**file_report**
At thirty-six years of age Anita Benes was slightly older than most of the females the Controller offered room-and-board. The brunette was additionally a bit more ‘chesty’ than what Kenneth Myers, Esq. preferred. And Anita featured an out of the ordinary hint of subtle contour to her ass that her kidnapper decided (at the very last minute before acquiring her for sex slavery) was suitable for his purposes.
All these enticing physical details were on full display as the naked object waited strung up by her wrists inside the Controller’s main rape and punishment chamber.
This being Day6 of her imprisonment Anita could readily concede to two (2) definitive aspects of entertaining and amusing Mr. Myers. One…the rapes were extremely painful. Anita’s admirer seemingly possessed the penis, core strength and brutal nature that brought to bear the agonizing depth and rapidity of his fuck strokes. Both inside Anita’s ruined vagina as well as her anus.
But even more so as she whimpered plaintively at the mercy of her tormentor the brown-eyed cosmetician suffered under the daily penalty of being very, very cold. Every minute. Of every hour. Anita had learned that her nudity was mandatory. Except for the four-inch heels she was put in to ‘showcase her legs’ occasionally. Or the panties the Controller would allow her to wear at times. The only reason being that after a nice, long punishment session the sadist could remove the selfsame panties so that they could be shoved (and taped) inside what he called the ‘filthy mouth of the whore being reprimanded’.
It was under such circumstances and under such constraints that Anita waited with her arms pulled up painfully above her head. Trembling…shivering from the damp cold. Hoping that the rape wouldn’t hurt as much as last time. And praying that her Owner enjoyed himself thoroughly upon whatever bed, mattress, table or floor he chose to fuck her upon.
**file retrieval**
He was raping his victim in a manner that suited himself and terrified her. The Controller had Anita Benes in restraint face-up and crosswise atop the low bed. The brunette’s hands had been first tied tightly together…then drawn up over the sobbing female’s head and secured to the side rail on the opposite side of the mattress. At the side of the bed that the Controller’s cock was flailing away at Anita’s pussy the sadist had commanded his slave to spread her willowy legs wider than Anita thought it possible for her anatomy to accommodate. His rape thrusts were more than usually savage on this occasion. Despite knowing better Anita was pleading for mercy. It hurt so much.
And her nude body - so thoroughly abused - was deathly cold.
To heighten the control he exercised over Anita - and to double down on her humiliation - the Controller first decided NOT to force his victim to don the six-inch stilettos that so wonderfully hiked up her well beaten ass cheeks. Instead the Controller had positioned Anita’s rope restraints as she lay upon her back atop the squealing rape bed in such a way that he could ‘insist’ the brunette allow ONLY her toes to reach the carpet on this near side of the bed. And thus sensually - for HIS benefit - arch her feet and calves in a pose that befitted the dehumanizing use of her otherwise worthless body.
He knew how to hurt pretty women. With his erection still shoved obscenely deep inside Anita’s vagina the Controller could lean forward across the bed. And without missing a stroke balance his considerable weight (and strength) upon his left hand. Which allowed his right hand the freedom to wield the sturdy, broad bladed, balsa wood spatula that was perfect for slapping his victim’s nipples. At any time during the rape. As Anita lay writhing in agony beneath him. Begging for a mercy that would never come.
**inDex nOtes**
It was during these intervals of ‘sex torture’ that the Controller would scream at Anita to keep her eyes open. Her filthy mouth shut. Her sexy legs in full display. Her breasts in complete accordance with his wishes for a clear field of fire for his makeshift spatula whip.
And the sadist was fully aware of how cold Anita was. Despite the fear. Despite the exertion. Despite the perspiration that coated the brunette’s body which merely conspired to magnify the lack of warmth - thermal or human - inside TheP.o.R.T. The Controller had always sensed - FELT - a slave’s helplessness through the lingering touch of his fingertips upon her skin amidst the rape. His victims were invariably naked…and cold. Just like Anita. Just like each and every one of them deserved to be.
**transitory ACTION**
At thirty-seven years of age Anita Benes was considerably older than the majority of the females that the Controller sold to Dimitri. But this particular pimp appreciated the fullness of the brunette’s pale breasts (Anita was naked in the lineup) and the welcoming curves of her well beaten ass cheeks.
There were tears as the Controller informed Anita that it was for only two years. You see, he owed Dimitri a favor…and Dimitri owed it to his workers (unwashed men straight from the mines outside Omsk) that there be enough pussy to go around. Myers assured Anita that there wouldn’t be too, too many Kazakhs among her clientele and that Dimitri himself only whipped the nipples of females with less sexy legs. She’d be in good hands.
So as the collar, leash and prod were applied to Anita’s body for the voyage ahead the Controller reminded Dimitri that ‘Anita’ (at least her body) was expected back. In two years. Just before her fortieth birthday. He had a special surprise (said the Controller to the pimp) for Anita on that occasion. A very special game. Under bright lights. In the cold.
Belowstairs.
**enD rePorT**
CODA - Exactly thirty-nine minutes after he left Anita in Dimitri’s care the Controller boarded his own packet. Destination…the port of Boston. Just inside the door to his berth he found what he expected. Eighteen year old Ludmilla Vlotney naked, gagged and arrayed fully restrained dangling by her wrists from a fresh water pipe overhead. The Russian girl was trembling in fear. And the Controller thought the clamminess of her exposed skin irresistible. The whore had such yielding breasts and such lovely, firm calves.
The sadist asked the doomed female if she’d ever crossed the Atlantic being raped half to death within the bilge confines of a deliberately unregistered container ship. Ludmilla spoke not a word of English. The Controller smiled and told himself it was going to be a fine crossing. Then he located the bull whip he’d brought along from his home in Denver. It was time to welcome Ludmilla to the S.S. Bytor. And properly introduce her to the last man who’d ever see her naked.