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It was an evil looking thing. Phyllis stood with her fists pressed against her mouth. His eyes blazed with anger.
Trouble crawled hurriedly out of the way, going to Kitten as he cracked the whip-the sound loud as a gunshot in the small room.
'Not one night,' he snarled. 'You couldn't wait one fucking night!'
He swung the whip, and it lashed the hanging girl across the back. Rogue screamed her agony, a fiery red stripe across her shoulder blades.
'Fucking worthless whore!' he yelled, and the whip fell again and again. Phyllis realized this wasn't some toy-this was a brutal, sadistic instrument designed solely to injure.
'I cannot fucking believe
Rogue's screams had dissolved into sobs as the whip fell again and again. Bright red blood dripped down her body.
'I'm done with you,' he snarled as the whip ripped across her buttocks. 'You wanna be a whore? Fine! I'm shipping your slut ass to Bangcock!'
He rained lashes over her ass, the whip tearing the hapless girl's skin. Phyllis was crying and fighting the urge to be sick. Kitten and Trouble clung to each other, shivering as they watched helplessly.
Another blow landed across her back, and Rogue's battered body arched, her scream of agony echoing.
Kitten took a step towards them. 'Master, please,' she began.
He whirled, brandishing the whip, his expression insane.
'Silence!' he shouted. 'One more fucking word from any of you cunts and I double her punishment-and you get a taste too!'
Gasping, Kitten fled back to her place. Again and again the whip sang, ripping Rogue's skin. She hung limp in her bonds, and Phyllis hoped she was unconscious. Her back and butt looked like raw hamburger.
Finally, panting and sweating, he stopped. He turned and saw Barry, who had heard the commotion and now stood in the doorway.
'Throw this piece of shit in one of the black cells. If she's still alive tomorrow, we're sending her to Thailand.'
With a nod, his expression blank and stoic as ever, Barry got the girl down from the frame and carried her out of the room.
Alexander glared at the three remaining girls, his lip still twitching with anger.
'I've been too soft on you bitches. From now on, any infraction, any rule breaking, any fuck-ups will be PUNISHED!'
He locked his eyes on the cringing girls, as if daring any of them to say a word, still breathing heavily. Finally, he shook his head in disgust.
'Get your dumb asses to bed.'
That was the last any of them had seen Rogue. He made it clear the next day that they were not to ask, not to wonder, not even to speak her name. Phyllis wondered if she had survived the ordeal, and if she had, if she wished she hadn't.
True to his word, he had been harsher ever since-quicker to anger, faster to slap or paddle. Their workouts got harder, their sexual use rougher, and praise was rare to non-existent.
For Phyllis, he added a new wrinkle-she thought of them as 'those fucking headphones.' For an hour a day, she was strapped down in a pitch black, silent room, headphones over her ears, forced to listen to what he called 'training messages.'
The tapes were the soft sounds of women gasping and moaning in obvious ecstasy, and over the top of that a woman's voice, low, soothing and hypnotic, repeating over and over...
'I will be a good slave.'
'I live to please my Master.'
'My pleasure comes from Master's pleasure.'
'I'm lucky to have such a wonderful Master.'
'My Master makes me so hot.'
And on and on and on. She hated those sessions, hated every second. Her mind screamed a negation of every nauseating phrase as it was whispered. By the time each tape ended and she was released, it was a struggle to control her anger and not lash out at whoever came to get her.
She knew she needed that cover-lifeless, unhappy, emotionless-if she expected him to keep his guard down. But it was so hard-those goddamn tapes brought all her old rage and fury to life.
'Control,' she thought, repeating the word in her mind like a man