it was that brief period between birth and the age of two. Pretending to be a compliant female would be as difficult as anything she had ever asked herself to do, but she might have no choice.


    The door to the cargo hold suddenly opened, revealing the pilot and a couple of other men. “We’s here, babe,” the pilot announced. “Get ready to meet your master.”


    The opening of the door brought with it a wave of heat and humidity. The two dark-skinned men with him released the cage from its moorings and rolled it out into intense sunlight. From her cramped position, Barb was able to see that she was in an airport of modest size with just a few buildings and what appeared to be a main terminal at some distance across the paved surface. Beyond that was a green line that bordered the airport on three sides. Wherever Rurutonga was it did not merit much in the way of an airport, and it appeared that the forest came right to its edge. However, she and her handlers did not stay where they were any longer than it took to roll her up another ramp to the back of a box van. Then the van was on its way to wherever it was going.


    The van hummed along a smooth roadway for only a short distance before coming to a stop. There was the sound of voices in some unknown language and then the sound of a heavy gate being swung back. There was another drive of about a minute and then another stop. This time there was the sound of a roller door opening. Barb guessed that she had been driven into some sort of compound and was now entering a garage.


    Her last guess she found to be accurate. The van stopped and its door was thrown open. The uniformed African attendants were there and they rolled the cage out of the van and then across a concrete floor toward a door where a uniformed attendant stood on guard. Her purchaser was there as well as the pilot and they walked beside the cage as it was rolled toward the door. “Time to clean you up,” he pronounced. “We can’t have you looking like that when you are presented to the His Excellency.”


    His Excellency? What sort of bizarre situation had she been dragged into? She could only conclude from what little she had seen of her surroundings and the length of the flight that she had been transported to some obscure African nation. Rurutonga certainly sounded African and the dark skin colour of her captors certainly seemed to indicate that she had been sold to some petty African tyrant. She then noticed for the first time that the uniformed guard at the door was a woman. She and the man who had purchased her exchanged a few words in the unknown language and the guard keyed in a combination on a keypad. Immediately the heavy steel door swung open, once again admitting blinding sunlight. The cage was then rolled through the door into a most impressive garden. Beyond the garden was a magnificent building gleaming white in the sunlight. The pilot grinned down at her. Nice ain’t it? Welcome to Noovoh Versales.”


    Even Barb winced at the pilot’s mangling of the French language, but her other escort seemed used to it. “You can go now, Norton,” he said. “You know where your quarters are.”


    “Shore do, Mr. Tonga,” Norton replied. “I’m looking forward to few cool beers and some female company.”


    With that Norton sauntered off, however, he was immediately replaced by several more female guards. They were all dressed in khaki uniforms and seemed well acquainted with the weapons they carried. Tonga spoke to one of them and handed her a set of keys. “Sergeant Aliba will look after you,” Tonga said. “You need to be cleaned up before you are presented to His Excellency. I will look in on you later.” He strode off toward the shining palace leaving Barb with the guards.


    Sergeant Aliba unlocked the cage and swung open the door. “Out you come,” she said. “And no tricks. Mr. Tonga said you were dangerous.”


    Still chained, Barb was hardly in a position to walk let alone resort to any “tricks.” Also she was so stiff from her long stay in the cage that she could barely crawl out of it.


    “Hmmp!” Sergeant Aliba snorted. “Maybe Mr. Tonga exaggerate.” Her English was not perfect, but quite understandable even with the heavy African accent. Barb said nothing. The weaker her captors thought she was the better her chances of escape. It was best to play along and make her move when there was the best chance of succeeding. She had a very strong suspicion that any failed escape attempt would be her last.


    “Come,” Aliba said. “We get you cleaned up.” Without waiting to see if Barb obeyed the Sergeant walked toward the palace. Escorted by the other guards, Barb followed, limping somewhat due to her long time in the cage and the fact that she was still feeling the effects of the brutal gang-rape she had suffered. She gritted her teeth against the pain and focused on following Aliba. She’d get Salmon for this if she died trying, but first she had to get out of her current predicament.


    They didn’t go the way Tonga and Norton had gone. Instead they entered the palace by a door set in the wall, ignoring the magnificent front steps of the palace. Barb found herself in a dark cool hallway that had her almost blind after the brilliance of the African sun. Aliba was waiting for her and led the way as they walked through the lower reaches of the palace. They passed several doors until they finally came to a room that was obviously a communal shower room. Aliba motioned to the showers. “Clean yourself. I will wait.”


    Barb walked to the nearest shower and turned on the water. To her relief there was as much hot water as she wanted. Although it was amazing hot and humid outside, the lower reaches of the palace were cool and she had no wish for a cold shower. She turned the water up full force and luxuriated in the feeling of the sweat and grime that coated her body being washed away. The hot water also seemed to work some of the kinks out of her muscles and she felt much better as she continued to let the water play over her.


    Aliba made no attempt to hurry her and Barb wondered how long she would have been allowed to stand in the shower if she had not decided to get on with the job of cleaning herself. Wonderful as the shower was, she was still very tired and also quite hungry and thirsty. She picked up a bottle of shampoo and went to work on her tangled hair. By the time she had finished applying the conditioner in the surprisingly well-equipped shower she was too tired to continue. She turned off the water and accepted the towel that a woman dressed as a servant handed to her.


    “Come,” Aliba ordered as Barb finished with the towel. She put on a white robe that the servant handed her and followed Aliba down the corridor. They ended up in a comfortable siting room in which were several other women, some dressed as soldiers and others in servants’ attire. She was taken in hand by several of the servants who sat her down and proceeded to comb out the tangled mess that was her hair as well as give her a full manicure and pedicure. She almost resisted when the women’s attention turned to her underarms and trimming her pubic hair, but she thought better of it. After all nothing was being done to her that she might not have done voluntarily.


    Aliba gave her an exploratory look and nodded her approval. “Good,” she said. “Now you eat and then sleep.”


    A further short walk took her to a dining room where a meal was set before her. It was a full multicourse meal and contained a number of mystery foods she was not familiar with, but she was too famished to care. She ate all of it and drank the jug of beer that was included. The latter left her quite sleepy and she needed no urging to follow Aliba to her sleeping quarters. The latter turned out to be what she expected; a small room with a bed, toilet, and sink and a heavy steel door. However, she sank down on the bed with considerable relief and was asleep within seconds. She did not awaken until the door was opened once more.


    Aliba was there along with two other female guards. “Come with me,” she ordered


    Well rested and recovered from her ordeal, Barb judged whether or not she could take the three women. It was just possible, but she noted that the two guards were standing well back from Aliba and on opposite sides of her. She would have to be incredibly quick and if she failed she was very likely to end up being nicely perforated by the automatic weapons the guards were holding. Cooperation seemed like a better option for now. If she could lull her guards into a false sense of security her chances of escape would be far better.


    Aliba led her first to the dining hall, where a breakfast was served to her. It was some of cereal, possibly millet, along with milk and juice. Then she was escorted to another room down several corridors. She was surprised to find herself entering what appeared to be a well-equipped infirmary. “Sit down there,” a white-coated man said to her motioning to an examination table. He was in his early thirties and judging from his accent was English.


    “What the hell?” Barb responded.


    “Sit down,” the man repeated. “I’m Doctor Donaldson and I’m going to give you a complete physical.”


    “Like fuck you are,” Barb retorted. “You touch me and it is you who will be needing a doctor.”


    “As you wish, Miss Wire,” Donaldson answered. “But you will not be allowed near His Excellency until you have been certified healthy and free of disease. And I can conduct the examination with you conscious or unconscious.” He snapped his fingers and two very large male orderlies appeared. They were both holding shock batons.


    “What, you’re going to shock and beat me into submission?” Barb growled. “I’ll hardly be in proper condition to approach his so-called-excellency if you do that.”


    “We are aware of your violent reputation, Miss Wire,” Donaldson said. “You can submit quietly or force will be used. It is entirely up to you.”


    A quick glance told Barb that the situation was hopeless. The two uniformed soldiers had their weapons at the ready although they were not pointed at her, and the two men with the shock batons were ready to attack. “All right,” she relented. She moved to the table. Immediately Aliba placed straps on her wrists and ankles, and then Dr. Donaldson went to work.


    It was as thorough an examination as Barb got from her personal physician, but at the end of it Donaldson pronounced her clean and safe. “You’re as healthy a specimen as I’ve ever examined,” he said, “both physically and sexually. His Excellency will be most pleased.”


    She was released from the table and her robe returned to her. Then she was taken back to her cell, where she remained for the next three days, except for walks in what she decided was an exercise yard, and a daily trip to the shower room. Her meals were brought to her in her cell and she visited was once each day by Doctor Donaldson and the mysterious Mr. Tonga.


    On the third day Donaldson pronounced her fit. “Her bruises have disappeared and she is ready for whatever use you might want to make of her,” he announced to Tonga.


    “Good,” Tonga replied. “Tomorrow she will meet His Excellency.”


    Barb forced herself to relax. She desperately wanted to escape, but until she was let out of the cell there would be no chance of that. So she waited, reading one of several soppy romance novels to pass the time until she was too tired to stay awake.


    She was awake and waiting the next morning when Sergeant Aliba showed up with two other female guards. She was once again taken to the shower room, given a good breakfast and then returned to the cell. She waited there for the rest of the day until Aliba returned in the evening. This time there were four guards and the two large men with the batons.


    Aliba did not enter the cell right away. Instead she subjected Barb to one more indignity. “Put this on,” Aliba ordered.


    Barb looked defiantly at the chain Aliba held out to her. It was lighter than the one Salmon had placed on her, almost decorative, but it was more than strong enough to hold her. “We do it for you if you like,” Aliba added.


    Reluctantly Barb did as she was ordered. Only when the chain was secured around her ankles and waist did the two men with the batons enter the cell. But Barb was essentially helpless. The chain encircled her waist and then dropped down to a second chain that linked her ankles. Her hands were free, but she could not move her feet more than a half step, rendering escape impossible. Resignedly, she once again followed Aliba. Surprisingly she ended up back in the grooming salon. There she was stripped of her robe and she was once again given a thorough beauty treatment. Her robe was not returned to her as Aliba she led her down still another series of corridors.


    As they moved through the corridors they passed several more female guards. In fact their number seemed to increase the farther along they went. It seemed that wherever she was being taken it was worthy of intense security. It also meant that escape was going to be much more difficult. She would not only have to overpower her escort, but find a way past the other guards.


    She was still mystified as to why so many of the uniformed guards were women. However, that question was pushed to the back of her mind when Aliba finally stopped before an elevator. She tapped a password into a keypad by the door and then motioned Barb inside as the doors slid open.


    The elevator moved up several floors before coming to a halt. The doors slid open and Barb and her escorts stepped from the elevator. To her surprise she found that the elevator opened on an open space that contrasted sharply with the utilitarian corridors where she had been before. Now she was facing polished marble floors and walls highlighted with vivid bands of gold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings and stone plinths contained expensive vases and sculptures. Busts of legendary leaders of the past such as Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and Adolph Hitler lined the walls and mixed in with them were several busts of an African leader that Barb did not recognize, but who she had a feeling she was about to meet very soon.


    There were also numerous guards; all women, who lined the halls at intervals of twenty feet or so. Barb was marched through this impressive display until they reached a pair of large gold doors flanked by no less than four other guards. As they approached two of the women seized the door handles and swung them wide. Without stopping Sergeant Aliba led Barb into a room of barbaric splendour.


    Barb found herself staring at the gold, silver, and platinum fixtures; expensive furnishings; and magnificent artworks; several of which she recognized at having values in the millions. However, she did not have long to take it all in. Aliba continued through the room and then up a sweeping marble staircase and along another marble corridor until they reached another set of double doors. These were pulled open by her escort and they entered a bedroom that was as opulent as everything else Barb had seen in the palace.


    The room was dominated by the largest circular bed Barb had ever seen. It was fully four yards in diameter and a yard high. In fact it was encircled by a padded step. Four posts arched to meet over the centre of the bed, were set at equal intervals around it. Each featured chains similar in gauge to those Barb already wore. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what they were for, and Barb was quite helpless to stop her captors from securing her in the middle of the bed.


    She didn’t go willingly, but two applications of the shock batons rendered her almost unconscious. As she struggled feebly she was dragged to the bed and her arms and legs were secured to the each of the four posts. When she regained full use of her senses she found herself in the centre of the bed, each of her arms and legs stretched tight at angles of about forty-five degrees to each of the posts. She was splayed wide and helpless and entirely alone, her escort having disappeared after they finished securing her. Naked and helpless she could only wait for what came next.


    “Looks like this is where I get to meet His Excellency,” Barb muttered as she tugged at her restraints. She tested each one and quickly determined that she was not going to escape unless her captors decided to release her.


    “So this is the warrior woman, c’est magnifique!”


    Startled by the voice, Barb turned her head in the direction it had come from and found herself looking at a figure who seemed to have adopted Edi Amin’s dress code as his model. His shimmering blue uniform was so heavily laden with medals that they served as a more than adequate replacement for body armour. Barb reckoned that nothing less than an armour piercing round was going to get through that chest full of metal. Even without the hardware the dark-skinned giant would have been an impressive figure.


    He stood at least six-and-a-half feet tall with gleaming black skin and flashing white teeth. He was powerfully built and must have weighed close to three hundred pounds. In addition to his array of medals he also wore a sword and an officer’s hat, complete with a bold metal insignia above the peak of the hat.


    He was also not alone. He was accompanied by an escort of four of the most beautiful women Barb had ever seen. Tall, with the ebony skin of the other Africans Barb had encountered, they were much more lightly dressed. Although all of them carried machine pistols it appeared that they had been selected as much for appearance as for security.


    “What do you think, Uzoma?” His Excellency asked. “Is she worth the hundred thousand I paid for her?”


    Hundred thousand? Barb wondered. It appears that I have been marked up.


    “She is very pale, Excellency,” Uzoma replied. “But attractive for one of her type.”


    His Excellency laughed. “I think I detect a bit of jealously, Uzoma. Do not worry I do not plan to use her as part of my bodyguard.” He stepped closer and looked down at Barb. “I am Kwaku Mohombi, President for Life of Rurutonga. You seem to be what I ordered. If you please me things will go well for you. If you do not…, well, I can find other uses for you.”


    Like the other Rurutongans Barb had met, Mohombi’s English was accented, but it was more than clear enough. Either she performed for her African overlord or she would likely spend the last days of her life with her legs spread in an African brothel. Neither prospect was to her liking, but right now it seemed she had no choice.


    “This is my personal guard,” Mohomi continued, inclining his head toward the four women. “Dayo, Amaka, Olabisi, and of course, Uzoma. They are all intensely loyal to me and like most of my other bodyguards they are women. I find women to be much more loyal and trustworthy than men. Perhaps if you display the same loyalty chains will not be necessary.”


    He must be crazy, Barb thought. He talks of loyalty when he’s got me chained to a bed.


    Uzoma stepped closer to the bed. “I would not trust this one, Excellency. She is American and no doubt filled with deceit.”


    There was an unmistakable note of jealousy in the woman’s voice. She and the other three women were all dressed in a comic book fantasy of what Black women with guns should look like. Each of them was dressed in tight-fitting blue shorts that left their long legs bare until they reached the tops of high-heeled boots that came halfway to their knees. The boots were certainly eye-catching, but hardly practical. They also wore military style matching blue shirts that were tied in a bow just below their breasts, exposing their slender waists and bellies. The shirts were open to the third button leaving a generous display of female flesh. Their ensemble was completed with a fuchsia beret.


    And, of course, there were the guns; Tec-9 submachine guns, the only part of the women’s wardrobe that looked properly military. If they knew how to use them; and the probably did, the high heels wouldn’t matter so much.


    Mohomi smiled at Uzoma’s comment. “Do not worry, my pretty. She is just a plaything. Once I tire of her you and the others will once again have a place in my bed.”


    Uzoma hardly seemed satisfied with this comment. She sent daggers of hate toward Barb as Mohomi prepared to take his prize. Jeezus, Barb thought. There is nothing like being hated for being a victim. She filed the fact away for future reference aware of the fact that Mohomi had taken off his hat and that the other three women were engaged in helping him remove his chest-full of metal. “Stop while you have a chance, Mohomi” she warned. “I am an American citizen. When the State Department hears of this you will suffer the full consequences of American retaliation.”


    “Hah,” Mohomi replied, speaking to his female minions. “See how she begs to be spared. Perhaps she has heard of the might of my spear.”


    “I’m not begging,” Barb shouted. “I’m warning you that there will be grave consequences if I am not released at once.”


    “It appears that I have purchased a very beautiful blonde nag,” Mohomi said. “Uzoma, gag her. She will not need her mouth; at least not until she has been tamed a little.”


    “Stop,” Barb shouted. “You’re making a serious mis…,mmpph!”


    Uzoma had moved immediately when Mohomi had given the order; gleefully strapping a black ball gag in place. The ball forced Barb’s jaws wide, rendering her unable to do more than mouth unintelligible threats.


    Mohomi’s medals were gone now, neatly placed on a stand next to the bed. His sword was given similar treatment and the rest of his uniform was carefully placed on hangers and stored in a nearby wardrobe as the undressing continued. There were multiple layers to the uniform and it must have been extremely uncomfortable in the hot, humid climate, but Barb guessed that Mohomi was much more into appearances than practicality.


    Mohomi continued speaking as he was disrobed, addressing his comments to her. “You see, my white goddess, I do not fear your government. Rurutonga is rich in diamonds and emeralds and far too important to your government as a strategic asset for it to dare take any action against me. Even now I am engaged in negotiations for my country to be used as a staging ground for American surveillance drones. I have your State Department in my pocket. I doubt they would take any action to save a blonde American whore, even if it knew that you were here, which I can assure you it does not.”


    “Mph mmmth thmm,ummph mm m dmmph smmp cmmp thmmkp mmp mmppp!” Barb replied. What she had meant to say was: “You’ll think otherwise when a drone strike comes through your window,” but the gag made enunciation a little difficult. And then she stared in disbelief as Mohomi revealed his “spear.”


    Jeezus! Jeezus! Is that thing even real? She couldn’t stop herself from straining at her chains in fear.


    Mohomi was hung like the proverbial bull, and perhaps then some. He grinned down at her. “So you see the might of my spear,” he said, stroking the huge organ. “My lion tamer or in your case lioness tamer. It will soon have you singing a different tune.” He was now completely nude; huge, black, and powerful. He turned to his four bodyguards. “Leave us. I will summon you if necessary.”


    The women traipsed out of the room, Uzoma giving Barb one more hate-filled glance over her shoulder as she closed the door. “Women!” Mohomi commented. “They are so much like cats. You have to stroke every one to keep them happy and still they spit and hiss at each other. And now my lioness, if has become time to tame you.”


    He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between Barb’s splayed legs. “Mpph!” Barb protested, attempting to arch herself out of his way, but of course, the attempt was useless. Mohomi gripped her hips and then slowly thrust into her.


    It was a good thing that he took his time with her. Nothing that Salmon and his thugs had done to her could compare to Mohomi’s monstrous shaft. At first she felt as if she was being split open and then it changed to a sensation of impalement. She whimpered into the gag, her teeth clenched hard on the rubber ball to keep from screaming. Her body arched and twisted in pain, but Mohomi kept up his slow steady penetration, taking her a few millimeters at a time with slow deliberate thrusts, forcing her body to respond.


    Her own vaginal lubricants flowed, easing Mohomi’s invasion. It still hurt, but now there was a hint of pleasure as well as he continued to thrust into her, a sense of pleasure that steadily grew as his hands moved over her body, stroking her in the most sensitive of places. His kissed and suckled her breasts, marveling at their firm sweetness. Barb moaned, her body betraying her despite the pain of Mohomi’s continued penetration. He kept at her, as her tight vagina adjusted to his girth, using his finger to stimulate her throbbing clitoris until she was gasping hungrily for release.


    Nnooh! Stop! Barb protested. She couldn’t let this happen to her. Her body was being forced to respond despite the brutality of what was being done to her. She’d had a few well-hung lovers, but nothing like this. She suddenly realized what Mohomi had meant when he had said he would tame her. He had not been speaking of a brutal rape, even though that is what it was; he was referring instead to forcing her body to react sexually to his; to actually enjoy what he was doing to her. She moaned again, the sound clearly audible despite the gag, and Mohomi inserted his finger into her anus. It pushed her over the edge. She screamed into the gag; her body bucking as her loins convulsed.


    “And now lioness,” Mohomi said triumphantly as he released into her, “you are mine.”
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