The women were raped in inverse order of how they were ushered to the basement. Meaning that the very first female forced to make the degrading trek from the Controller’s van to the basement witnessed the remaining pair of brand new prisoners being stripped naked, caned about the breasts and feet and ultimately sexually assaulted. Before it was her turn.
The Controller’s thoroughness meant that this initial ordeal for the trio of women he’d selected stretched deep into the night of their first day of captivity. It was a chance to experience how the new guests sounded when they begged for mercy and how they presented their bodies when their shoulders quaked with sobs. Belowstairs.
What’s remarkable is that in this intense but relatively brief introductory phase the sadist of 2112 Division Street could determine which whore could be best used for anal sex. And whom might not be quite so fortunate. Regardless of the pecking order that the three women were assigned to it was their Controller’s finest opportunity to impress upon each that the average length of stay within these environs was six to nine months. Which was a lie.
The girls - whether they knew it or not - were to serve life sentences.
Thus the pleas for mercy would grow in poignancy and the bare shoulders would tremble in shame. There existed NO easy tours of duty inside TheP.o.R.T.
What with the rapes and the beatings and the unremitting mental abuse the women technically qualified as victims of torture during those first twenty-four hours Belowstairs. It would get worse.
On along about a week the women were branded in the order they were marched naked from the slave pens to the Punishment Room. It was a painful rite of passage for those females the Controller meant to sell into prostitution. The charcoal brazier and branding irons within were an especially effective means to diminish the self esteem (not to mention the hope) of any slut designated for the slave trade that financed the Controller’s hobby.
Usually the scarlet upper case ‘C’ seared onto the unfortunate girls’ flesh - resembling the logo of the Cincinnati Reds baseball team - was brutally applied to their buttocks. Resulting in excruciating pain. But this trio of whores included a brunette with a sort of Sydney Sweeney body type. So the Controller - using a marginally smaller set of scorching hot irons - placed his mark upon the inviting outer contours of this especially unlucky girl’s left breast.
He warned her beforehand that it was going to hurt.
A month later - just prior to the brunette bitch with the big tits and the redhead with the great legs being pawned off to a Mexico City slavery and prostitution syndicate - the Controller marched his trinity of playthings to the Punishment Room. In no particular order. But once there he placed a dog collar around the throat of Linda Warner…and (using a humiliating leash) insisted that the naked blonde with the amazing blue eyes join him atop one of the rape beds.
Linda was the female the Controller was going to keep for himself. As a whore.
Belowstairs.
Life sentence. Which actually meant until he got bored with Linda’s body and went about finding something new to brand. And enjoy. More begging to ignore. More bare shoulders to witness shaking with fear.
As the Controller raped Linda on this particular occasion he inquired if her ‘C’ was at last fully healed. And if it might finally be time again that Linda could (and should) offer up her anus for her Owner’s amusement. As the helpless blonde sobbed - and the vaginal rape ramped up exponentially - the Controller’s glance wandered over to the brunette and redhead shackled hand-and-foot inside the holding cell at the far corner of the dreaded chamber. Anita and Misha were nude. And they were obediently occupied with VERY deeply tongue kissing one another. Filthy whores.
Each jumped pathetically as their Controller shouted from his position atop Linda’s spent body that the pair should now concentrate on sucking nipples and licking breasts. If they knew what was good for them. And despite the crippling restraints they’d been left in before their tormentor was satisfied enough with their agony to the extent that it would accentuate his enjoyment of Linda’s pussy nearby.
Useless whores.
It was at that moment that Linda - her hips exhausted and her vagina half ruined - began pleading with the Controller to ‘please, please finish’ inside of her. Truth be told the crimson brand upon her ass cheek still DID hurt like hell despite being four weeks old. And the splitting pain situated all too near Lisa’s womb made the forty-one year old fear for her physical well being. ‘Yes’ she begged. She would be ‘honored to offer up her worthless ass’ to her Master. He could ‘do anything he wanted’ with her body. And so on and so forth.
Whilst Anita grew ashamed at the hardness of her nipples once Misha tasted the faint presence of salt and fear in the tears left upon her disfigured breasts.
As the Controller neared climax - in this, one of his last torture sessions involving all three of the sluts from Westmount - he allowed his considerable weight to rest almost completely unsupported atop the broken body of Linda Warner. Crushing her pelvis as the fuck strokes multiplied and mashing her breasts as the rape bed squealed in protest. Somehow from this position the sadist was able to both continue the brutal pace of his punishing rape of Linda’s doomed body AS WELL AS viciously slapping the blonde across her pretty face.
Even as the acid of his cum jettisoned inside of her.
He would be the last male to fuck Linda. The last good, strong Man to enjoy her nakedness.