“It will start to stir,” answered Hassan confidently. “When I treat her for the night with ointment.”

I screamed as if stung. And this monster burst into loud laughter.

- Fears! - He said enough, - Lalno, to hell with her. There was no fun. Pull off.

The girl rolled to the side of the cart, and the chair returned to its normal position. Untie me, she handed the leash to Hassan, and she took up her duties. Hassan jerked my leash and we walked out of that terrible room.

“I didn’t show you where your second girlfriend is,” he suddenly said. “Sorry.” But you can not worry about her. Elsa wanted to define her here too, but I intervened on time. First, this, like her, Ma in the kitchen dish soap. And when your beloved Martha was taken away from this idiot, I ordered Ma to take care of her.

I looked at Hassan in surprise. When I went to the infirmary, no Ma was there. He laughed and said:

- I ordered recently. More precisely, two days ago. If you are obedient, I will allow you to see her. Agreed?

- Yeah, - I replied, realizing that you can not believe this shit on eto.

- Let's move on! - he said cheerfully and dragged me to the exit.

We went out into the street and headed towards the huge building, which was located at some distance from the main complex. This building was almost no different from other buildings, except that for its size and high deaf fence. Along the perimeter of this fence, watchtowers disguised as spreading trees rose, so that from above it was simply impossible to look at anything.

We walked up to a wide, heavy gate, in one shutter of which I could make out the narrow gate that we entered.

“Here is the main part of the slaves,” Hassan began to explain to me with ecstasy, “You could also get here after the Carkntin. Here the goods are prepared for sale. Slaves are trained, stamped, put up for auction. Now there are no buyers, therefore, the girls are kept in the cells. But I sometimes allow them to breathe fresh air. Not all, of course. Only those who are well behaved. See, see?

I looked away. In a small zagonchik, fenced with a fence of thick twigs under the close supervision of the guards were chained to the thick posts of the girl. They were chained for collars and hands, instituted behind the pillars and handcuffed. Heavy kagdals gleamed on their feet. Mouths were plugged spherical gags.

The girls quietly stood in their places, and between the pillars there were a lot of big guys walking around, holding long lashes in their hands. There were no clothes in captivity, and the guards used it. They approached one or another slave and frankly pawed them, rather grinning. And the poor nevolnitsy were silent, not even trying to turn away their heads.

Coming closer, I saw that on the left buttock, every girl had the very stigma that “Black” told me about. Most likely, it was Arabic script, but what it meant, I do not know.

Hassan noticed where I was looking and immediately explained:

- All slaves are marked with a stigma. It cannot be removed or removed. It is for life. We first did a tattoo, but then decided to resort to the old tried and tested method, which was used in ancient times. How to put a brand on horseback, you know?

“Yeah," I replied, and shuddered.

“That's right,” Hassan said, “Hot iron.” It is very painful, but helpful. After the slave was branded, her way back to her freedom was cut off forever. And the sooner she realizes this, the better for her. You, too, will soon put a stigma, but another and not on the buttock, but on the left breast. So I sword my personal slaves, and even then not all.

I looked at this monster with fright.As soon as he has the audacity to talk about it so simply, as if it were not living people, but cows or sheep. And this sadist calmly continued:

- It is a pity that now there is no one to be branded, otherwise I would show you. These girls tremble so funny when they stand in line that you can die with laughter. And how they howl when they put a stigma! Yes, it is a pity.

From these words, I shuddered. Hassan interpreted this in his own way.

“You, I see, froze, slave,” he said, “Then let's go back.” I promised you drink tea. Let's sit and talk. Maybe offer something interesting. I, you know, love non-standard solutions.

We headed for the exit. I walked with my head down. Hassan was also in no hurry. He understood perfectly well how depressed I was. Most likely, he is for this and arranged this hellish walk to break me, to subjugate, to intimidate. After all, now with just one mention of any episode he had seen, with me he could do whatever he wished.

Suddenly Hassan stopped abruptly and abruptly turned me by the shoulders to the side.

“By the way,” he said, “There's another girlfriend over there!” Come, let's see.

On a small platform, fenced with a low wooden fence, a structure was installed, resembling a huge letter “X”, on which a naked girl was crucified. Her arms and legs were attached with wide leather bracelets to the rays of this peculiar cross. The mouth, like all other slaves, was blocked by a spherical stopper.

The girl did not move. It seemed to me that she was already dead. But when we got closer, she opened her eyes and looked at us with a distant look.

- Learn? - Hassan asked, laughing.

Of course, I recognized her immediately. This was my little protector Amanda. Only now this silly girl looked completely different. On the thin body of the girl in several places were visible traces of the lash, small metal rings were inserted into the nipples of the small, almost imperceptible breasts, interconnected by a thin chain, to which a curb weight was suspended. Under her weight, her nipples were falling down, causing severe pain to poor Amanda. But this reptile did not stop with such torture. I saw another weight hanging from the ring, driven into the girl's clit. - How are we doing? - smiling, askid Hassan, coming up to his victim, - Are you silent?

Amanda made no sound, just turned away. Then this monster slightly shook at first the weights that hung on the nipples, and then the second, attached to the clitoris. Amanda was silent, but I groaned, as if I felt this pain myself. Hassan looked at me in surprise and, grinning discontentedly, dragged me out of this pen.

- What are you doing? He asked irritably.

- Mmm! - I could only answer.

- Okay! - Hassan growled, - I will take it off from there today and put it in a strict camera. Are you satisfied

Without waiting for my reaction, he pulled the leash, and we headed towards the bunker, where the private quarters of the Owner of this terrible complex and my new Master were located. Horrible excursion over.

Conversation over a cup of tea

In a small cozy room was warm and dry. We sat at a small round table against each other. Hassan kept his word - he took the plug out of my mouth and took off his helmet and robe, but he did not free his hands, but he started them behind the high back of the chair. Even on the street, he called to one of one of the guards and issued an order about Amanda. I saw the girl taken off the cross and taken to the bunker, where the strict cameras were located, and where the boss was a lover of oral sex.

We sat and were silent. Hassan sipped fragrant tea from a small, like a tuldpan flower, cups, and I had to drink with the help of a straw.

- Want some cake? He asked, looking at me.

“I want to,” I answered indifferently.

“What are you thinking, slave?” - asked Hassan, sitting down to me.

“Who cares,” I replied sadly, “My thoughts don't bother anyone here.”

- Tell me, - he insisted, - And we'll see. So what is my little slave thinking?

- About you, - I boldly looked into his eyes.

Hassan momentarily delayed ... Read more →