Abducted Ch 10

Chapter 10 – The Grand Inquisitor Has His Way

Back at Hans' chambers, he opened the door to his room, and pushed Emma in the direction of the bathroom. "Quick!" he ordered. "Have a toilet, then strip off and come to the playroom, as quickly as you can!"

Puzzled, Emma complied. Two minutes later, naked, she entered the playroom, and in the very subdued light, saw Hans, in his shirt sleeves, pulling to the centre of the room what looked like a very narrow vaulting horse, about fifteen centimetres wide and one metre long, with a leather padded top, standing about seventy centimetres off the floor. "Lean over this," he commanded, "and grasp your ankles."

Wordlessly, Emma obeyed. Hans quickly took each of her wrists and attached it to the corresponding ankle, using the catches on her leather bands. Her firm buttocks seemed to offer themselves to him, and he could not resist running his hands across them. "Lovely little bum," he whispered, as if to himself.

Suddenly, a mobile phone rang. Hans removed it from his pocket, and spoke. Emma could hear only one side of the conversation.

"Hello. Hans speaking."

"Pedro! Hello! What can I do for you?"

"A nice idea, my friend, but she's too inexperienced."

"No, really! I doubt if she's even seen one before, and certainly never used one. It would be unfair to use one in public the first time."

"OK, Pedro. Thanks for asking. Hope you perform well to-morrow."

"Oh, yes. We'll be there. Goodbye my friend."

Hans switched off his mobile. "That was the Chief Executioner," he said, mysteriously.

Emma sensed Hans kneeling behind her, and then felt leather being wrapped around her left leg, just above the ankle. There was a click, and then she felt her legs being pushed apart. Immediately, leather was attached around her right leg as well. In the gloom, Emma could just make out that her legs were now separated by a metal bar, about sixty centimetres long. Hans turned a handle at the side of the vaulting horse, adjusting the height so that Emma's toes could just touch the ground.

"I don't suppose you've seen one of these before, Girl," he said. "It's called a 'spreader bar'. You'll find that I use them a lot, and you'll be amazed at the variety. They ensure that your interesting bits are nice and accessible when required."

"No, Master," she agreed, slightly bewildered, "but what's going on? What are you going to do with me?"

"We have a problem," he announced with concern. "The letter I was handed as we left the Inquest as to tell me that the Grand Inquisitor will be calling here at midnight, to assure himself that I have punished you appropriately. I need to convince him, so I'd better get started. He'll probably want to fuck you as well; they say he's particularly fond of petite blonde women!"

"Fuck me, Master? But he's so old!"

"Old he may be," laughed Hans, "but not too old to get an erection!"

"What are you going to do to me, Master?"

Hans picked up an item from the table next to him. Emma uncomfortably craned her neck to see it. "This is a paddle," he began, "and it works like this!"

His hand rose, and suddenly fell. Emma felt a stinging pain on her right buttock. "Ow!" she shouted, "that hurt!"

"Just a beginning, Girl," he announced. "That was just a warm-up, and doesn't count. We'll start with six on each buttock, twelve in all. You need to keep count. After each stroke, I want you to call out the number. This is very important. If you forget, or count wrong, I start again. Is that clear, Girl?"

"Yes, Mast… OW!!!" she yelled as the first blow fell. The stinging pain sank in, and finally she whimpered, "One!"

"Just in time! You need to be quicker with your counting, or I start again!"

"Yes, Mast… OW!!!" The second blow fell on her other buttock. "Two!"

"Better!"

A third blow fell with increased force. She began sobbing, bewildered at her vulnerability. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she remembered to continue counting. After what seemed an age, she heard herself murmur, "Twelve!" and burst into tears of relief.

"I didn't hear you count, Cunt!" he bellowed. "Shall I start again?"

"No, please, Master. Twelve! I can't take any more. I won't be able to sit for a week! Please, Master. It hurts so much."

"Of course it does," he laughed. He caressed her buttocks with his hand. "And looks so lovely too – all pink, and very pretty. Quite irresistible! But you haven't thanked me yet!"

"Thank you, Master?" she queried. "For what?"

"For beating you, of course. It is expected. Or do I need to punish you again, to teach you manners?"

"No, Master. Thank you, Master," she blurted out, hurriedly.

"Good Girl. But don't forget in future. I expect to be thanked whenever I punish you. You are grateful for the time and effort I put into the task of correcting you, and making you into a dutiful slave!"

"Yes, Master. I understand. Thank you, Master."

He again caressed her buttocks. "As I was saying - all pink, and very pretty. Quite irresistible!"

He dropped the paddle, and moved behind her, grasping each of her buttocks with one of his hands. She winced at the added pain. With his palms flat against her twin mounds, he rubbed in circles, gradually widening the crack and exposing her pussy. Almost idly, his fingers caressed her outer lips, and he felt her shift slightly, as if to improve his access. His index finger probed within, and he felt her dampness. She moaned softly, pressing back against his hand, welcoming the intrusion, seeking for something to divert her mind from the numbing pain in her buttocks.

He moved his finger in and out of her orifice, feeling her juices increase. "Oh, you slut, you randy slut!" he murmured. His lust got the better of him. Quickly, he undid his belt, dropped his trousers and underpants, and without foreplay sank his erect cock into her with one movement.

She felt him driving into her. Part of her confused mind accepted him gladly, pleased to be filled, happy to feel a new prick invading her empty cunt. This was the man who had rescued her, whose wisdom she had learnt so quickly to respect. She wanted him to fuck her, to make love to her – but not like this! With her wrists tied to her ankles, and her legs held apart by the spreader bar, she could barely react to his assault. She felt as if she was no more than an inflatable doll to him. She felt used and abused. Tears flowed again, and she sobbed quietly to herself in her misery.

He continued to move in and out of her cunt. Finally, becoming resigned to her position, she pressed back against him, wincing a little as his groin made contact with her pink glowing buttocks. She so wanted to bring her legs together a little, to increase the friction, but the metal spreader prevented movement. Her vagina walls contracted, trying to hold him in.

Hans reached under her body, roughly grabbing a breast in each hand, and squeezing. She whimpered a little. He began pumping his cock in and out of her, squeezing her tits in tempo. She felt that he cared nothing for her pleasure; his one concern was to satiate his lust. After a few more strokes, she felt him erupt inside her, yelling in triumph. He pressed further into her, as if to eject the last drop of semen. She pressed her bottom back against him, silently pleading for more, but knowing that he had none to give. His cock shrank inside her. Finally, he removed it, and shuffled round to stand by her head, looking faintly ridiculous with his trousers around his ankles, and his shirt resting on his semi-erect cock. He grabbed her hair, roughly pulled up her head, and spoke at last. "After sex, it is customary for you to clean your Master's cock! Open wide!"

She obeyed, and he sank his member between her glistening lips. She sucked, savouring the mixture of her own familiar juices with the new taste of Hans' spunk. Her tongue revolved around the helmet of his penis, and she moved her lips up and down his length, as best she could. She sucked hard, her cheeks imploded, to squeeze out the dregs from his cock. Finally, he withdrew from her mouth.

"Mmm," he muttered, "you suck well!"

"I would do better, Master, if only I had use of my hands!"

"Another time, Little One." He grinned, pulling up his trousers, and tucking in his shirt. "Soon, I will put you to the test, but for now, we expect a visitor."

He stroked her buttocks, admiring the reddened globes. "Yes," he pondered, "they're quite good, but I'm afraid they are not red enough to satisfy the Grand Inquisitor. Six more, I think – three on each side – and don't forget to count!"

He retrieved the paddle from the floor, where it had dropped, and swung his arm. The paddle thwacked against her defenceless body with more force than before. She howled. "One!" she yelled. "That really hurt, Master – even more than before!"

"And this is even harder!" he cried, mercilessly, swinging the paddle ruthlessly against her other buttock. "Two!" she cried, as tears flowed again. She wasn't used to this. In the past, if a man had taken her, she expected a little gratitude, at least a pretence of love, not a beating on her bare backside.

The third blow landed below her buttocks, at the top of her left thigh, which until now had remained unhurt and white. "Three!" she whispered, sobbing loudly. A similar blow struck her right thigh. "Four!" Tears poured down her cheeks, and she sobbed uncontrollably, inconsolably.

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the outer door. Hans glanced at his watch. "Damn! He's early!"

He dropped the paddle, and headed off to answer the door. Emma heard additional footsteps, and recognised the voice of the Grand Inquisitor. "Yes, Master Hans, very nicely presented. She is a real find; perhaps my great-nephew's taste is improving at last!"

Emma felt a wrinkled hand on her buttocks, and another moving up the inside of her thigh. "I see you have already performed!" the Grand Inquisitor remarked with a smile.

"Yes," agreed Hans. "I couldn't resist any longer!"

"Understandably! May I?"

"Of course, Excellency. Please carry on, but I'm afraid her anus is reserved for His Highness!"

"Pity," remarked the old man, probing her pussy with one finger while another played around her arsehole. "But her cunt will do nicely."

He lifted up his jalabiyyah, revealing that he was naked underneath. He positioned himself behind Emma, presented his cock to her opening, and thrust in to the hilt in one movement. Emma gasped, surprised at the rigidity and length of the cock on such an old man. He grabbed hold of her shoulders, and pumped in and out of her, gradually picking up speed. "Oh, yes, Master Hans," he remarked, somewhat breathlessly, "a lovely tight pussy. You will have much enjoyment from this one!"

Emma's misery returned. Once again, she was being used purely as a vagina, for the pleasure of any man. She would never get used to this, would never be able to accept it.

Remarkably quickly, he came. Emma breathed a prayer of thanks as she felt him empty his seed inside her; surely her ordeal was almost over. She felt him withdraw, and walk round to stand by her head. She stared at his withered, naked legs. Almost immediately, she felt a hand pulling her head upwards by the hair, so that she was staring at his groin.

"Lick me clean!" he demanded, thrusting his penis at her mouth with one hand, while the other held up his jalabiyyah. Trying to hide her distaste, she took his shrinking cock into her mouth and sucked it.

"Mmm, not a bad cock-sucker either," exclaimed the old man. "My great-nephew has surpassed himself this time! Bet he can hardly wait to get his cock up her arse!"

"There's nothing arranged yet," said Hans. "I will discuss it with His Highness when her training is more advanced. He may wish a special ceremony!"

"Yes, that could be fun. If so, make sure I get invited."

"Of course, Excellency."

The Grand Inquisitor removed his penis from Emma's mouth, and let his jalabiyyah fall. He studied her upturned backside, and stroked her buttocks. "I see, Master Hans," he began, "that you have started punishment. Her bum-cheeks are nice and red."

"Yes, Excellency," replied Hans, with foreboding.

"But this punishment is far below Level Five, barely Level Four, I would suggest."

"I have not yet finished, Excellency. She will receive more punishment after you leave."

"I am not convinced that you appreciate the severity of her misdemeanour," commented the old man. "I think I shall have to offer some punishment myself."

"No, Excellency, I thank you for the offer, but that will not be necessary. I understand the severity, and will punish her accordingly."

"I insist! I have the right!"

"Excellency, we should not dispute like this in front of the slave."

"You are right, Master Hans. Let us go into the other room."

Emma heard the two men walk away, and the door closed. Through the closed door, she heard raised voices, but only a few words were clear enough to be understood, largely those uttered in the strong tone of the Grand Inquisitor; Hans' softer voice was more difficult to hear.

"Authority… discipline… Level Five… absolutely necessary… stand in my way… threaten…"

It didn't make much sense to Emma, now squirming in her bonds, and feeling uncomfortable, with semen running down the inside of her thighs.

Finally, she clearly heard the Grand Inquisitor shout, "You know I'm right!" followed by a mumbled reply from her Master. The door opened and the two men returned, Hans looking tight-lipped.

"Right, let's get started," cried the old man, triumphantly. "Get her off that and tie her standing up, with her arms above her head."

Hans unshackled Emma, releasing her from the spreader, and helped her to stand. Cramp had set in down one leg, and she rubbed furiously to relieve the pain and restore circulation. Hans manoeuvred her to the centre of the room, immediately below a pulley set into the ceiling. She watched numbly as he fastened her hands together, in front, with the catches on her leather wristlets, and then tied them securely with a thick silk rope. Using a stool, he passed the other end of the rope through the pulley, and pulled until her arms were tightly stretched above her head.

"Good!" announced the Grand Inquisitor. "Now blindfold her, but don't gag her – I want to hear her scream!"

Emma panicked at the last remark, and tried to struggle free, whimpering like a helpless kitten. "Sshh!" whispered Hans. "Try to relax; it will hurt less and be over more quickly." He placed a blindfold over her eyes, and the world went black for her.

"Pull more on the rope," ordered the old man. "I want her on tip-toe."

Emma felt more pain as her arms were pulled higher, leaving her precariously balanced on the tips of her toes. She heard a cupboard door opening. "This is what I need," she heard. "Has she had the bull-whip before?"

"No, Excellency, not that! She won't be able to take that. She's only just starting to learn how to handle pain!"

Emma went pale. Bull-whip? If that was what she thought, it would really hurt. Sweat began to pour from her body.

"Nonsense! I've been training slaves since you were in nappies!" asserted the Grand Inquisitor. "A strong girl like her will take it without problems. Six will be enough."

He moved to take up a position about two metres from the suspended girl, and admired the black leather whip he had taken from the cupboard. He snapped it experimentally, and Emma jumped at the loud crack made by the three metre tail. She whimpered in fear.

Hans blanched, and steadied Emma. "Try to relax," he repeated in a deep whisper, "and for goodness sake don't forget to count!"

"Move away, Master Hans!" commanded the old man. Reluctantly, Hans obeyed.

The Grand Inquisitor flexed his arms, and changed his stance. He stood, feet apart, gazing in Emma's direction, idly waving the long whip in front of him. Suddenly, his arm swept backwards, and then rapidly forwards again. The long black leather snake ripped through the air, and cracked as it wrapped itself around Emma's soft white waist. Her agonised scream reverberated around the room, echoing off the walls. She felt as if she had been cut in two.

Gradually, her scream subsided to a low moan of agony. She was too shocked even to sob. Silently, Hans begged, 'Count, Girl! Count! For God's sake count!'

As if reading his mind, she managed a hoarse, "One!"

The Grand Inquisitor grinned as the fronds of the whip fell off her limp body. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, rhetorically. "And leaves a lovely red mark! You scream beautifully, Slave. Only five to go, but there's no hurry. I'll just decide where to put the next one!"

Max looked on helplessly. 'Sadist!' he thought to himself. 'He's putting her through additional mental torture, just for his own amusement.'

At last, Emma found tears, as the shock of the unfathomable pain subsided. She hung limply from her bounds, and sobbed quietly. 'I wish he'd get it over with,' she thought. 'The waiting is agony!'

She thought she heard him drawing back his arm to strike again, and tensed her body in expectation of another assault. Nothing came. It was a false alarm. She heard a little chuckle and relaxed a little.

Suddenly, it was there again. She wasn't sure whether the crack of the whip or the pain came first, but howled in anguish as the whip coiled around her again, this time, just below her breasts. That was even worse, she thought. Her howl continued, subsiding eventually. She remembered to gasp, "Two!"

"Excellent!" said the old man. "See, Master Hans, I haven't lost my touch. Another good strike."

He walked around Emma, examining the red wheals on her body. "Where next?" he muttered to himself.

Emma sobbed through her pain. "Please, Sir," she implored, "I'm sorry. No more. Please."

"Too late now, Slave," he responded. "Your punishment has been decided, and must be delivered."

He turned to Hans. "Pull on her rope again. I want her dangling off the floor for the next one."

Hans made as if to protest, but thought better of it. He pulled on her rope, and she cried out as her arms were stretched still further, feeling as if they were about to come out of their sockets. Her toes lost contact with the floor, and she hung helplessly.

The Grand Inquisitor stroked her body with the handle of his whip. She winced as the firm end passed across her wounds. "Where next?" he repeated. "Here?" he traced a finger across her stomach, just above her pubic mound. "Or perhaps here?" she felt a finger moving across her thigh, just below her buttocks. "Or maybe even here?"

"No!" she whimpered, as a finger moved over her breasts, across her nipples. "Please, Excellency!"

"We'll see," he laughed, "all in good time. It will be a surprise for you."

He resumed his original position, and again flexed his arms. Emma listened intently. She heard him move and tensed her muscles, bracing herself against the onslaught, but nothing came. Twice more, he made as if to strike, but then relented. Emma was in agony, waiting for the inevitable pain to come. For two minutes, seeming to Emma more like twenty minutes, he played with her, before finally, just as she was relaxing again, he swung with even more force and smiled as he caught her unawares. The whip cracked and wrapped around her buttocks with such force that she started swinging from her pulley like a pendulum. "Nooooo!" she screamed. "no more, pleeeeeeease! No more!"

At last, she remembered. "Three!" she murmured.

"Halfway!" he announced, triumphantly, and then suddenly, and unexpectedly, swung his arm again. The thong wrapped around Emma's thighs, about ten centimetres below the previous target. Again, her scream pierced the air, rising in pitch, and suddenly cut off, as if strangled. She now hung limply from her pulley, exhausted.