Lawyer Ravished and Enslaved

The Fallen - Part 3

I know it has been a while since the last installment of this story. I have had other problems. More directly, I liked my first two chapters but did not like where the story was going.

I intend to get this story done now in a reasonably prompt fashion. Each part I publish will be a "Part" that will consist of one or more Chapters. Sorry I did not get the organization down earlier. Sorry also that you will need to read or remember the first two parts of this to follow the rest of this well.

I appreciate the views of those who think I should have written this in the third person although that did not accord with my concept. I cannot switch gracefully mid-story but I will make some adjustments in view of the problems that were pointed out.

My biggest problem is that I have a hard time accepting hard-core non-consent as erotic even in fiction. Yes, I know it is just a fantasy but it is a fantasy I have a hard time accepting even when I have it.

The story explores what a dystopian society would look like in which women were valued entirely for the sexual pleasure of men and breeding. Part of my discomfort comes from my fear that modern society is moving in that direction. I may not be helping things by creating fantasies of such a world. I would fear to be alone with someone who liked this story too much for the wrong reasons.

As before, my stories are not made to be read with your hands in your pants. I can't write such stories. There is much here that relates to matters other than sex acts. If you don't want to read that, there are many good stories that focus more exclusively on sex in Literotica and elsewhere.

Thanks to those who gave any thoughtful comments, positive and negative. As always, thoughtful comments are welcome but major changes will not be made in response to comments because I have now pretty well thought out the whole story. The unavoidable adolescent comments (e.g. "barf" or "total garbage") will be totally ignored as always.

Apologies again to the ghost of Camus.

Chapter 11 - My Fate

Ah Monsieur, it is so wonderful to feel you in me again. The way you started slow and now ... . You say that it feels like a home-coming. Well I guess it will be in a few minutes. It feels so good, oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, please, you have my body and my soul, yes, yes, yes.

Oh lord, oh. Yes, Yes, yes. And the way you tongue my tit while your cock rubs me inside. Oh god, oh god. Yes, yes.

(Panting for breath) ahauh, ahauh, ahauh. When I, ahauh, feel you throb in me like that, and, ahuah, then, god, the warm blast in the center of my womb. You are the best, Monsieur.

Let us rest now a few minutes as I pant and feel the lovely gooeyness inside. All the contentment I feel can just settle into me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Yes, I can talk again now. We can lie here together and restore our strength before we begin again.

You want to take up where we left off last week on the story of my captivity and sex slavery. Yes, Monsieur, we can do that although it is not a very happy story for me. But if it will help you to do what you just did again, it would be in both our interests for me to tell everything.

Where were we, Monsieur? I think I told you how Sturmer, my former law school classmate, then called Alan Storm, began working with mobsters who were running our City of Orange. had told me that I would be humiliated, tortured by many men, given numerous piercings, made to look like a complete slut, and impregnated by Wayne Dickerson who hated my guts because I had represented his wife, Theresia, in a very nasty divorce case. I think I ended with me saying that Ms. Stein who also had a grudge against me, led me off from this very room No. 215 to see Dickerson to start the abuse.

Actually, as I now recall, Ms. Stein only took me as far as the elevator. There she said that she thought it would be more fun if I walked to my own doom and surrendered myself to Dickerson's tender mercies. She said I should take the elevator down to the basement, turn left, walk about 25 meters down the hall and go into the room with "Torture and Abuse No. 4" written on the door.

You may imagine Monsieur how I felt in that elevator. I was completely naked, naked even of hair below the neck as the Pleasure Palace had removed it all as part of my training at "Fuck University." I could not be more vulnerable but there was nothing to be done about it. My mind repelled at the situation but my obedience was automatic and reinforced by an ingrained fear of what would happen if I failed to do exactly as told to do.

When I saw the door labeled "Torture and Abuse No.4," I had to give the managers of the Pleasure Palace some credit for truth in advertising. When I opened the door, I could give the Pleasure Palace no credit for originality. The room seemed like a torture chamber from a grade B horror movie. It was unfinished with a large ancient wooden table that looked like a shop table from the last century, no windows, a dim incandescent electric bulb hanging from the center of the room, brick walls with various hooks and rings screwed into the mortar, and racks full of whips, electrical mechanisms and other devices. Wayne Dickerson was there, dressed only in a sort of black leather vest. He had a large erection and a nasty smile.

To my surprise, I also sensed another person to be in the room and saw a dark outline of someone in an almost black corner.

Dickerson looked at me in the most violent and lecherous manner imaginable before saying he had waited months to see me and let me feel what I meant to him. He said it was unfortunate some of his plans for me and the Pleasure Palace rules kept him from causing as much pain as he'd like me to feel.

Dickerson added something like, "I intend to do just as much as I can to make you feel pain like you've never felt it before and then fuck you over and up to my complete satisfaction. I have debated with myself how I would chain or rope you as I gave you what you deserve but decided it would be more fun to make you present yourself for every form of pain I intend to deliver without any support or restraint. It would be too nice to allow you to hang on chains or ropes and passively be beaten and electro-shocked like the wayward cow you are. No, you should be constantly forced to present yourself for pain and degradation. So, stand facing the wall, hold your arms up, and spread your legs about a foot so I can slam your hairless clam along with the rest of you."

I thought about what a crude hateful asshole Dickerson was, but realized that it just did not matter what I thought about anyone or anything anymore. I did exactly as I was told and immediately was jolted by some sort of shock on one of my buttocks. This shock was soon followed by numerous furiously administered swats with some sort of thin rubber like swatter. I cannot say it was boring for me but it seemed to go on forever and would have been boring to watch unless one enjoys seeing a man tire his arms with blow after blow, and a woman grimace and contort her body while struggling not to move. Soon the pain of holding my arms up was almost as bad as the pain all over my back and legs from the swatting and the involuntary twisting and flexing I did in reaction to the blows.

A few full-strength swats between the legs up against my naked vulva caused me almost to collapse into the wall. Then Dickerson told me to turn around and pull my arms tight behind my back to thrust out my breasts.

I hardly began to face him when Dickerson swatted me across the face. I had no opportunity to recover from that or decide how to hold up my head when he brought some sort of plastic fork up against my left breast. The shock was brief but incredible and followed with a similar shock across my right nipple. Convulsively, I moved my arms to protect my breasts but caught myself and pulled my arms back into place before he went crazy administering shocks randomly around my body.

Dickerson was right. It was much worse having to constantly present myself for his ministrations than it would have been to be confined by physical bonds.

After numerous shocks, I just lost control. I fell to my knees while still trying to hold my arms behind my back. I could not help but start to scream as Dickerson administered a shock to my nose and yelled at me to stand up because he wanted to start causing me some real pain. After he shocked each nipple again and held the prod across my labia, I could not hold my arms behind my back anymore and, without thinking, started begging for him to kill me. Dickerson only told me to shut up and held the prod to my pussy again with his left hand while using his right to swats my breasts.

I could not take anymore but I could not stop taking more. I was a primitive blob of consciousness consisting of nothing but pain. If I could have thought at all, I would have wished to die.

A female voice I thought I recognized interrupted saying, "Wayne, you've made your point. Why don't you just fuck her and give both of you a rest."

"Alice, it's true that I am tired but I've hardly started to give this cunt what she deserves."

Alice? I thought. Could that be Alice Wissen the lady who has made a career of having children, and opposing feminism and family planning? The bleach blonde lady with the hour glass figure, well-shaped legs and blue eyes who has managed to stay incredibly hot despite all her pregnancies and who lectures women on how they can stay attractive and ready for sex with their husbands no matter how many children they've had?

The female voice then said, "Perhaps you think she deserves to be tortured to death, Wayne, but a dead woman can't have children. Even the severe depression you seem intent on causing Ms. Lightkind may cause miscarriage or other bad effects on the children you claim to want. You've ruined her life, Wayne, and you know she's going to take a lot more pain and humiliation in the future. Quit being such a dick and use your dick of instead that whip."

"Just a bit more Alice, I need one more vision of this cunt suffering to remember the rest of my life. Stacy, sit on this work table facing me and pull your thighs as far apart as you can."

I knew this meant horrible pain to a part of my body most sensitive to tactile sensations but got on the table as Dickerson wished. He stared between my legs like he was seeing the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen before he brought the rubber swatter repeatedly directly across my inner lips as hard as he could. I could not help but scream and screamed again as he ran the electric fork directly across my genitals. The jam of his cock into me came as a relief even though my vagina had not been prepared properly for the assault.

Strangely, I remembered a stupid joke I'd heard as a child. A to B, "Why are you hitting your head against a wall." B to A, "Because if feels so good when it stops." Now, I felt good just because I was not feeling great pain.

Next, I started feeling good because Dickerson was driving his erect cock into me like a pile driver. My pussy hungered for this after so much pain. I was tired and half insane from the endorphins and other chemicals generated by the whips and prods. He grabbed my breasts, too roughly, but it didn't matter as I held myself up with my arms on the table behind me with him continuing to drive into me like a maniac. I came hard and almost fell back. He kept driving into me until he finally came and kept banging into me until I came again. He pulled out and just stared at my body as I laid back of the table with most of my legs hanging off the table and my arms spread out on either side of me.

Dickerson said, "Alice you are right, I should not whip a defeated dog even if it once bit me." He added that I looked just perfect there with my big boobs rising and falling with my breath, my arms spread out fit for crucifixion, and his semen dripping down from my pussy to my ass. He took a picture, spit on my stomach, stormed out of the room, satisfied and not really satisfied.

Broken, I started to sob. With no instructions, I just stayed as I was on the table and tried to recover some sort of calm. I thought of whether I should not start slamming my head against the wooden table or one of the brick walls.

Alice said something like, "Stacy, you've gotten what you deserved from your horrible choices but it's going to get better eventually or at least you'll get used to it."

I asked if the voice I heard was indeed Alice Wissen of book, television, and radio fame.

"Yes, Stacy, and I am here to help you fulfill your destiny whether you want to or not. Given your bad attitudes, you are only fit for sex and breeding. That's what you are going to do. It need not be all horrible. Fulfilling my purpose as a woman has been very good for me. True, I have received more in life than you will receive but I did not have to become a slave to do what I should do."

"Mrs. Wissen," I said, "am I to speak freely or will that result in more pain or solitary confinement?"

"You and the other women whose bodies are being used as they should be used can always be honest and open with me. You will learn more. Don't try to convince me, though, that I should help you go back to your useless career. You won't convince me and I could not change your position even if I wanted to.

"First thing you should accept is that you have a decade or so ahead of you as a breeding sex slave with no more rights than a sow. Get used to it.

"Second, once Dickerson and all the other cowards finish whacking a helpless slave around for another few months, your life does not have to be all bad. Even many of the guys who think you've wronged them will start to feel sorry for you. There will be sex and also other activities. You might even get to lead a halfway normal life about a third of every year. You'll get used to the pain of all the pregnancies. You know I hardly think of it at all anymore. It's like a few months of discomfort followed by something that hurts for a few hours. The birthing process gets quicker the more you do it and the recovery process gets quicker and the sex gets better the more you have sex and do your exercises. Practice makes perfect."

I thought to myself that Wissen knew what she was talking about. She can't be called a hypocrite in arguing educated women should have a lot of children. She seemed to always be pregnant whenever she appeared on some talk show to explain how woman should fulfill what they are designed to do and that feminism is a perversion and destructive of the human race. In her early 30s, she already had about eight children.

However, while Mrs. Wissen, she always used "Mrs.," pretended to be very conservative and very moral, it was pretty well known that only one or two, if any, of her children were by Tom Wissen. Mr. Wissen was seen as the biggest cuckold in town. It was also thought that she had gotten a lot of financial support from some very wealthy but eccentric millionaires, who had a strange political agenda.

I thanked Alice for saving me from Dickerson's wrath that day. She replied that I had no reason to thank her for anything. She then gave a long speech which she started by saying that she was the one who suggested to Dickerson that he have children with me to make up for the ones his ex-wife took with her. She went on to say that she did not get him to stop hurting me to help me and repeated that I'd only gotten what I deserved.

She added that smart woman like me should have known that she had a duty to create many intelligent children without having to be enslaved and forced to do it. She mentioned that that was where Spencer's Helpers came in. I'd had not heard of Spencer's Helpers, but assumed they had something to do with some guy named Spencer.

Wissen began one of the lectures I'd heard her give on the radio or TV several times before I quickly changed the channel. She explained that evolution created the large brains of humans - including women's brains - to increase the fitness of the species and that homo sapiens conquered the earth despite our weakness by using our brains. In the last hundred years, however, people have decided selfishly to put their own personal happiness above the welfare of their tribe to the detriment of all mankind. According to Mrs. Wissen, Herbert Spencer did not anticipate modern birth control, and survival of the fittest has to be helped by the very fittest men taking an active role in the process of who is born.

Wissen said that many educated women think having children is painful, inconvenient, inconsistent with modern fashion or some sort of environmental nonsense. They are having children at a rate well under 2 children per woman while the uneducated and religious are reproducing at a rate over 3. Quoting some French biologist named Monod, who she said won a Noble Prize, she said that statistics show an inverse relationship between intelligence quotient and the number of children per couple. This she claimed was causing a basic decay in the human race that had to be stopped.

I suggested that she might be moving into territory that some people would say was racist. Wissen replied that she ought to get the electrical prod and go over me much worse than Dickerson had for even hinting at such a thing. She reminded me that intelligent women of Asian and African heritage were kidnapped around the same time I was in a very non-discriminatory fashion. She added, "we intend to force them to have as many as children as you and the other women of European origin who have been taken to become breeding sluts."

Although she'd suggested it several times, it finally hit me that I might be having more children than the two for Dickerson that Sturmer had mentioned. I asked if that was true. Wissen gave another speech. I can almost hear her now.

"Stacy, the record now for children for a human female was set by a Russian peasant woman who had 69 children from 25 pregnancies. One of Queen Victoria's great grandmothers had 23 children. You are starting kind of late but, using modern science, I am sure we could force you to have over 20 children without even implanting multiple fertilized eggs in you. But I think the management of the Pleasure Palace is not going to force you to have as many pregnancies as I would for the benefit of the species. They want to make as much money as possible selling you for use as a sex partner. Also, by milking you like a cow for months after every birth for the amusement of certain perverts, they will cut down on the number of your pregnancies."

Monsieur, I was too numb from all the abuse, social deprivation and sexual stimulation to appreciate fully what was being said. Only after I had been sent back to my room by Wissen did it register just how fully they intended to exploit me as a slave. How many sex partners would I have? Just how many children would I have? Did Wissen really mean to say I would be "milked like a cow?"

The next day, after that night's customer left, Alice Wissen appeared with a woman and a large bar bouncer of a man. She introduced them as Niki and Tucker and said they would be in charge of the day to day management of my life as I spent the next months satisfying 150 or so Pleasure Palace customers, many of whom would be former husbands of my past clients who had some sort of serious grudge against me as their ex-wife's divorce lawyer. She said that Niki was a nurse who she had recruited and Tucker was a bodyguard. Together they would make sure that, "while getting fucked often" I would not be "fucked up" in a way with "permanent visible consequences on my body."

Tucker looked very familiar. In fact, I could have sworn that he was one of the guys who raped Cathy and me in my office the day I was seized. I remembered Sturmer calling him "Ed" and that he worked for Sturmer along with Jim, Rex and another guy who had pushed me into my office after I realized it was a trap.