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Chapter Twenty-Three

Mike leaned back in the beach chair and readjusted his sunglasses as a really stunning woman wearing barely a G-string walked by.


"What did we get, Patrick?" he asked. The beaches of the Adriatic had their good points. At the moment, he was fixated on two of them.


Getting across the border into Croatia had been relatively easy. There were dozens of small border crossings near Vinica and Ŏitluk that had lax security. Smuggling was endemic in the area and the few crossings that had guards were entirely revenue generators. They had been more than willing to take their usual cut for smuggling girls.


The coast of Croatia had numerous islands and beaches and was a destination spot for summer tourists from throughout Eastern Europe. A quick change of demeanor and the group were tourists, schoolkids taking in the sun along the Adriatic. They'd even been able to check into a decent hotel for once.


And all the Keldara girls had broken down and gotten swimsuits. For the cover of course. Most of them were far less daring than the lovely blonde, Czech or Slovak at a guess, who had just wandered by, but they were still an eyeful.


"They apparently did get full audio and video on their clients," Vanner said, tightly. "I only ... audited it. But it's pretty rough. The problem being, there are only five DVDs from the haul. And our girl isn't on any of them."


"That's good I suppose," Mike said.


"Yeah, but they're only recent DVDs," Vanner pointed out. "The rest were transported out to a town called Lunari."


"Crap," Mike said, picking up his sunscreen and wiping some on his chest. He'd picked up a hell of a farmer's tan over the winter and spring.


"But ..." Vanner said. "I'm not sure it matters. We got the rest of their records. They didn't keep electronic records, but the files were solid. And there's interesting news."


"Don't keep me waiting," Mike said, watching a couple of the Keldara girls splashing each other. He briefly considered joining them and then suppressed the idea.


"The thing is, all the girls that went to Rozaje didn't die," Vanner said. "We're having a hard time translating all the files since they're in fucking Albanian. I'm having to scan them in and OCR them then run them through a translator. You know how funky that can come out. But we're sure that some girls leave. Sometimes they had too many there. A client or clients wouldn't show up, whatever. They'd end up with too many girls from time to time and they'd ship out the excess."


"Don't tell me Natalya slipped through the cracks" Mike said, incredulously.


"That's the way it looks," the intel specialist replied, grinning. "She got transported to Lunari along with a bundle of DVDs."


"Shit," Mike said, sighing. "What do we have on Lunari?"


"It's not going to be fun," Vanner admitted. "It's the center for girl running, and drug running and gun running in Albania. Totally lawless. It's controlled by about six different clans or gangs; there's not much distinction. The government doesn't even try to control it. Landlocked but not far from the sea. From the intel I've managed to get, not much, it's also pretty carefully controlled. There are notes about elaborate security systems. And the gangs are heavily armed. There's some stuff in the files on it, too, but ... getting through all of them is going to take time. I could use some help on translation."


"Any idea where, exactly, the booty is?" Mike asked.


"Yep," Vanner said. "Natalya, and the DVDs, were sent to a particular brothel run by the Dejti gang."


"That's a familiar name," Mike mused.


"He was, apparently, one of the guys in tight with the clan," Vanner said. "That's going to be an issue. Long term, at least."


"Oh, I don't think so," Mike said, standing up. "I'm going swimming. Want to come?"


"In a minute," Vanner said, swallowing. "There's something else. We didn't get the DVDs, but we did get their client list and payment rendered for services, so to speak."


"And?" Mike asked, pausing.


"I ran a bunch of names through the internet," Vanner said, shaking his head. "It's not exactly a Who's Who, but there are a lot of ... well, rich people at least. And a few that are just powerful. Jesus, Kildar, this data is political dynamite!"


"I'd figured as much," Mike said, sighing.


"The former French commander of KFOR, for God's sake!" Vanner said.


"That explains the security," Mike said, dryly. "What about our friend the senator?"


"Senator Traskel isn't on it," Vanner said, tightly. "Neither is his son. But ... there is someone you've heard of...."


* * *

"Oh ... blast," the President said, looking at the message.


"There was just the one word, sir," Pierson replied. "But I think the meaning is clear."


"Senator Grantham!" the secretary of defense snarled. "Impossible! I've known him for ... decades!"


Senator Pat Grantham was the senior senator from South Carolina, a staunch supporter of the President, noted for his religious views and outspoken religious conservatism. A determined but honorable in-fighter in the Senate, losing him would be a nasty political blow to the President's agenda.


"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men," the national security advisor replied. "He was on the junket, too. I don't see how it changes things."


"Well, it's going to make our jobs harder," the chief of staff pointed out. "I'd be more than happy to see Traskel gone. Grantham, on the other hand ..."


"There is no 'other hand,' " the president said, definitely. "None. As with Senator Traskel, I'm going to wait on solid confirmation. But if we get it, Grantham will no longer be a senator. Period."


"The senator's from another party ..." the chief of staff pointed out.


"I don't care," the president snarled. "Not One Damned Bit. I doubt I can give him the justice that he so richly deserves. But he will no longer be a senator of the United States."


* * *

Mike was surprised at the extent to which the Keldara girls were willing to play a little grab-ass. He'd put it down to the "Kildar" effect, but they were playing with the militiamen as well. Hell, even Oksana was out there, playing in the very small waves. Mike hadn't tried any grab-ass with her, only to find the girl, along with some of the Keldara girls trying to tackle him. He'd let them dunk him and then swam through their legs, pulling them under and then pushing them back to the surface; very few of them were strong swimmers. They'd been amazed and alarmed at how long he could hold his breath.


The problem with the grab-ass was that it was getting him horny. And the Keldara girls were off-limits. So, for different reasons, were the girls they'd "picked up." He still wasn't sure what to do with them. Transferring them from sexual slavery to the harem, a different form of sexual slavery for all extents and purposes, didn't seem like a decent use of his time. Something would have to be done, but that was for another day.


With a certain amount of reluctance he finally climbed out of the water and wandered back to his beach chair. Which was occupied.


"You're ..." Mike said and then paused.


"Daria," the girl replied, getting up. She was about nineteen at a guess, one of the girls they'd recovered from Rozaje. Tall and statuesque, she had a great set of knockers and an air of naivete that had to be an act. "Sorry, was I in your chair ... Kildar?"


"Call me Mike," Mike said, waving for her to get back in the chair as he squatted down by it. "How are you doing?"


"The nightmares are less," the girl said quietly. "We knew what we were there for; the guards made sure to tell us. And we could hear some of it. Girls would leave and not come back. I was sick when I arrived and I wasn't presented."


"Good thing," Mike said. "I'm sure you would have been a first pick."


"Thank you so much," Daria replied, her face tight. "I thought the same. The doctor had just given me a clean bill of health. They told me I was going to be presented to the next ... customer."


"And now you're not," Mike said. "Be happy. Enjoy the sunshine knowing you're going to get to keep enjoying it."


"Am I?" Daria asked, pointedly.


"Uhmmm, yes," Mike responded. "Right now, I can't afford to let you leave. You're still, effectively, a prisoner. But you won't be raped or beaten and when this mission is done I'll drop you anywhere you care. Back home if that's what you want."


"Home," Daria said, quietly. "I don't know if I recognize the word. If you're talking about the Ukraine, there is nothing there for me."


"We'll figure something out," Mike said, picking up his sunglasses.


"Where do you live?" Daria asked. "In Georgia? But you are American."


"I've got reasons to live there," Mike said, shrugging.


"And you have a house there," the girl said, tilting her head to the side.


"And a harem." Mike shrugged. "I'm sure you've been talking to the Keldara girls."


"Is that where we will go?" she asked carefully.


"For a time," Mike said, shrugging again. "Until we figure out what else to do with you. I've got to figure something out; the caravanserai's going to fill up with women otherwise and then it'll be nag, nag, nag all day and night. 'Kildar, when will I have my turn? Kildar, can I have a new dress? Kildar, am I the prettiest?' " He grinned at the girl and was surprised to get a grin in return.


"I can tell you live with women," Daria said. "You have that look."


"Domesticated, that's me," Mike sighed. "Just a hopeless love slave to women's desire ..."


"And you get nothing?" Daria asked lightly.


"Oh, I suppose so," Mike said, grinning again. "But I try to give as good as I get."


"I get nothing," Daria said, shrugging. "I was virgin until ..."


"Get a good job in Western Europe?" Mike asked.


"Yes, but, I knew about the problems with that," Daria said, frowning. "The thing was, the person who ... sold me was my boyfriend!"


"Ouch," Mike said, shaking his head. "That's cold."


"He said that he knew someone who could get me a job in Belgium," Daria continued, looking out at the sea. "I am trained as secretary, yes? I can read and write in English, French and German. My boyfriend ... well, he is not great man. Has no job but ... I like him."


"I had a girlfriend one time. She said that she was a bum magnet," Mike said, nodding. "She wasn't, by the way, referring to me. But ... there are women who attract those sorts of guys like flies."


"That is me," Daria continued, her nose thinning in remembrance. "He is introduce me to another man who said he had contacts with business in Belgium ..."


"I'm sure he did," Mike said dryly.


"We meet ... three times before I agree to take job," Daria said, sighing. "He is having letterhead and letters of employment. But I have not the exit visa or entry visa, so Pasha ..."


"Pasha?" Mike said, crinkling his brow. "Ahmed Pasha?"


"That was his name, yes," Daria said. "And there was another man with him, Peter ..."


"Looked like Santa Claus?" Mike asked.


"Yes!" Daria said, turning to look at him.


"You need to talk to Oksana," Mike said, his jaw working. "So, you certainly didn't make it to Belgium."


"They took me over the border to Moldava," Daria said. "There ..."


"They raped you, beat you and took away your passport," Mike said. "So you couldn't leave without their aid. And sold you to the Albanians."


"Yes," Daria said, turning back to look at the ocean.


"Run into a guy named Dejti?" Mike asked.


"Yes," Daria replied, quietly.


"Well, he sleeps with the fishes."


Daria paused and frowned, then shrugged.


"That means nothing to me," she admitted.


"American slang," Mike replied. "It means I broke both his knees and then shot him through the head and dumped his body in a lake."


"Oh," Daria said, breathing out. "Oh."


"I doubt you ran into a man named Nicu ..."


"In Romania," Daria said, her face hard. "It was he who sent me to Rozaje." She paused and quirked an eyebrow. "Fishes?"


"Fishes."


"I am not sure how I feel about that," she admitted.


"That's because you're a nice girl," Mike replied. "And I am not a nice man."


"That I don't believe," Daria said, laughing breathlessly. "If you were not a nice man, we would have been left in the villa, still chained up, waiting for the next men to take us."


"Believe it," Mike said flatly. "Because I do nice things, does not mean I'm a nice man. The men who raped you, the men who beat you, simply do the things I would like to do. And occasionally do when a young lady likes that sort of thing. I'm not a nice man. A nice man would not beat another human being to death with a sledgehammer."


"Dejti?" Daria asked.


"Nicu's boss," Mike replied.


"Dejti poked my breast with needles," Daria said, softly. "And shocked me with electric cables. He hit me in the belly so hard I was peeing blood. He didn't leave any scars on the outside ..."


"But he left them on the inside," Mike said.


"Many." She paused again and then shrugged. "You know women who like this sort of thing?"


"My harem manager for one," Mike said, smiling faintly. "Anastasia used to ... belong to a shiek in Uzbekistan. She told me she was happy to come work for me, because he would not hit her hard enough. She likes to be whipped and hurt. Giving her what she wants, without causing scars, is hard."


"She is your harem manager?" Daria said, shaking her head. "I have a hard time thinking about that."


"They are girls that I picked up for various reasons," Mike replied. "I didn't know what to do with them, so I kept them as girlfriends, concubines really. They can leave any time, I even offer them a stake to get started. None of them took me up on it. When they get old enough to make it in the world, and educated enough, I'll kick them out the door. In the meantime I'm giving them an education and a chance for a real life."


"And they give you sex?" Daria said tightly.


"I don't force them," Mike said, shrugging. "Most of them were from small farms in the mountains. They considered it an honor, which surprised me. The thing they call me, Kildar, is a sort of nobleman in the area. But ... yes, they give me sex. You can say they pay their way that way, but I prefer to think of it as consensual. We all live with the lies we tell ourselves."


"Yes," Daria said, sitting back and sighing. "That we do."


"So what do you think I should do with these girls?" Mike asked. "I've got everything from Oksana, registered virgin and orphan with nowhere to go to ... you, I suppose. I assume you have somewhere to go back to?"


"If I could face it," Daria said. "My parents told me not to leave. They did not like my boyfriend."


"Looking them in the eye will be tough," Mike admitted. "But ... 'home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.' "


"And where is your home?" Daria asked.


Mike stopped and blinked. Home still meant the U.S. to him. His parents were dead; he hadn't talked to his sister in ... years.


"Thanks for asking," Mike said, frowning. "The answer is, I don't have one."


"You should have a home," Daria said, frowning in turn. "You are a good man, you should have a good home."


"I suppose it's with the Keldara," Mike replied, still frowning. "They are the closest thing to family I have. For years, home was the Navy, the Teams and BUD/S. I was married, but that came apart after I got out. Now ... I don't know."


"You should marry again," Daria said definitely.


"When I find the right girl, maybe," Mike replied. The sun was slowly descending to the west and the temperature was dropping steadily. He wasn't bothered by it, he'd gotten used to far worse on beaches all over the world, but the girls were getting out of the water and shivering. "Looks like time for dinner," he added, standing up.


Daria followed him as he headed back to the hotel and he turned to look at her, quirking an eyebrow.


"I was wondering ..." the girl said, then shrugged. "It is nothing."


"Tell you what," Mike said, quirking one cheek up. "Let's talk about it upstairs."


When they got to his room, Mike waved her to a chair and flopped on the bed, propping up some pillows behind him.


"One of the things we haven't done on this op is introduce a consistent rape counselling program," Mike said. "Or an abuse counselling program. Why? Because we're on a combat op and it's not important to the operation. And, frankly, we don't have any counselors. Maybe we should bring in some touchy-feely types to cover the bases, but we haven't. I haven't. Comments?"


"Why should you care?" Daria asked, shrugging one shoulder.


"If it's affecting the mission," Mike said. "We're stuck with you girls for the time being. If you're not functional, it affects the mission."


"We're functional," Daria said, angrily. "And you're not stuck with us."


"Yes, I am," Mike replied. "You're aware of who we are and what we're doing. If we just dropped you off on the street, the news would get around. Besides, as part of my not being a nice guy, but trying to act like one, I can't just drop you on a street corner. So I'm stuck with you. And if you're getting huffy about that and decide you're going to storm out, you'll discover we've got plenty of rigger tape."


"Rigger tape?" Daria asked, confused.


"Duct tape, then," Mike said, rolling over and pulling a roll out of his jump bag.


"We're still prisoners, then," Daria said.


"Yep," Mike replied. "Just like before. But we're not planning on killing you as part of sexual funs and games. Only real difference. Oh, and you're not going to get raped. And we'll try really hard not to raise a hand to you. But, yeah, you're still prisoners. It's just a more comfortable jail."


"Then why don't you rape me?" Daria said, breathing hard.


"Don't tempt me," Mike said. "Seriously. Don't. You're a real looker. And the reason is, I try to act like a nice guy."


"What if I told you I wanted you to?" Daria said, looking down at the floor and blushing. "What if I told you that as much as I hated what happened to me ... I liked it as well?"


"Then I'd tell you that I'm not a rape counsellor," Mike replied with a dismissive shrug. "I'd also tell you that you're not alone. Bum magnets tend to end up in abusive relationships. I would guess that your bum boyfriend occasionally slapped you around, right?"


"Yes," Daria said, looking up. "I should have stopped him, but ..."


"You loved him and he loved you," Mike finished for her, shrugging. "It ain't love, honey, it's abuse syndrome. Hell, it's being a submissive. Not necessarily sexually, but in general. You probably felt like you deserved it, that it was all your fault."


"Are you in my head?" Daria asked angrily. "Is this some sort of mind thing?"


"No, it's being old enough and experienced enough to have had the conversation before," Mike said, shrugging again. "You're hardly alone. Abuse like that happens all over, honey, even in the United States. You never had sex with your boyfriend?"


"No," Daria said, blushing again. "I drew the line there, even when he became angry. And he only hit me when he was drunk. One time he tried to ..."


"Rape you," Mike said.


"I was going to say force me," Daria replied. "It was not really rape—"


"Yeah, it is," Mike snapped. "Date rape is rape. Period fucking dot. So you drew the line there, now what?"


"Now ..." Daria said and stopped.


"You said that some of the abuse you enjoyed?" Mike asked calmly.


"I should not," Daria said, dropping her face in her hands. "I think I am a very bad person."


"Item number sixty-two of the checklist," Mike said, chuckling.


"What is so funny?" Daria snapped, glaring at him.


"You were brought up to be a very good girl," Mike said, still smiling. "To not have sex until you are married. But you feel the want of it?"


"Yes," Daria admitted. "Very much."


"I won't ask if that's an 'especially now' answer," Mike said. "But the point is, if you're forced ,then it's not your fault. If a man makes you do it, you are not so bad a person. It is one of the reasons that you want to be forced, to be made to have sex. Yes?"


"I ... hadn't thought of it that way," Daria admitted.


"If you are tied, how can it be your fault?" Mike asked. "But if you still like it, that still makes you a bad person inside. So you want to be hurt for being a bad girl. Am I close?"


"Yes," Daria answered quietly.


"All right," Mike said, shrugging. "Let's talk about that. Part of it might be because of the rape. But ... did you ever think that way before the rape? I mean, did you fantasize about things like that when you masturbated?"


"That's a very personal question!" Daria snapped.


"This is a personal conversation," Mike replied. "The question is, did these feelings come about as a result of the rape, or did you have them before?"


"Some of them ..." Daria said, softly. "Some of them before."


"There are books and books written about what you're feeling," Mike said. "The term is sexual submission. Lucky for me, I tend to run into them a lot since I'm a sexual dominant. Opposites attract and all that. The point is, you're not bad for feeling that way. It's a normal, hell probably a majority, feeling in women. It's even a desire in some men. So the first thing to get into your noggin is that you're not evil for feeling that way."


"It feels ... wrong," Daria said. "Bad."


"And some women enjoy being told how bad they are," Mike said. "That's all fine and dandy, as long as it's really a consensual thing between two rational adults. Or more, sometimes. The point is, it's okay to feel that way, okay to play out those fantasies. As long as you know where to draw the line. The term is 'the bedroom door.' As long as your fantasies are play, whether it's in a bedroom or a living room or the kitchen, the whole house or on a mountainside, as long as the play ends at an agreed upon point, it's just fun."


"Fun," Daria snorted. "I want ... I want to be told I'm bad."


"And as long as that's in the bedroom, metaphorically, that's all fine and good," Mike replied. "Daria, look at me."


He waited until the girl looked up and met his eyes.


"You're a good girl, a fine woman," Mike said, holding her eyes with his. "You just have the need to be told otherwise. Do you want to be spanked? To be abused?"


"Yes," she admitted, still looking him in the eye.


"But you don't want that to be your life, right?" Mike said. "Tied up and hit, carefully, and told you're a bad girl in bed, sure. But not hit in the face because supper's late."


"No," Daria said, shocked. "I mean, yes, the first but not the second."


"You're a sexual sub," Mike said, shrugging and leaning back. "My favorite kind of girl. But the point is, at the end of the play you go back to being your own person. Owning yourself. Loving yourself and knowing that you are not a bad person. If you can't do that, you're never going to be the person you can be."


"But now I feel as if I really need it," Daria practically wailed. "I want it all the time—"


"Item twenty something on the post-rape checklist," Mike said. "Nymphomania. The female in the situation shifts to desiring sex. If it's going to happen, anyway, they might as well learn to enjoy it. A lot. And do it. A lot. Even when they aren't forced to."


"You're saying I'm sick?" Daria asked carefully. "Nymphomania is being sick."


"Not really," Mike replied, shrugging. "You're just having a standard reaction to your form of trauma. Sorry if it makes you feel less special. Not sorry if it makes you feel less bad. Because you're not. You're a fine young lady. You've just been through a traumatic experience and you're reacting to it in fairly well recognized ways."


"So what do I do about it?" Daria asked, sitting up.


"That's where my knowledge sort of breaks down," Mike admitted. "The thing about rape, especially when it happens to a person with little or no experience of sex, is that it changes the wiring for what is positive and negative sexual experiences. You can't really know what your sexual interests, your needs, are. Look, my ex-wife did some rape counselling. Most of the stuff I know comes from her and girlfriends who have been abused. I'm not an expert. Okay?"


"Okay," Daria said, carefully. "But you're as close as I can get right now."


"Right," Mike admitted. "Especially since you're still, effectively, a prisoner. Even if I went out and found a counselor, he or she would be sucked into the same void. So I'll just tell you what I know. The thing about rape is that it sort of changes the wiring. There was a boy that my wife counselled. He'd been homosexually raped when he was thirteen or so. And he'd been homosexually oriented ever since. So he was in his mid-twenties or so and all of a sudden he starts getting interested in girls. He's not sure what's happening, so he goes back into counselling. Turned out, he wasn't really homosexual at all. His orientation was as a result of the rape, period. So right now, it would be hard to tell what your real orientation is."


"So what do I do?" Daria asked. "What do I do about the ... the nightmares? About the feelings?"


"Well, one thing is you talk about them," Mike said. "This is a good start. And if you're fixated on certain kinds of sex, try them. You're not a virgin anymore. If you want to have sex, have sex. Over time, your real orientation will probably, I dunno, realign? Talk to some of the other girls about the feelings they have, the nightmares they're having. Talking about it hurts when you do it, but it will help."


"I'll tell you one nightmare," Daria said. "It's that this is all an elaborate joke to break us down again. That we're going to go right back into being whores. That's not even a nightmare; it's something I worry about all the time."


Mike opened his mouth to reply and then paused.


"You know, there's an aspect of this I hadn't considered," he admitted. "If we bungle one of the upcoming ops, you might just end up that way. Back in slavery, that is. Hell, the Keldara women would. Although I think the rest of the militia would turn up pretty quick with Nielson leading them. I probably ought to figure out a way to get you all back to Georgia. You'd be safer there. Not safe, exactly, but safer."


"To be part of your harem?" Daria asked bitterly.


"Like I said, I'm not sure what to do with you," Mike replied.


"Can I just go home?" the girl asked softly.


"Not until the op is over," Mike said. "You understand why."


"Understand, yes," Daria said. "Happy about, no."


"Not much I can do about your happiness," Mike replied with a shrug.


"You can do one thing," Daria said.


"And that is?"


"I need ..." She paused and looked at the floor. "I want ..."


"You know that this is probably just your reaction to what you went through, right?" Mike asked.


"Yes," she admitted. "That doesn't relieve the need."


Mike cocked his head to the side and really looked at her for a moment.


"Daria?"


"Yes?" she asked, looking up.


"Take your clothes off."


"What?" the girl asked.


"I'm going to relieve both our needs," Mike replied, standing up and walking over to her. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but it's the best one I can come up with right now. The bedroom door is, metaphorically and really, shut. You can choose to not play the game if you wish."


"I choose ..." Daria said then paused. "I think I choose to play."


"Fine," Mike said, walking over to one of the other chairs and sitting down. "Then stand up and take off all of your clothes."


The girl looked at him for a moment and then stood up and started to slowly undress. She started off looking at him but when she started to slip her dress off she had to look away.


When she started to sit down and remove her shoes, Mike waved at her to stop.


"Keep the shoes on," Mike said gruffly. "I like high heels. Here is the deal. You've been an actual sex-slave. Some of the play is based around that sort of situation. Are you going to be able to take that?"


"Yes," Daria said, softly, still looking at the floor. "As long as I'm sure it's play."


"Are you?" Mike asked.


"Yes," Daria admitted. "I trust you. I don't know why I do, but I do."


"It might have something to do with my rescuing you from durance vile," Mike told the naked girl. "Or my winning smile. But we're going to have to establish the parameters. That is, we're going to have to find out what I can and cannot do. And you're going to have to know how to end the play. Are you listening?"


"Yes," Daria replied. "Can I put my clothes back on?"


"Not unless you want the play to end," Mike said. "Do you?"


"Not yet," Daria admitted. "I am very confused. I want to do this, but I am frightened. I was stripped like this to be sold to Ahmed Pasha. It was very humiliating. This is very humiliating. But ..."


"You like it," Mike said.


"Yes."


"Go over to the bed and get a pillow," Mike ordered. "Put it on the floor and kneel on it. There," he added, pointing to a spot a few feet away from his chair. "Keep your head down when you are kneeling. You will only look at me when I order you to do so. The response to that is 'Yes, master.' "


"Yes ..." Daria said, pausing with a catch in her voice. "Yes, master."


When the girl was kneeling, Mike leaned forward.


"From now until the end of play, you are my slave," Mike said. "I will order you to do things, I will force you to do things. You will obey my orders. Do you agree to this?"


"Yes, master," Daria said, her head bent in submission.


"Before we begin, we have to know what you will accept and what is not acceptable," Mike said. "Is there anything that you will not accept? Answer truthfully."


"I don't want to be hit in the face," Daria replied, shivering. "And I don't want to be burned."


"I will not hit you in the face," Mike replied. "What about anal sex?"


"I don't like it," Daria admitted. "But ..."


"It's humiliating?" Mike asked.


"Yes," the girl answered, softly.


"And you like to be humiliated," Mike said. "You like to be shown what a bad girl you are."


"Yes," Daria said, her face working against the tears.


"Time out," Mike said, sitting up. "When I say that, we're out of play and it's time to talk. How are you feeling?"


"Strange," Daria admitted. "Very weird. Like I'm not really here."


"Detached?" Mike asked. "Floating? Almost like you're not in your body?"


"Yes."


"A normal reaction," Mike said. "Do you like it?"


"Yes," Daria admitted.


"Am I causing bad flashbacks?"


"No," she said, blinking. "Strippping sort of did. But this ... no."


"Okay, we'll continue," Mike said. "If at any time, you have to stop, you can say 'time out' or 'yellow' or any odd word. But if you say 'no,' or 'stop,' or 'please' or anything else along the lines, it means 'You're doing great, do it harder and meaner.' Understood?"


"Yes," Daria said, half laughing.


It was the first time Mike had heard her so much as chuckle and he took it as a good sign.


"What are you laughing about, slave?" Mike snapped. "Drop your eyes to the floor where they belong!" He stood up and walked over to her, circling her predatorially.


"You have been a very bad girl, Daria. You defied your parents, had sex out of wedlock and admitted that you enjoyed it. You are a bad girl and you must be punished."


"Yes, master," Daria said softly.


Mike dipped into a bag and came out with a couple of lengths of soft rope and a cloth. He tied her hands and ankles and looped the two ropes together to hogtie her on her knees then blindfolded her with the cloth. He carefully pulled most of her long, blonde hair out from under the blindfold and then grabbed it, hard, pulling her head back and making her gasp in pain.


"You've been a bad girl, little bitch," Mike rasped. "And you're going to be punished for it." He slipped his bathing suit off and slapped her on the face with his cock. "Say 'I'm a bad girl.' "


"I'm a bad girl," the girl sobbed.


"Whatever punishment my master gives me, I deserve," he said, slapping her on the face again.


"Whatever punishment my master gives me, I deserve."


"Take it in your mouth, bitch," Mike said, shoving his dick in her mouth. "Suck it like I know you do. Suck it hard or you'll be punished."


He wasn't sure if it was natural talent or the training she'd gotten since being kidnapped, but Daria truly knew how to give a blowjob. She could have sucked a golf ball through forty feet of steel hose. He felt like his dick was being hickeyed. She might be the best blower he'd ever had, which was saying something. He hadn't planned on blowing a load in her mouth, but the blowjob was too good to pass up. When he felt himself starting to orgasm, he blew most of it in her mouth, then pulled out and pumped the rest onto her face and gorgeous tits. And she swallowed automatically after barely a choke. Damn she was good.


"Slutty little bitch," he growled into her ear, rubbing the cum onto her face and breasts. "You're nothing but a slut, a little bad girl. Say you're a slut."


"I'm a slut," Daria whispered, shaking her head as if to try to throw off the cum.


"I'm going to show you what sort of slut you are, bitch," Mike whispered. He grabbed her by the hair with one hand and wrapped an arm around her body, lifting her bodily and throwing her onto the bed. "Bad girls get beaten."


"Please don't beat me, master," the girl whined. "I'll be good."


"I'll teach you to be good," Mike said, pulling his belt off his trousers. He untied her wrists, then retied them to the front, stretched them over her head and rolled her onto her stomach. "You're a bad girl and you need to be spanked."


"Please ..." Daria whined. "Please don't ..."


Mike pinned her hands over her head, wrapped a leg onto her body to hold her in place and began whipping her on her gorgeous ass. He wasn't using full strength by any stretch of the imagination, since he wasn't sure what she could actually stand.


Daria bit into the cloth of the bedcover, whining and trying not to scream.


After a while Mike stopped and lifted her head up by her hair.


"Have you had enough, bitch?" he growled.


"Master," Daria gasped. "Please, I've been very bad ..."


Mike twitched an eyebrow up and forced her head back down into the bedcovers. This time, he parked higher, pinning her arms with his leg and began whipping not only her ass but her back as well, carefully keeping clear of the kidney region. He also hit harder.


She began shuddering and sweating from the pain, moaning into the bed and occasionally screaming. But if she really wanted him to stop, all she had to do was spit out the bedcover so Mike kept at it.


It was at times like this that he considered the fact that in a "scene," the sub was actually in charge. Here he was doing all the work and she was getting exactly what she wanted without having to do anything but take the pain, which she actively enjoyed. It was an odd dichotomy and he found that he suddenly wasn't as into it as he usually would be. Part of that was keeping one eye on the fact that the girl had been recently traumatized. He wasn't sure if what he was doing was helping or reinforcing the trauma. But Daria, like Anastasia, seemed to be one of those girls who just soaked up pain and turned it into pure pleasure. It was almost disheartening. He really enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering; having someone absolutely and totally enjoy it was a let down.


He suddenly realized that he'd completely lost his erection. That's what came of philosophizing in the middle of a scene.


Mike shifted again and grabbed her hair, turning her face towards his crotch.


"Lick it, bitch," he growled. "Lick it and suck it like the little slut you are."


She took it in her mouth and began expertly sucking it again, which got him back to a world-class erection in no time.


"You're a little fucking slut," Mike snarled, dipping into a bag and pulling out a condom. "You're worth less than the price of dog turds. You're worth nothing." He pinned her down and spread her ass, shoving his dick into it, hard, as she moaned in pain.


"You're a useless little slut," Mike growled in her ear, clamping one hand over her mouth and wrapping the other around her throat. "You think I'm a nice guy, I'm not. I'm an evil, raping, bastard, just like the evil raping bastards that kidnapped you. And I like to rape my little bitches and then kill them. And that's what I'm going to do to you, bitch. I'm going to rape you in the ass and strangle you at the same time. Nobody will care about a little bitch like you, anyway."


He knew he had her now, since she was struggling against the bonds. But he had her pinned flat with his weight and she wasn't getting away from either hand. He kept talking to her, threatening her and abusing her as he kept one hand clamped over her mouth and the other applying light pressure to her windpipe. He pumped hard on her gorgeous ass for a few minutes and finally came.


"Are you all right?" he asked, withdrawing both hands and easing out of her ass.


"You really scared me," she said, breathing hard. "I wasn't sure ..."


"It's called edge play," Mike replied. "Creating a condition of doubt in the mind of the sub. You weren't sure if I was serious or not."


"Yes!"


"I wasn't," Mike said, rolling over and undoing her hands. "Seriously."


"It was scary," Daria admitted, sitting up and untying her ankles. "But I liked it. I was sure enough that you weren't going to do it that I wasn't panicking, but ..."


"Well, let's try something else," Mike said, standing up and walking to the bathroom.


"You mean you're not done?" Daria asked, surprised.


"Oh, hell no," Mike said. "Be right back."


He came back with a hot wash cloth and gently wiped the cum from her face and breasts.


"You're gentle," she said, lying back and sighing, then gasping a bit as she hit a sore spot.


"How's the back?" Mike asked, caressing her breasts a bit more than was strictly necessary.


"Sore," she admitted. "But not as sore as my ass. You hit me very well."


"Thanks," Mike replied, sliding the washcloth down her stomach and taking one of her nipples in his mouth.


"Oh, that feels good," Daria said sighing.


"Should," he replied, blowing on it lightly to get it to stand up. "You have a gorgeous body, did you know that?"


"It is okay," Daria said, shrugging.


"It's absolutely exquisite," Mike replied, lowering himself on the nipple again. He'd eased the washcloth down her stomach and now slid it between her legs, giving the area a thorough cleaning. He wiped the outsid,e then slid his finger, encased in the rough cloth, into her vagina.


"Oh," Daria sighed. "Oh ... god ..."


"You like it rough, huh?" Mike chuckled, biting on her nipple lightly. "I'll give you rough ..."


He rolled onto her and pinned her legs open, biting on her shoulder and thrusting his fingers into her vagina repeatedly. She began panting and sighing so Mike kept at it, thrusting with his fingers and biting her on her neck, shoulder and chest, appearing to lose control as she bucked under him and moaned. Finally, as she appeared to be nearing climax, he slid another condom onto his dick and thrust into her.


She settled a bit at first but the continuous hard thrusts warmed her back up as he growled in her ear and continued to pinch, bite and twist her nipples roughly. He pulled her legs up and grabbed her sore ass, eliciting a half scream of pain. Finally, she panted and moaned her way into a screaming climax that had him clamping his hand over her mouth to save his ears as much as for decorum. Hell, Sawn was in the next room and it was going to be obvious that the Kildar was up to his old tricks.


The girl didn't seem to be a multiclimax type, so he slowed just enough to let her get her wind back and then drove in, hard, getting his third orgasm of the encounter. It had to be the tits.


"That was ..." she whispered, then moaned as he carefully withdrew.


"Decent?" Mike asked, cleaning up and then pulling her in to cuddle on his shoulder.


"Very nice," Daria whispered. "I did not think it could be that way."


"Welcome to the real world," Mike said, yawning. "I'm for a nap, how 'bout you?"


"I think I could use a nap as well," Daria admitted. "Can I sleep here?"


"Just try to leave," Mike said, curling into her.


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