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	Diane opened her eyes, raised her head slightly and looked around
the room.
	"She's awake!" someone called out with a laugh.  
	Fear clutched her - she'd hoped she could survey the room once 
without them noticing she was awake.  As near as she could tell, she'd 
passed out for the third time, but who was counting?
	Michael put his toe underneath her cheek and nudged her.  
Already sensing her imminent defeat, she rolled over.
	"Someone get a washrag, she looks awful like this," he said to 
no one in particular.  She felt another wave of humiliation sweep over 
her - she must look awful.  She felt the nearly-dry film on her face 
and hair, tried to open her mouth and felt her lips stuck together with  
dried cum.
	"Position three," he said matter-of-factly. She rolled onto her 
back, pulled her feet up just under her ass, and spread her knees wide.  
The goal of "position three" was to have both knees touching the floor.  
She never quite made it, but she was getting closer.
	"Someone help her," he ordered.  Immediately two of the 
students set down their beer bottles and knelt on the floor beside her.  
She watched with fear as they went to their task.  Each took a knee, 
pressed it toward the floor, gently at first, then rougher as her tight 
muscles resisted.
	"Please, just give me a little slack here!"
	"Oh, Diane, you knew this was coming for months.  For months, I 
send you email, telling you to stretch, get flexible, do yoga, whatever 
it took.  Don't talk to me about going easy on you."
	She arched her back, hoping that would give a little relief to 
her hamstrings and leg muscles.  Someone returned with a washrag and 
she felt the warm water on her face.  Michael was leaning over, gently 
washing her eyes, cheeks and mouth.
	"We'll leave the cum to dry in your hair and ears, you're just 
going to get dirty again anyway," he said with a grin.  He stood up.  
"So which of you guys knows this town well?"
	Several of them laughed and said they did.
	"You know we're only in town for 2 more days, so we want to 
make them memorable.  Then, the show goes back on the road.  I've had 
Bill working on lining up the next stop, Diane, maybe you'll be 
interested.  There's a group of about a dozen cyberdoms up in Denver 
who want to have their chance at you.  Like I said, I think that as 
long as we don't go near your home town or mine, we can keep this up 
forever!"
	She fought back her tears as she listened to him discuss plans 
with Bill.  Bill was the van driver who'd been shuttling the two of 
them around the country for the last three months.  He'd equipped it 
with all the latest telecom gear.  Michael spent most of his time 
pimping her and Bill spent most of his time lining up new 'engagements' 
for them using his internet connections.
	Bill lurked around the channels as 'perveyer' - a combination 
of 'pervert' and 'purveyor'.  He'd organize groups of anywhere from 
three to ten who were interested in her.  They would pay Michael and 
he'd provide them with several days use of her body.
	It had started as cybersex.  He was hot, she was curious, and 
the chemistry was right.  After six months or so, they finally met face 
to face while he was on a business trip.  Now, she knew that there had 
been no trip at all, just a matter of timing.  He'd had to bring her 
along far enough, had to know enough about her, had to time the 
kidnapping just right. 
	And he had.  There hadn't been any trace of anyone looking for 
them, he seemed to have pulled off a perfect crime.  He'd talked her 
into his van for some passionate kissing and touchy-feely.  The next 
thing she knew, there was a driver in the front seat and the van was 
rolling.  Letters sent to her employer, roommate, and family told about 
a need to 'get away for a while' by herself.  The letter to the 
roommate contained 6 months advance rent, the excuse to her employer 
for quitting abruptly had been based on an incident she'd told Michael 
about months earlier - no one would doubt she'd leave after such an 
advance from a superior.  There seemed to be no trace.  It was perfect.
	Perfect for him.  Hell for her.  Unless something drastic 
happened, she would spend the rest of her life as a sex slave filling 
her own life with horrible memories while she filled his pockets with 
cash.
	"Let's whip her again - I loved the look on her face just 
before she passed out last time!"
	"You asshole, cut the shit.  Leave her alone for a few 
minutes," one of the others said.  He walked across the room and stood 
stradding her face.  He was dressed only in his t-shirt and socks, like 
several of them.  "Maybe if we let her recover a bit, she'll fuck us 
all again!  Isn't that right, you slut?"
	He crouched down, rubbing his balls against her nose and upper 
lip.  She smelled both his crotch and his asshole.  She wanted to gag.  
He ground his ass in slow circles.
	"Let's feel that tongue," he demanded.  Repulsed but helpless, 
she parted her lips tentatively, let the tip of her tongue slide out.  
She tried to focus on his balls, but wherever her tongue went, he'd 
navigate himself so she was licking his asshole.  She knew Michael 
always made them wash before the 'festivities' started, but the idea 
still repulsed her.  He was certainly clean of anything she could get 
sick on, but still, after the last 3 hours of fucking, there was a lot 
of sweat and male-smell to contend with.  She also smelled her own 
juices, dried at the base of his cock.
	He was moaning slightly, she saw his hand rubbing his cock.  
She reached for it instinctively and he let her take the head in her 
hand.  Her fingers cupped the head, her other hand made a ring and slid 
up and down the shaft.  Soon, he was fucking her hand, yelling out to 
his friends "Oh, shit, yeah!"
	When he started to cum, he leaned forward and took his cock 
back in his own hand.  He pumped it wildly, making sure the jism landed 
squarely on her forehead and dripped up to her hairline.
	
	"Damn that was nice.  Who's next?" he asked as he stood up.
	"I want my fist up that pussy, you promised you'd let me do 
that!" one of the men whined.
	"I didn't promise, you asshole," another one answered him.  "I 
said 'we'll see'."
	"Well, what's to see?  This bitch's do anything we want."
	"All right, you punks, listen up!" It was Michael. He and Bill 
had finished their session and he looked at her intently.
	"I have one more stop to make before we leave town tomorrow and 
you're all invited."
	"Oh yeah?" one of them asked.  "What if we don't want to go?  
Maybe we'd rather stay here and fuck."
	"Oh, I doubt it.  Isn't it part of every young boy's dream to 
watch a girl get passed around at a biker bar?"
	Her stomach dropped five feet.  There were few things she 
dreaded but that was one.  She remembered stories she'd heard as a girl 
about the Hells Angels parties and the kinds of initiations their women 
had to go through.  Dozens of visions filled her head.
	Gang bangs were the mildest.  Pool cues up her cunt.  Burning 
off cunt hair.  Beer bottles, hot dogs, screwdriver and hammer handles, 
riding on someone's lap on the bike, their cock up her cunt, feeling 
each bump and accelleration, thrown in the mud with pigs, fucking and 
sucking dogs and donkeys.  Competition between biker girls for who 
could shove the most BenWa or golf balls up insider her cunt.  Nipples 
snipped off so they wouldn't chafe against the leather vests.
	How much was fiction? None could be fact - could it?
	Even if it wasn't, they'd almost certainly be more cruel with a 
slut stranger than with one of their own biker women.  She'd seen those 
women around.  They looked hard and used.  What would she look like 
when they were done?
	She thought of begging him to change his mind, but what could 
she possibly offer than he didn't already have?  No, that wouldn't 
work.
	
	She looked around, they were all looking at Michael.  She 
bolted to her feet and ran for the door.  It was hopeless and she knew 
it, but she had to try.
	One of the college boys intercepted her before she even got 
down the small hallway.  He tackled her hard, dropped her to the floor.  
She felt - or rather heard - something snap and then it all went black.
----
	Diane woke on a dirty matress on a dirty floor in a dirty room.  
She took inventory of her muscles and realized that the snap she'd 
heard must have just been an arm of a leg banging against the wall in 
the hallway.
	The light was dim but she could make out enough of the room to 
know she was in either a cellar or a pantry.  There were boxes stacked 
everywhere, brooms and mops, piles of clothes.  The room smelled 
slightly, body odor, cleaning fluid, possibly rancid food.
	She heard something beside her.  Her eyes adjusted to the dark 
enough for her to make out another figure, lying on the floor a few 
feet away.
	"Hey," a woman's voice whispered.  "You awake?"
	
	Diane wasn't sure whether she should answer. this could be 
anything from one of his mind games to a chance for escape.
	"Yeah," she finally whispered.
	The figure reached out an arm.  She raised her head and Diane 
could see her tear streaked face.  "Oh, please, you've got to get me 
out of her!  You wouldn't believe what they've done!"
	Diane was scared - was this a plant, or another woman in the 
same situation as her?
	"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going to be much help.  I don't 
even know where..."
	"I see we're awake!" a voice boomed into the dim room. She 
didn't recognize it, but the other woman must have.  She screamed at 
it.
	"Let me out of here, you bastards!  I want you...ARGG!" she 
screamed and was suddently silent.
	"Are you OK?" Diane whispered.
	"I'll...don't let them put one of these..."  the woman passed 
out before she could finish her sentence.
	The lights came up bright and harsh.  Diane squinted.  In a few 
seconds, here eyes adjusted to the light.  She looked down at her 
companion.  The woman was dressed in a leather harness that covered 
most of her torso.  It started with stiff leather around her neck, with 
more supple leather running down both arms to just below the elbows.  
There were cutouts for the breasts.  Around her midsection, there was 
an arrangement of zippers and buckles.  Her waist was compressed to 
what looked like 20 or less inches.  The harness quit at the waist, 
with two leather bands that ran down between her legs.  
	The woman was lying on her back, her legs had fallen open.  	
Diane could see that there as something held in place inside her cunt 
by another buckle in the leather strap as it passed between her legs.
	Her legs were naked.  Diane saw that there were white and red 
stripes - welts and marks from prior whippings - covering the front, 
back, and insides of her thighs from just above the knees right to the 
crotch.  She's been whipped often and well.  She couldn't take her eyes 
off the young woman's body - she saw her future there.
	Her breasts had been beaten too, Diane saw the stripes and 
marks there as well.  She wasn't sure if it was natural or not, but the 
nipples were nearly an inch and a half long, the surrounding brown 
nearly 3 inches across.  She imagined what might have been done to the 
woman's body to cause such changes and shuddered.
	
	Looking further, she saw that the woman was bald except for a 
single pony tail about twelve inches long starting at the base of her 
skull.  The words "SEX SLAVE" was written across her forehead in blue 
ink.  A tattoo?  A permanent one or something that was part of the 
game?  There was something below it.
	Diane leaned closer and read "my body is used for your wildest 
fantasies" there just above the eyebrow line.
	"Wake her up," the voice demanded.  "Kiss her cunt and wake her 
up."
	Diane looked around.  There was a window - obviously one way 
glass.  Someone was watching.  Michael must be there.  Isn't he?  He 
wouldn't have given her to them - that never seemed to be part of his 
deal.
	"Do it."
	She didn't know what to expect, what she was up against, who 
these people were, so she proceeded.  She put her had between the 
woman's legs and started licking her cunt. 
	"Ptew!" she jerked her head back and spit.  Her tongue burned - 
it was like biting into a hot pepper.
	"You stupid bitch, did we tell you to stop?"
	"No, but..."
	"Beat her."
	"No, wait, I'll..."
	The lights went out and the room went black.  She heard a door 
open and footsteps approach.  With no warning, she felt something whip 
across her shoulder and neck.  Then another across her ass, then her 
breasts.  She raised her hands to protect her face.  They were hitting 
at random, maybe they couldn't see any better than she could.
	She screamed and cried out as the whips (belts? cat?) bit into 
her flesh in a dozen different places.  Someone picked her up and she 
felt someone else holding her legs open.  Then, her pussy and thighs 
were being whipped.  Twice, three, four, ten, twenty times.  She 
screamed and felt herself slipping away.
--------
	Diane woke standing.  
	More precisely, she was in a vertical position when she woke 
up.  She couldn't open her eyes, there was something covering them.  
She felt a large ball gag in her mouth, tied tightly around the back of 
her head.
	She tried moving parts of her body and determined that she was 
secured to a wooden structure of some sort in a crucifixion position.  
Arms were out, restrained at the wrist, elbow, and shoulder.  She felt 
ropes or leather around her breasts, secured to whatever her back was 
leaning against.  Her midsection was exposed and untied - that worried 
her again.  They would obviously be using that area for something.
	Her feet were secured to some kind of platform.  Her knees were 
parted and secured to another cross piece of some kind.  She recognized 
this position - it was 'position three' Michael had been working on 
her.  She knew that this opened her up and exposed her private area 
completely.  Any sense of shame or humiliation would have been just a 
waste of time - this was complete and utter exposure and total 
helplessness.
	She was uncomfortable, especially her shoulders and back.  She 
found that she could push herself up slightly on her feet, even with 
her knees open, and that relieved the pressure.  But she was sure she 
couldn't stay like that for long.
	"Ah, you discovered it," another stranger's voice said.
	She shook her head gently from side to side.  He couldn't have 
been expecting an answer.
	Footsteps across a hard floor approached her.  She smelled 
something, oil? grease? 
	"You're in our shop.  We work on our bikes here."
	Someone started up a motor.  The loud noise hurt her ears, hurt 
even more when he revved the engine.
	"We like something to look at, something more than a calendar, 
you know?"  She heard several voices laughing, at least one was a 
woman's.
	They were quite for a while, she wondered whether they were 
looking.  No, why would they be?  This was probably common.  Or was it?
	A million thoughts raced through her head, then a million 
others.  All of them followed by the realization that she could not 
know.  There might be a dozen eyes on her or none.  There might be guys 
fucking their girls, laughing to themselves, the girls relieved that it 
wasn't them.  This time.
	She noticed the pain in her shoulders again and pushed herself 
up on her feet.  The pain subsided.  And she could breath easier.  That 
thought made her panic.  She remembered back to what she'd read about 
Roman crucifixion.  It was a slow and painful way to die, often taking 
days.  The victim suffocated - unable to continue standing erect to 
breathe, eventuallly, the legs gave out, then the lungs couldn't take 
in any more air and that was that.
	Diane started panicking.  That couldn't be part of his plan.  
There was never any indication he had that kind of streak in him. But 
she didn't know.  Couldn't.  She never expected he'd kidnap her either.
	Fanstasies.  Vagrant stories about snuff films - about sex 
slave rings - about shieks who treated human beings like toys - about 
underground slave networks.  Her beathing began to race.
	"Diane?"  
	It was Michael's voice.
	"I noticed you were getting agitated.  Don't.  Relax, 
everything is under control.  They only want you for a day or two.  
Then, we're off."
	A day or two, she thought.  Could she last?  She felt his lips 
kissing her pussy, then her thighs.  She lost herself in a fantasy of 
their fucking the first few days on the road.  Felt herself getting wet 
despite her predicament.  He slid a finger into her body, she moved 
around, squirming on it.  His tongue worked the lips of her cunt, then 
down to the swelling bud.  She started to feel the excitement build.  
He was going deeper, his tongue making the moves he knew she loved.
	She started moving her hips in time to his hand.  Then, she 
heard several snickers, and then a full blown laugh.  There must have 
been ten or more of them and they started cheering her on.
	"YEah, we knew you had it in you!"
	"Come on, hot pussy babe!"
	"Get yourself worked up for me!"
	Tears streamed down her face, but she continued.  No reason not 
to, there was nothing he was going to let her hide, she might as well 
minimize resistance.
	As her body squirmed and her pulse raced, she felt something 
invade her ass.  It was long and thin, she recognized it immediately.  
She felt the warm water filling her up and started sobbing now, 
uncontrollable.  She abanadoned all parts of her body to them, knew 
she'd cum on his hand, knew she'd expel the water, knew they'd see, 
knew they'd take her down and fuck her, knew they'd photograph her and 
sell the pictures, scan them and post them, tell the stories to their 
friends, and as she travelled around the country with Michael, they'd 
pass the word to their friends in the next town and the next town.  
	Her complete breakdown and rebuilding as a sex slave would be 
complete - nothing would be left to hide, no shred of her original self 
left, only identification as a pussy made to serve him.
	She felt the orgasm build as they chanted, as he licked, as the 
warm fluids started trickling down the inside of her body, toward the 
anus which would not be able to stop it from flowing out.  
	Another nozzle as slid up into her cunt, her pussy was filled 
with something warm as well.  She recognized a stinging sensation.  
They were using salt water in both of her holes. It didn't hurt, but it 
stung.  Enough to make squirm in an even more obscene way as he 
continued to lick her clit.
	
	Finally, the orgasm came and along with it, a flood of water 
from both of her holes.  She heard it all being expelled, splashing on 
the concrete floor, heard the sounds her body made as the last pockets 
of air were flushed out of her, heard the laughs and cheers of her 
audience all just before she passed out again.
---end of day 1


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