The Triskele Button Ch 06

Gynestar hadn't established a connection to me through our dreams since the morning I'd sent her my message through her handsome emissary. I had decided that whatever had been troubling her must have passed, and was actually beginning to doubt that there'd actually been some sort of dream link between us at all, until one night I found myself in the apartment corridor again. The bedroom end was illuminated, so I walked in there to find her sitting on an ottoman near the glass wall, looking out on the city.

"Hello, Linzi." she said without turning around, obviously having seen my reflection in the glass.

"You're mistaken. This girl is Master Zhang's slave sixty-eight." I replied "There is no 'Linzi'."

'You are Linzi, the slave girl I created from the young man you were all those months ago. The slave girl I have bitterly regretted selling to Zhang ever since." she answered.

"And why would that be?" I inquired, a little coldly.

"You might recall me mentioning at the time that I worked my 'art' on your transformation," the sad eyed She-demon replied "but I did more than that, much more. I didn't understand how much more until after I watched your assessment, but by then it was too late, or so I told myself at the time."

"Too late for what?" I asked.

Gynestar began to cry. A bubble of pain began to expand in my breast, an urge to put my arms round her and comfort her that I struggled to control.

"I decided to infuse you with a little of my own nature, to make you a more sexual creature than you already were, a more valuable slave. But to do that, I needed to temporarily join our 'natures' together." she explained.

"You're saying that you joined our souls together?" I shouted.

"Not exactly." she answered. "Demons don't have souls, what with the whole 'demonic' aspect of our natures and all. But you do, and the 'transfer' wasn't just one way. That shouldn't have happened."

"So you're saying that I'm part of you now?" I asked. "That you messed up my transformation and made yourself part-human, or something?"

"No, I'm saying that our 'natures' are so complementary, they have remained fused." she was beginning to sound a little desperate, needing me to understand. "I'm saying that I love you, Linzi."

"I'm slave sixty-eight, NOT 'Linzi'!" I screeched, "and I DON'T love YOU."

I woke up, heart hammering, mind reeling from a dream memory of Gynestar bursting into tears, her moan of pain one of the most truly heart-rending sounds I have ever heard another creature make. I lay awake, struggling to process what she had told me, examining my true feelings for her, or if I even had any at all, since I had experienced very little emotional response to anything since the night she sold me to Master Zhang. I was still considering this lack of feelings in me when Handler switched on the lights in my room to begin my morning routine.

As with Trainer, the day began with exercise before breakfast, the exercise equally intense, the breakfast equally small. As I pushed my petite body through my fitness routine, I reflected on my current internal numbness. As a child, I'd often been told that I was 'too emotional' for a boy, even by my own mother. This wasn't because I cried easily, had tantrums or even because I was easily intimidated by bigger boys; none of those applied to me. It was because I was, apparently, 'overly sensitive'; the implication being that I expressed emotion too easily, too like a girl for my own good. As I grew up, I learned to mask my emotions in a similar way to how I disguised just how much I felt like I was the wrong gender a lot of the time. It was therefore, deeply puzzling to me that now that I was a slave girl, expected to have deep emotional as well as sexual feelings, I was instead almost completely emotionless, almost like a robot. My ruminations were abruptly terminated when Handler decided I'd spent enough time running to nowhere on a treadmill for the day and ordered me to the shower. Not that they'd helped in any case. I put the matter out of my mind and pulled on the short housecoat that had been hung on the peg with my number over it, naked beneath except for my tightly clinging harness, and got busy with the household duties I'd been assigned for the day.

My evening duties began as usual, with me sitting in my little booth, sipping my mineral water. Within a very short time, a Master whom I'd noticed watching me on several occasions before sat down across from me.

"Sixty-eight, yes? The girl who ACTUALLY sold herself into slavery?" he inquired.

I wasn't really sure what he was talking about, so I decided to just say as little as possible, hoping that he might explain later.

"Yes, Master." I replied.

"So, you're an ACTUAL slave?" he asked.

That didn't clarify things for me. So I again simply said "Yes, Master."

"OK then," he said "come with me, slave."

I followed him to the elevator. Once inside he had me strip and kneel in the uncuffed pose as we ascended to the uppermost floor but one. A leash was clipped to my collar and when the lift door opened, I was half led, half dragged, on all fours down the corridor to a room near the end. The Master knocked on the door, which was opened from the inside before I was led through, still on my hands and knees. I saw several pairs of legs pass by me as I was led to the centre of the room, where two Masters waited, holding what I recognised as a heavy metal stock between them, one designed for the neck and wrists. Within moments, I was kneeling on the floor, my neck and wrists trapped in the device, my arms bent at the elbows. I was forced to sit back on my heels under the weight of metal locked on me. This was obviously not acceptable, as I almost immediately received a stinging slap to my face from the strong open hand of yet another of the dozen Masters I had counted in the room. I gasped with the pain as anger flashed through me, then humiliation welled up in me as the realisation dawned that I could do nothing about the abuse that had just been meted out to me.

"Kneel up properly, you stupid slut! You are very much cuffed!" the Master who had just slapped me said.

I obeyed, struggling to hold my pose, body trembling a little with the effort. A riding crop then traced a deep line of fire across my buttocks. I cried out with the shock and the sudden pain.

"HOLD STILL, SLAVE!" he shouted

This continued for some time, my bottom soon criss-crossed with whip marks that burned and throbbed more painfully than I'd ever experienced before. The more strokes of the crop I received, the harder it was to ignore that pain and focus on holding my position. Eventually I received two hard slaps to my face, one on each side, that brought tears to my eyes. The Master who'd been using the crop then spoke to one of the others.

"This slave doesn't want to obey me." he said "she needs a harsher lesson."

"Agreed." the other said, almost as if reading from a script.

They took hold of either side of the stock and dragged me, still on my knees, across the rubber flooring to where two chains hung from the ceiling, about two feet apart. The chains were attached to two brackets on the ends of the stock before they were retracted up into the ceiling until I was forced up onto my toes.

"Please Masters," I squealed pathetically "the slave wishes to obey, but this device is too heavy for her!"

"Complaining now as well as being disobedient!" the first Master snapped.

The second Master was behind me. A thick rubber bit gag was forced between my teeth and strapped tightly in place. I saw the first Master open a small holdall and take out a flogging whip, an evil looking one with long thongs of thick leather. I shook my head wildly and screamed behind the gag as he moved behind me. My body bucked as he flicked my already burning, heavily striped bottom with just the tips of the heavy thongs. The other Masters formed a semicircle in front of me, watching intently.

"This is what a disobedient, whining slut like you needs, isn't it?" he asked. I shook my head wildly and screamed again. The thongs whistled as he swung the whip back and forth behind me a few times. Then the first stroke lashed me across my back; my body arched painfully as the skin of my back was laced with fire. I bit down on the gag as air snorted through my nose, then screamed again.

"Again!" the watching Masters shouted. One already had his cock out, stroking as he watched me being tortured.

There was no transmutation of this pain into arousal; it seared across my back and buttocks like an electric shock before settling on my skin in uneven lines of burning heat. My screams, my thrashing body, my grunts and snorts as the thongs bit into my flesh brought me no respite; the more I struggled, the more the watchers smiled and called for more, until my body hung limply, exhausted, further strokes just producing low groans of pain rather than the bucking and screaming that had been so entertaining to the small audience. The chains were released; I was carried between two of my tormentors and placed face up on a leather covered bench. The gag was removed. I lay on the bench only half conscious, until I was violently restored to awareness when the Triskele button suddenly felt as if it had been kicked by a mule, my back arching painfully hard as pain burned its way from my imprisoned nubbin deep inside me. I looked down my body; the Master who had whipped me now had a small box with a winder on it in his hands, from which two cables extended to somewhere between my thighs. He grinned at me evilly before winding the handle hard and fast again, delivering another electric shock to the platinum sphere that slammed into my body like a vicious kick to the most intimate part of me before the pain seared inside of me again.

"Thought that'd wake you up, you lazy little slut!" he said. "Did you think we were finished? It's going to be a very long night for you!"

"Please Master, don't treat me like this, I 'm begging you!" I pleaded. Another unbelievably intense shock through my nubflesh was his reponse to my plea.

"I'll treat you whatever way I want, sixty-eight. You're a slave, an animal that we can use in whatever way we please! Or did you think when you sold yourself into bondage that all your Masters would treat you with respect?" he taunted, before shocking me again. I felt my stomach begin to turn from the pain.

"Master, the girl will throw up if she is shocked again." I warned, hoping to make him desist from further use of his little torture machine.

"Good." he replied. "We want that stomach empty for what's coming next!"

I felt fear grip my heart as he wound the handle again. As I had warned, the shock and pain was too much for me this time. I turned my head to the side and vomited up what little was in my stomach. My cheeks were gripped in a strong hand and my mouth forced open. A sponge, soaked in mouthwash, was shoved between my open lips and my oral cavity roughly cleaned. Thus prepared, I was lifted by four pairs of hands, turned over and laid across the bench so that my sex and bottom were now exposed, the opposite edge pressed against the underside of my breasts. My ankles were now cuffed to a spreader bar. A Master reached beneath me and tweaked and pulled at my nipples before tightly clamping heavy metal weights to each of the hardened teats; as I opened my mouth to moan from the pain, a metal ring was forced behind my upper and lower teeth and the attached straps buckled tightly behind my head. I looked up to see the Master who had caused me so much pain opening the front of his pants, freeing a not particularly impressive cock, narrow headed, its short thin shaft tapering rather than thickening at the base. That explains a lot, I thought to myself, unable to speak aloud at this stage. He moved closer, gripping my ponytail at the base, positioning my head for his first thrust.

"You won't be enjoying any of this, slave!" he said. Too true, I thought.

I was then subjected to hours of what, even for a slave, could only be classed as rape and sexual abuse. They each used my pussy or bottom, whipping me hard on my buttocks and thighs with a crop to make my muscles clench around their cocks, spanking me hard if my tightness brought them on too soon for their liking. Cockheads drove deep into my wide stretched mouth and down my throat, none of them going deep enough to block my airway, for which I received sharp slaps to my face. The skinny cocked sadist, who was obviously the ringleader of this fairly pathetic bunch, was particularly outraged by his inability to cut off my air supply; even with my nostrils pinched painfully between his thumb and forefinger, I could still comfortably suck air in past his shaft through my mouth, but he revenged himself on my exposed back with his cruel whip, making me scream even with the metal ring holding my mouth open. I was made to jerk Masters off with my cuffed hands, again getting my face slapped if I failed to catch their spurting loads in my mouth. A long thick plug was inserted in my bottom, and my buttocks whipped until the contractions of my muscles expelled it; this was done to me several times, using plugs of varying thickness. Finally, when none of them could sustain an erection any longer, they laid me on my back on the floor and took turns passing water on my abused body, then turning me over to repeat this amusement on my whipped back and bottom, bringing gasps and moans from me as I lay helpless under the warm streams of urine. Finally, the gag was removed from my mouth and the skinny cocked sadist leaned down close to my ear.

"Thank your Masters for allowing you to please them, slut!" he commanded.

"The slave girl thanks her Masters for being allowed to please them." I replied, fighting to keep the humiliation, pain and weariness from the tone of my voice.

I was left alone in the room, face down on the floor in puddles of fluids and urine, for what seemed like hours until Handler finally noticed I was missing and came to find me.