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There have been several requests for re-post of these.

THE STARLET SLAVE 6
Joy Paine
Index words:   strip s#


With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional
resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like
to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which
one -- after all, your tastes may be different.


6. The Examination

Peck felt my tits again as soon as he got me into his office -- both
hands, this time -- and then he told me to sit down. His voice really
oozed as he pointed out that he didn't want to ruin my life by turning
me in to the police -- a stigma like that could follow me to my grave,
and he didn't want to bear the responsibility of destroying a fragile
flower like me. And just think what the shock would do to my mother. She
had suffered a severe heart attack last year when Dad was killed in that
traffic accident, and a blow like this might finish her off for good.

But, he went on, he couldn't let me off without any punishment at all --
that would be bad for my character -- and disastrous for his business if
word got around. And he went on to tell me how hard it was to get the
right kind of help these days, and maybe I'd be willing to work for him
as a sort of penance? I assumed that he wanted me to work in the store --
shows how naive I was in those days.

Well, the idea of being cooped up in the store, with his eyes -- and
hands, I was sure -- all over me just about turned my stomach, but I
would have agreed to just about anything to keep him from calling the
cops. So he said OK, it was all agreed, but he'd have to have some kind
of guarantee that I would keep my word. So would I sign this confession,
like a good girl?

It didn't occur to me at the time how fishy it all was -- his having the
confession all ready and typed up and all -- but it wouldn't have made
much difference to me if it had. I would have signed anything to get the
Hell out of there and get a breath of fresh air. So I signed the damned
thing without even reading it. That was my second mistake.

And then he said would I please give him back the jewelry I had stolen?
I started to unpin the brooch, and he interrupted me. Not that cheap
stuff,
he sneered -- he meant the really valuable stuff that was listed in the
confession. As well as the other stuff that I had stolen from him over
the past few weeks -- also listed in the confession.

That's when I really started to panic. I wept and I begged and I sobbed
that I hadn't taken anything else, and that I knew what he was trying to
do, and he didn't answer, but just sat there and grinned at my tits the
whole goddamned time.

Finally, I ran down, and he started talking again. He didn't bother to
deny my accusations -- Hell, we both knew better than that. And he said
that the only way to prove that I was telling the truth was for him to
search me. He wrapped his mouth around the word like a kid with a stick
of candy. Now, if I wanted to go by the book, he went on, he could take
me
down to headquarters and have a police matron search me. But he assumed
that I still wanted to avoid involving the police.

So that left us with two alternatives. Either he could frisk me --and
very thoroughly, he assured me, or I could hand him my clothes, one
garment at a time, so he could check whether I had anything hidden in
them. And he meant all of
my clothes, he reminded me -- every last stitch.
                                                             s#
Well, he had me good. If I didn't want to call in the police -- and I
didn't -- I had two choices. Either I stripped right down to the buff for
him, or I let him have the feel of his life. I decided that being felt up
would be even worse than stripping, so I started unbuttoning my blouse.

He didn't even go through the motions of searching it. he just folded it
and laid it on the desk, and waited for my skirt.

And then he called for my bra. . .

Believe me, that's when a girl really feels lonely -- when she's locked
up with a dirty old man who's telling her to take off her bra, and she
doesn't have any say in the matter.

My fingers were shaking so I could hardly get the hooks undone, but I
finally managed to work them free. It was a moment of sheer despair when
the bra came away from my body and I felt the cold air on my tits. I held
the bra in front of me for one desperate moment, while I wished the earth
would open up and swallow me, and then I let it drop. Then I held my
hands
cupped over my tits as long as I dared, while I could feel his eyes
boring
through my fingers.

He didn't try to rush me. The bastard was enjoying my embarrassment even
more than the sight of my body.

Finally, I realized that my modesty was just turning him on, and I forced
my hands down to my sides, and let him look to his heart's content. And
did he ever look! I was hoping that he would have a heart attack or
something, but he didn't, of course.

For some reason, it was easier to take my panties off than my bra had
been. Maybe because the ice had already been broken, so to speak, maybe
because he was so obviously a tit man, or -- who knows why?

So there I stood, stark naked except for my sandals and my bracelet,
while he enjoyed what may have been the best free show that he had seen
in years. And then he started talking abut his "stolen jewelry" again,
and allowed as how I must have hidden it in my asshole or my twat.

Boy, did it ever get gross then! He made me spread my legs, and then he
grinned at me while I had to spread my ass cheeks for him, and then my
cunt lips. And then he had to feel for himself, of course. I was scared
to death that he was going to ram his finger into me and break my cherry,
but he just joked a little and made some vulgar comment like who was I
saving it for. And he had a good time feeling of everything else while
he was about it. He squeezed my tits again, too, but this time he really
put his heart into it -- maybe because they were bare -- and I damn near
fainted from the pain.

Like I said, he was a real tit man.

=======================================================
THE STARLET SLAVE 7
Joy Paine
Index words:   spanking s#


With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional
resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like
to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which
one -- after all, your tastes may be different.

7. Spanked

I had been right abut one thing -- being felt up was even worse than the
stripping had been. I just hadn't realized that the bastard was going
to manage to get both.

And then came the real eye-opener. Peck said, "OK, girls", and my three
friends -- the ones who had talked me into this scrape -- walked into the
room. Make that my three ex-friends. I realized then that the whole scam
had been a put-up job, right from the top -- the whole schtick about the
club had been a con just to trap me. And boy, had it ever worked!

Well, it turned out that the girls had not only been watching the whole
thing through a two-way mirror, but they had also been taking pictures of
my whole ordeal. Video tape, too.

And then they played the tape for my "entertainment" while I crouched in
the corner, trying to cover myself with my hands.. Without the sound, and
if you didn't know how Peck worked, it looked as if I was willingly
stripping for him, and letting him feel me up and finger-fuck me, just
for
kicks. For his kicks, sure, but it looked as if I also had been enjoying
it. My hesitation could have been coyness, and the blush in my cheeks --
sure, it could have been embarrassment, but it could also have been from
sexual excitement.

It was even more embarrassing, if that was possible, to watch the replay
than it had been when I was actually stripping for the old goat. And the
fact that I now knew that my "friends" were watching didn't make it any
easier, of course.

Like the true sadist that he was, Peck was paying more attention to my
reactions than he was to the show. He cheered as each new goody came into
view, making vulgar (but enthusiastic) comments about my anatomy, and
speculating out loud on what my state of mind must have been at each new
development.

"And now for sure we don't have to worry about you going to the police,"
he gloated. "Not only do we have the shoplifting charge to hold over you,
but these pictures show pretty well that you are trying to seduce me, and
the authorities would feel that any complaint you might make would
obviously be only an attempt at blackmail.

"Plus which, I don't thank that you'd be anxious to have these pictures
shown around town. Especially to your mother. In fact, I'm going to bet
that these pictures will be enough incentive to keep you working for me,
even though you might not be satisfied with the pay. Or the working
conditions, either," he added slyly.

"At least, pictures like these have been ample incentive for your three
friends here."

So now I knew. They were being blackmailed, too. I felt a little more
forgiving toward them, now that I knew that they hadn't screwed me just
for the Hell of it. Or for money.

"And now," Peck said to the girls, "I think our little Ellen needs a bit
of a spanking, to punish her for her misdeeds -- and to cure her of any
rebellious thoughts. OK, girls, lend a hand. You know the routine."

I fought like a wildcat, and I succeeded in making some ugly scratches
on Rosie's arm, but I was no match for the three of them. Bit by bit,
they
managed to buckle a pair of straps on my wrists -- broad leather straps,
lined with lamb's wool, so they wouldn't leave any marks, no matter how
much I struggled. And I did struggle, believe you me!
                                                                     s#
They stretched me across a sturdy wooden bench that was standing in the
middle of the room -- a bench that apparently had been designed for just
this purpose. Lying flat on my belly, I could just barely reach the floor
with my toes. They fastened my wrist straps to a pair of rings at the
side
of the bench, with my arms stretched out over my head. Another pair of
straps fastened my ankles to the legs of the bench. So there I was, legs
spread to show everything I had, and my bare ass waving in the air.

"Better put some antiseptic on those scratches, Rosie" Peck said. "And
the
rest of you fix the little minx so she won't scratch anyone else."

It was no trick at all for the girls to clip my fingernails right down to
the quick. Not too elegant a manicure, but pretty damned effective, as
far
as making my nails useless for defense.

Then the old bastard walked around in front of me, so I could see what he
was doing. And so he could watch the expression on my face as I realized
what he had planned for me.

Slowly, deliberately, he took off his belt. "Maybe this will teach you
the error of your ways," he hissed.

I lost track of how many times he brought that belt down across my naked
ass -- I was too busy begging him to stop. I knew that it was going to be
a long time before I wanted to sit down again.

==========================================================

THE STARLET SLAVE 8
Joy Paine
Index words:  spanking s#       rape  r#


With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional
resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like
to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which
one -- after all, your tastes may be different.


8. A Plucked Duck
                                                              s#

Finally, he stopped and came around to my face again. "How about it, My
Lovely?" he taunted. "Have you learned the value of good behavior yet?"

My Lovely! How corny can you get? You could practically hear the audience
booing and hissing while he twirled his mustache. But I wasn't about to
press the point just then. I nodded a yes to his question, not trusting
my voice after all that screaming.

"The perhaps you'll kiss this nice old belt that whipped you?"

Shit! That was asking too much, and I told him so. In rather indelicate
terms, I'm afraid. I was just starting to tell him where he could stuff
that nice old belt, when he nodded to the girls.

"It appears that our little pigeon hasn't completely learned the value of
obedience yet."  He sounded happy about it. "I guess that you'd better
turn her over, ladies."

It was no trick at all for the three of them to unfasten the straps
holding me to the bench, flip me over, and spread-eagle me again, this
time with my cunt where my ass had been. And that point wasn't lost on
me when I saw him start hauling the belt back over his shoulder for
another stroke, I began to beg, and to promise that I would do anything
--
anything he wanted. But he just chuckled and ticked my cunt with his
finger.

"Later on," he taunted. "Later on, you'll have lots of chances to do
what
I want. But for the moment . . ." He grunted with pleasure as he brought
that belt down with all his strength, squarely between my outstretched
thighs.

I never knew that anything could hurt as much as that whipping hurt my
cunt. Long before he had finished, I was ready to kiss that nice old
belt, and to do anything else he wanted. And I told him so, again and
again, between my sobs and screams.

"That's really sweet of you, My Lovely," he crooned. "And, as I told
you, I'll give you a lot of things to do for me. But first, there is one
more delight for you to savor."

Like I said, he was a tit man. He brought that belt down just one more
time, and this time the agony in my cunt was nothing compared with the
excruciating pain of that single blow. I think that I actually fainted
for a moment.
                                                               r#
He waited until my head cleared a bit -- after all, he didn't want me to
miss a moment of the "fun" --  and then he dropped that nice old belt to
the floor, and started to drop his pants after it.

I really got the picture then -- although, to be honest, I had suspected
from the first moment he had tied me down that he was going to rape me
before he was through.

Cherry and all.

And I didn't have any fight left in me. Even if I had not been
immobilized
and helpless, I wouldn't have been able to put up any effective
resistance,
after the brutalizing pain he had just put me through.

And he knew that, too. I was a plucked duck, and he knew it.

=======================================================

THE STARLET SLAVE 9
Joy Paine
Index words:  (none needed)


With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional
resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like
to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which
one -- after all, your tastes may be different.


 9. Defloration

The girls knew the routine -- they had been through it before, maybe many
times.

Without waiting for instructions, they unfastened my wrists, and moved
the straps to my upper arms -- near the elbows -- and then proceeded to
fasten them to the table, near my waist.  So I could move my forearms,
but
not enough to defend myself, or anything. And I couldn't sit up, of
course.
My legs were still spread way apart, with my ass practically hanging over
the edge of the table. And then Peck, who was completely naked by now,
told me why they'd changed the straps on my arms.

"I want you to rub your fingertips over my nipples while I fuck you," he
rasped. "And here's why you're going to do it for me."

His huge hands closed once more on my tits, which were still throbbing
from the blow with the belt. He didn't have to squeeze hard at all. I
agreed with him -- I wanted to co-operate.

Meanwhile, one of the girls was spreading a lubricating jelly on the lips
of my cunt, and working it inside, taking great pains not to break my
cherry. Woe unto the careless slave girl whose errant fingers deprive the
Great Man of his moment of glory!

Peck took a fresh grip on my tits, and stepped between my thighs.

He let go of my tits for a moment, so he could use his hands to spread
my cunt lips and start his prick in the door, and then he teased me for
a couple of beats, pushing gently on my cherry until he got the feel of
it.
After all, he probably didn't bust a virgin every day. And then he
grabbed
my tits again, and I knew that it was good-bye cherry time. Giving my
tits one last vicious squeeze, he rammed right in.

He was unnecessarily rough about it, of course. As I well knew by now, he
was enjoying my pain and humiliation more than the fuck itself. And the
fact that I was -- or rather, had been -- a virgin made it all the
sweeter.
He knew that he was destroying the dreams of my whole life.

After a few strokes, he stopped, leaving it buried to the hilt, while he
reminded me of what I should be doing with my fingertips. And why I
wanted
to do it for him. It didn't take many squeezes for me to get the message,
and I gave him what might have been the best screw of his life.

He thanked me when he had finished, with ironic politeness, and
"promised"
that I would be his best girl for the next few weeks. Thanks a bunch! I
thought.

"So", he went on, "you'll be all the more eager to help your little
friends recruit more cunt for the club, to take my mind off you. Or maybe
I should say to take my hands off you?" he laughed.

Yeah, I could understand why my "friends" had been willing to trap me.
Understanding doesn't always mean forgiving, though. I hated their guts,
and promised myself that I would never give up until I found some way to
get even with them.

Peck knew what I was thinking, of course. And he knew that it was in his
interest to keep us all hating one another, so we wouldn't gang up and
find some way to break his hold on us. Divide and rule, as they say.

And then he told Rosie to "do the honors".

===============================================================
THE STARLET SLAVE 10
Joy Paine
Index words:  the Persuader p#   enema e#


With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional
resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like
to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which
one -- after all, your tastes may be different.

10. The Persuader


I'll give Rosie one thing -- she wasn't getting any pleasure from my
troubles. But that didn't stop her from obeying old Peck. She went meekly
over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, and brought back what I
was going to come to know as the "Persuader". To come to know it all too
well.

It was an ugly thing -- it looked just like a man's prick, although it
was
a bit smaller than the tool that Peck had just stuck through my cherry.
And it didn't take a great stretch of imagination to figure what Rosie
was
going to do with it. And I couldn't do anything to stop her, strapped as
I was to the table. All I could do was squirm and moan as she stuck the
goddamned thing into me. All the way in, so that my cunt lips closed over
it, and it just disappeared. And then they untied me.

My first thought was to get that fucking dildo out of my cunt. Not that
it
hurt, but the idea of carrying anything around in there was nauseating.
So
I reached in to pull it out. Never mind that they were all watching, like
a flock of vultures. After all, they'd seen everything that I had.
Nothing
like a spot of rape to break down the walls of modesty.

So I reached in, and got hold of the sides of it, and gave a tug.
                                                            p#
And screamed, and almost flew through the ceiling with the pain.

The damned thing seemed to come alive, and start chewing on the walls of
my cunt, hurting as if they were on fire. Old Peck laughed uproariously.
It was great fun -- just like pulling the wings off flies.

"Just a mild electric shock, my dear", he teased. "Just enough to
discourage you from pulling it out. You see, it's very important for you
to keep it in place, because your behavior is going to be influenced very
strongly by that little gem. Here, let me show you."

He held up the control box for me to see. "Works by radio," he explained.
"Now watch what happens when I press this switch."

I watched, and -- ZAP!!

The shock was even worse this time. Peck gave one of those sadistic
chuckles of his. "As I said, a mild electric shock. We can increase the
intensity, if necessary -- bit by bit  -- until you think it's burning a
hole right through your little twat. It's set at about 30 percent now.
Would you like to see what it feels like when we step up the power a
little?"

I screamed and pleaded and promised again that I would do whatever he
wanted, only please don't turn the fucking thing on again.

"Fine, my Lovely," he said."If you can remember that promise, you can
save
yourself a great deal of pain. And we'll give you a chance to show us the
sincerity of your promise -- there are a lot of things we want you to do
this afternoon. And later on."

And then he handed the control box to Rosie, and told her to take me to
the bathroom and "get the dirty part over with".
                                                            e#
Well it turned out that the "dirty part" that they had planned for me was
an enema! Hell, this wouldn't be the first time that I had ever had an
enema, but I was deathly afraid that this one meant that Peck was going
to
fuck me in the ass next. And that was the one thing in life that I
wouldn't
be able to take. Worse than the loss of my cherry, in fact -- far worse.

I remember the first time that I learned that people did things like
that,
and I had nightmares ever since when I thought about it. And now it was
going to happen to me . . .

Well, Rosie didn't give me any time to think about it. The pain from that
damned Persuader was strong enough to overcome even the pathological
repugnance I felt at having things stuck up my ass. And anyway, Rosie
wasn't equipped to fuck me there, of course.

After she had finished, Rosie pointed out that I wouldn't have to worry
about shitting my pants for a couple of days, and sure enough, she
started
putting some of that lubricating jelly into my asshole. Well, this is it,
I figured.

But then she took another Persuader, very much like the one in my cunt,
only smaller, and started to stick it up my ass. "This'll let the old
goat
release your twat for active duty," she explained.

I felt pretty nauseated at having that goddmned thing poked into me
there,
and I knew damned well what it would feel like when Peck turned on the
current, but what the Hell -- it was a thousand times better than being
fucked there. And I figured they wouldn't be doing that as long as the
Persuader was in place.

I was glad that they had given me the enema, though. That fucking dildo
in my ass made me feel all the time as if I wanted to shit.

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