aisa stood for a moment watching the bus disappear into the swirling snow. She was grateful for so many kindnesses, so many guardian angels. The last one was the old lady on the bus who had wrapped Raisa in an old sweater and a wool scarf. She’d been scandalized by Raisa’s raggedy clothes and despite repeated assurances that she’d be fine, made the bus driver change his route to drop the girl at the end of her drive. Raisa had been kidnapped at the beginning of the Universal Holiday Season, the time of year where the sunsets seem to chase sunrises through the storms; but that had been weeks ago. Now even though the days would start to get longer, it was very, very cold. It didn’t matter; Raisa savoured the crisp cleanliness of the air in her lungs. She tucked her hands under her arms, took a quick look around, then headed up to the house. It had been such a long journey since the last time Raisa had been in her own home, since she had been flying in subspace, safe and secure in her Master’s control… ***** The basement of the house was chill and dry; the concrete floor stained, but swept impeccably clean. The single naked bulb threw harsh shadows across the unfinished walls. The metal frame stood in a puddle of light in the middle of the room; two parallel bars at about waist height supported on a wide base; all adjustable of course, but so well used that the favourite configuration seldom changed. Raisa was on her tip toes, her feet encased in black leather stilettos. Black leather encased her hands too, making them no more than paws. Her legs were spread as wide as they could go, lashed to the frame. The metal bars followed the line of her legs, long, strong, lean. Her Master’s hand gently caressed her flesh up the backs of her thighs, across her trembling cheeks. He pushed her over between the bars. More leather straps held her securely, her arms lashed to her sides between the bars. Not too tight, never that, but snug. Comforting. Immobilizing. Raisa was acutely aware of her ass. Her legs spread so far her hips ached, and her cunt shivered in the chill. Her head lolled unsupported, the chain from her wide leather collar made a musical sound as it dragged across the concrete beneath her face. Her Master grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. He kissed her. The fire in her belly reached for his mouth. She tried to reach forward to prolong the kiss, moaning when he pulled away. His mouth was replaced by a hard rubber cock attached to the frame. Raisa bit down hard on it. This would keep her head supported, but her mouth open. Always open. He slapped her breasts, twisted her nipples, encouraging the little nubs to stand out. Each strike sunk into her, not really painful, just an appetizer. He smeared oil on her breasts, before attaching vacuum tubes to each nipple. Three sucks pulled her nipples far into the tubes. Raisa cried out around her gag, sinking into the pain. Then he put larger tubes on top of the small ones, sucking almost her whole breast into the clear plastic. These were attached to the pumping machine. Raisa felt like a milk cow, the tugging on her breasts relentless, pulling her, pulling her essence out of her breasts. Each suck of the tube hurt more than the last, and each one released more endorphins into her body. Her sister had once told her that nursing a baby hurt in such a delicious way. Raisa could believe it. She closed her eyes and floated on the sensations. Accepting. Her Master continued his slow methodical work. Each strap was checked; some tightened, some shifted. His hands would drift carelessly across her flesh as he moulded her into his art. He hummed as he worked. Raisa started to drift. Her volition had been stripped away; her sense of self receding with each strap, each device, each strike. All cares, all responsibilities gone. All that was left was acceptance. She started to drool around the dildo between her teeth, a long silver strand reaching for the floor. He disappeared from view, touching her back to tell her where he was. No longer gentle, he prodded her, riming her dark passage with his finger, shoving into her, finger fucking her ass, sending shivers up into her. She relaxed, welcoming him in. Something cool and wet, must be lube, poured over her rectum. Raisa gasped as it trickled, slowly, tantalizingly, down to her cunt and then down the insides of her thighs. The small bead slipped easily into her ass, then the next larger one, then the next and the next. The whole string was about ten inches long; each bulb getting bigger, harder, deeper. Raisa felt it move around inside her. She wanted to squirm, tried to shift, but could only accept. One more layer of resistance stripped away. She relaxed some more, accepted yet one more bulb into her ass. Open to him even more. This left only one hole to be filled and her cunt ached in its emptiness. She heard the metal scrape across the floor before the apparatus was in position. She couldn’t see it, but she knew very well what it was; her birthday present from last year; the fucking machine. Her Master pulled back her labia, opening her hole, checking her readiness. She was as slippery as an eel and her Master hummed appreciatively. “Hmm, a good slut is a wet slut. Such a good slut, my girl.” Raisa glowed with pride. She so loved to please him. She seldom needed any extra lube in her cunt. He positioned the dildo just inside. He checked the settings then secured the machine to the frame with cotter pins. He was still humming quietly as he flipped the switch starting the pumping of the machine. Raisa’s spirit danced with the driving of her body. Her breasts, her cunt, moved in a thrumming rhythm. She closed her eyes and revelled in the sensations. She was open, accepting, free. It wouldn’t stop there though. Her Master knew her very well. More would be necessary to push her over the edge. He started on her calves. Short sharp strikes with the cane sent pain shooting her body in a syncopated counterpoint to the drumming of the machines. She moaned with it, fought it, cried with it, screamed it out. The pain had nowhere to go, every hole was filled. Tears ran down her face, mixing with the drool and snot into a humiliating puddle on the floor. But it was not her concern. Hers was only acceptance, release. Her passion rose quickly. Each strike of the cane on her ass fed her higher. The relentless pumping into her cunt, the sucking at her breasts, the fall of the cane, all pushed her further and further. When her

orgasm took her, the muscles in her legs spasmed, the leather straps groaned but held as she fought and screamed. Then something shifted. She was no longer strapped tight to the frame, her body punished and pummelled. She was flying, free in subspace. She had no idea what her Master saw when she went off like this, or even what he did, she just knew he was there, holding her, doing what ever he did to keep her flying. The pure sere sharpness of her subspace was magnificent. She flew on the bright clarity of it all. Safe. Happy. Glorious. There was an explosion of lights somewhere far away. People came crashing down the stairs, guns flashing around. Raisa was vaguely aware of images through the fog of her subspace; three maybe four people, one really short, the rest enormous. Army fatigues, bullet-proof vests, big guns, bright lights; lots of shouting. She struggled to get back to her body. “Oh my god! What is this sick shit?!” “You sadistic fucking bastard!” “What the hell..” Her Master’s voice was cut off with a terrifying thud. Raisa started screaming in horror. Blind hysteria tugging at her. “Get her out of that! Now!” “Poor baby. It’s ok, baby. He can’t hurt you anymore.” A tissue was wiped across her face. The machine was pulled out. Not gently. Her butt beads also pulled out and tossed aside. Someone was unbuckling the straps that held her. Where was her Master? What had they done to him? She couldn’t see from where she was. A short woman came into focus. She took Raisa’s gag out. Raisa screamed again. “Don’t worry honey. We’ll get you out of this hell hole. He’ll pay for what he did to you!” The last of the straps came undone and Raisa collapsed on the hard concrete floor, smashing her hip and shoulder, but there was still so much endorphins in her system, she hardly felt it. “Here, honey, let me get those things off your hands.” Her voice was soft, almost gentle. Raisa blinked and shook her head trying to clear the effects of subspace. She was trembling like a newborn calf. The woman took Raisa’s hands and started to unbuckle the restraint gloves. Raisa looked around and saw her beloved Master on the floor in a heap. The big commandoes were going through the toy chest, taking pictures and loudly commenting on everything they found. “Come on, honey, can you stand?” She helped Raisa to her feet. Raisa was not a short woman to start with and the stilettos took her to well over six feet. She had to get to her Master. She shook off the hand of the woman and stumbled towards the small dark heap on the floor. One of the big men caught her. “Here now! You be careful there.” Raisa’s body reacted quickly; a twist and a strike to the forearms forced him to release her. She turned back to her Master. Why wasn’t he moving? Had they killed him? She was grabbed again. She lashed out. This time an elbow to the side of the head, she twisted, following with a backhand strike to his nose. Blood splattered across her face. She was hit as well, but didn’t feel it. By now she was fighting all three of the commandoes. Her mind cleared and her fighting sense took over. She watched them all, noting who was the leader, who was following, who didn’t want to be there. Time slowed and she saw a lethal opening. She took it. A knife hand strike hard into the throat. The leader collapsed, gasping. Two left. The one on the right swung at her, trying to catch her again. She ducked back and with a swing of her arm caught his flailing punch and followed through twisting his arm backwards. A satisfyingly sickening crunch told her his arm had broken. He dropped screaming. One left. The uncertainty flickered across his face. He was young. He lifted his gun and Raisa took two quick steps forward, knocking the gun out of the way, her hand closed on his throat. A sharp sting on her neck caught her attention. She turned and saw the small one slowly lowering a tranquilizer gun. The world faded to black. Raisa would never forget waking up in the back of the van to an open and sympathetic smile. “It’s ok, honey. You’re safe now. Welcome to the Land of the Free. My name is Tina and I’m going to see you safe.” Raisa’s mouth had turned to ash, her lips were cracked. The fog of dehydration and drugs made speaking impossible. She tried to move. Her hands were chained to the seat of the van. “We know you didn’t mean it. Lots of women we rescue react like that. Don’t worry; I’m sure the judge will take your state of mind into account. Bobby’s arm will be fine, and Jim-boy came through surgery just a few minutes ago. Good thing his neck is so thick, huh? The Directorate’s work is dangerous. They knew that when they volunteered. But saving victims of violence is worth every sacrifice we make.” Raisa started to cry. She hadn’t even managed to kill any of the bastards. “Oh honey, don’t cry! You’re ok now. We’re taking you somewhere very far away. Everything is gonna be ok now. We got the fucker who did this to you real good.” Raisa coughed and looked at Tina. “What did you do to him? Is he dead?” The words caught in her throat and made her cough some more. “Here, have some water, honey. No, we didn’t kill him. We just gave him a bit of his own. Strapped him to the contraption he had you in and turned on the machines. We left him there. Just deserts if you ask me.” A deadly chill swept over Raisa as her resolve hardened. She would get home. continue to page 2 of 3